Page 84 of The Devils of Saint City

He loves me. This sick, twisted bastard loves me... and I love him.

But I also want to kill him at the moment.

Pulling back from the kiss breathless, horny and overheated, I smack the hell out of his shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap. “You dump me in some stranger’s house and then don’t talk to me for two months?”

Confusion settles between his eyebrows as he regards me, his lips finding mine once again like I didn’t just yell at him for his silence, but when I pull back this time, he lets me. “We were waiting for you,” he replies. “We were waiting for you to come home. It had to be your choice, Rhea. And you’ve chosen.”

Ash lifts me off my feet and carries me inside, my gaze locked on the outside world behind him as it hits me this might be the last time I ever see it.

No. Not this time. Things will be different, they have to be. “Not so fast. We need to talk before I decide anything.”

“Talk?” He sets me down, pulling me in by my hips as his face dips down for another kiss. It’s like he can’t stop himself. “Okay.”

He kisses me again before I can attempt a conversation, and this time it’s Manson’s voice that pulls him back to the present. “Rhea? What’s going on?”

When I meet his gaze I find it laced with pain, pain that I hope to take away soon. “First, I need you to go open the door and prop it open. I need to know that if we can’t come to an agreement, you’ll let me leave.”

Manson does what he’s told without argument, so I wrap my hand around the back of Asher’s neck to pull him into another kiss. God, it feels so good to kiss him after all this time that I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.

He deepens it with a growl, hands gripping just under my ass so he can wrap my legs around his torso, and I feel him losing himself more with each passing second.

I want to let him, but I wasn’t kidding. We have to talk.

Breaking the kiss one more time, I get back on my feet and take a step back to face them both, but Manson swoops in to pick up where Asher left off.

These goddamn boys.

My stomach is alive with cocaine-addled butterflies and my lips are sore by the time we’re all sitting at the dining room table. I’m exhausted from driving and just want to go to sleep, but I need to know that we’re all going to be on the same page.

“First of all,” I start, blushing under the intensity of their attention. “Fuck you very much for the last two months. I get why you did it, and maybe it was even necessary. But the next time either of you get the idea that I’d be better off away from here, just fucking say something. Okay?”

Manson throws a scowl Asher’s way and bumps him with his elbow. “Okay?”

To my complete surprise, Ash actually looks sheepish. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

“Spent all this time apart and she wanted to come home.” I’ve never seen Manson angrier with Asher, only confusing me more. “The whole fucking time.”

“Alright,” Ash growls. “I get it, I fucked up. I’ve already admitted I fucked that all up, I — I’m sorry.” He stares into Manson’s eyes until he nods, then rounds on me to take my hand, his tone softening. “I’m sorry, Rhea.”

What?

“You... you didn’t. He did,” I argue, nodding at Manson. “He made me go.”

“Bullshit,” Manson hisses. “Don’t pin that dumbass decision on me. I told him we needed more time, and he convinced me that the only way we’d ever know it was real was if you came back on your own.”

“And she’s here,” he argues, holding out his hand when Manson tries to argue how long we’ve all been apart. “Yeah, it took longer than we hoped but are you going to tell me you wouldn’t have waited forever?”

That gets Manson to pause.

Asher set me free.

Not the one with the soft spot, like I’d assumed. Asher. Possessive, controlling, vindictive Asher put me and what I want above himself.

Somehow, that makes it better and worse all at once.

I glance over to the propped-open door and remind myself that the past doesn’t matter. Everything that happens from here forward is a choice — my choice — and I don’t have to apologize for anything.

“We need to figure some things out before I officially agree to come back,” I remind them gently. “First, I spent all this time thinking you let me go because you didn’t want to love me. That you decided being in a happy relationship wasn’t working. I know now that’s not the reason you let me go, but is there any truth to it at all?”

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