Page 21 of Hate Mates

I push past her, the floor tilting with every step. “That’s not what you said a few days ago.”

“That’s because you were whiny drunk. Nobody likes a party plooper.” She squints her eyes. “A party plopper.” Grunting, she throws her hands in the air. “You know what I mean.”

“Are you sure your father won’t be mad? Remember that time in college when we came home shitfaced at three a.m., and he flipped out?”

It’s seared into my memory. Lennox Carver stood at the bottom of the staircase, gripping a glass of bourbon, his salt-and-pepper stubbled jaw locked so tight, I was afraid it was going to snap. Maeve kept trying to explain her way out of it, but I’ll never forget the way his icy eyes locked on me. It was like he wanted to grab me by the throat and feel my life fade away.

I suppose that was the encounter that jump-started this secret need for danger and domination. At that moment, a side of me was born I refused to acknowledge until Lucifer forced it out of me.

“He wasn’t mad. That’s just his face,” she says, flinging her Jimmy Choo heels across the foyer.

“If I turn around, and he’s behind me, I’m going to pee my pants.”

Maeve stumbles into the kitchen with a giggle. “He left for Chicago yesterday and won’t be back until Friday.” She reappears, holding a bottle of whiskey above her head like a prize. “Which gives us plenty of time to finish this.”

I shrug. “Okay, but now I have to pee for real.”

She plops onto the couch and waves me off. “Go. I’ll start without you.”

I’m in the bathroom longer than expected. Once I sit down, the room becomes one of those old, rusty spinning wheels ofdeath I used to play on as a kid. By the time it finally stops, and I’ve splashed more water on the floor than my face, I don’t know how much time has passed.

When I walk back into the living room, I realize it’s more than I thought.

Maeve is passed out cold on the couch, hugging the bottle to her chest like a stuffed animal. I don’t bother waking her. Once she conks out, that’s it. A wrecking ball could take out half the house, and she’d never know. So, I drape a blanket over her and make my way up the stairs.

Every step I take sends a cold shiver up my spine.

Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on why.

Once in my room, I tell myself to crawl into bed and go to sleep. After all, I promised Maeve, I’d forget about ClickBait. But the longer I think about Lucifer and his filthy mouth, the thinner that promise gets, leaving space for a darker one to grow.

“You made a promise to him first,” a voice in my head whispers.“No one will know.”

I’m dragging my laptop off my nightstand before I can think about what I’m doing.

Butterflies invade my stomach as I reach for the keyboard, then immediately freeze.

The ClickBait site is up already, and there’s a message on the screen.

Out a little late tonight, aren’t you?

The butterflies turn into hornets as I look around the empty room, paranoia clawing at my throat. I don’t remember pulling the website up before we left for the bar, and I sure as hell don’t recall clicking on Lucifer’s avatar. I’m off the bed in a single leap, searching through the closet, checking the lock on the window, even looking under the bed.

Everything’s secure.

That “off” feeling from before settles in my bones. I know I should ignore him, but something won’t let me.

How did you know I was out?

His response is quick and curt.

I’m the prince of darkness, love. I know everything.

A rush of excitement skates down my spine.

What do you want?

An explanation. I don’t like being ignored.

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