Page 68 of Nemesis

But they’re all moving, the verdict heard even though she didn’t fucking say anything. She climbs on the bike. Malikai swings his leg over, sliding into the position in front of her.

Artemis doesn’t wrap her arms around him, just grips the two handles on either side of her ass. She stays leaned backenough that she doesn’t even touch him, although she sways when he kick-starts the engine.

I grimace.

The others are on their bikes, too. The roar of four motorcycles in front of me rings in my ears, and they all take off. I’m left on the sidewalk alone, with my heart oddly in my throat.

No one even looks back.

But especially not Artemis.

18ARTEMIS

Cold water hits my face.

I flinch and swing, although the culprit is too fast. By the time my eyes crack open, he’s taken several steps back.

The pitcher he used is tucked under his arm.

I growl through my teeth.

“Easy, wildcat,” he says, fighting a smug smile. “You were snoring.”

I glance around, slowly wiping water from my face. The front of my hair is soaked, as is my face and chest. I’m on the couch, which is… weird.

I don’t remember getting home.

“Who sleeps at five o’clock anyway?” he continues.

My first real sleep in what feels like a week—interrupted by this bag of dicks? I open and close my mouth, trying to come up with some witty comeback, but…

I’ve got nothing.

I push myself up off the couch, and he steps back farther. Expecting retaliation? If only I wasn’t so bone-tired. The good news is, the couch is wet—not my bed. I go straight to my room and kick the door shut behind me. I strip off my necklaces andwet shirt, unhook my bra. I’m halfway out of my pants when the door creaks open.

“Artemis—”

Silence.

I press my lips together, reversing my motion and yanking my pants back up. Covering my breasts with one arm, I whirl around to face him.

He’s standing in the doorway, his gaze locked on… my chest.

Naturally.

“Get out,” I seethe. “Is living here not enough? You need to invademyprivacy, too?”

I drop my arm.

“There. Take a picture, for all the fucks I give.”

His brow furrows. “Your nipples are pierced?”

Lord help me.

I cross to the dresser, yanking out one of my favorite t-shirts. I hurry to get it on and don’t breathe until the fabric hides my chest.

The memory of my right nipple being pierced comes back to me, the old pain hauntingly sharp. I pierced the other one two years later, reliving that day in a different way. I wanted to rewrite it, but it just added to my complex feelings about the subject. Simply removing the one didn’t feel like enough. I had to take ownership of it.

---