Page 83 of Ruling Scar
“Leonora.” His voice is dangerously low. “Being mad at one another isn’t an excuse to stop kissing.”
“It’s the definition of?—”
His lips cut me off before I finish. He cups my cheek pulling me closer, biting my lower lip.
I feel my brow creasing, my irritation spiking.
He bites my lip again, but I don’t give in.
Pulling back, a shadow passes his face but too damn bad.
“I see you washed the blood off your face,” I say.
The shadow grows but then he grins. His chair is so close to mine that it’s easy for him to wrap his arm around the back of it. His fingers playfully tap my shoulder.
“I am sorry, Leonora.” The words are so soft I almost miss them.
“You didn’t reply to any of my texts.” I mentioned my worry several times in those messages.
“Yes,” he replies in that same soft tone. “How do you want me to make it up to you?”
There’s no teasing in his voice. He wants a genuine answer.
“By fucking texting me in the future or I’ll call your dad and have him find your sorry ass.”
There’s a spark of amusement, but he nods. “Did you talk to my dad?”
It was awkward as hell opening the door to find Lev there. But I had the rare fortune to see his startled face.
There’s a good chance he tells my father and then it gets back to my mother. Being pissed at Elijah for most of the day gave me an easy way to gloss over that fact.
“Did you?” I reply to his question. Despite our brief interaction, I could tell something heavy hung around Lev’s shoulders.
He nods and my shoulders sag.
“Is everything okay?”
His thumb traces along my neck and I hate how I soften into the touch. “Yelena shit. It’s fine.”
Yelena shit is never fine, but I don’t push it.
“Leonora.” He drags my attention to him. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses the back of my hand.
There’s lots I could say but the only thing that comes out is, “Just text next time.”
After a few more minutes, I get up wanting a chance to catch my breath. Ben sees me, silently asking if I’m okay. I nod and I’m thankful when he goes to sit down near Elijah, helping to distract him.
“What’s going on?” I ask Ren and Isolde. They’re holed up in the kitchen. Abe’s dad isn’t even here, so it’s strangely quiet.
“Hmmm?” Ren asks, unaware of my entrance. She’s wearing a stellar suit like always, but there’s a beer bottle in her hand.
“Ren wants to go to a sex club,” Isolde announces.
“Right now?” How much beer has she had?
“No, not right now,” Ren huffs.
