Page 73 of In Death's Hands
When he looks back at me, I’m afraid I understand. “I know I messed up, Liv. But it doesn’t change anything. We can still work together. I can still help you. Ineedto help you. Please let me.” He goes to grab my hand, but I evade him.
“So you’re sorry—”
“Yes!”
“—that you kissed me.” It’s not a question. It can’t be a question when I already know the answer. An answer that sits on my chest, refusing to let me breathe fully.
I must look as I feel, for when he sees my expression, doubt crosses his features. The furrowed eyebrows, the slightly parted lips, all call to me to smooth those creased lines down and bring a smile to his face. He has such lovely smiles, so rarely offered to the world.
“You—” He shakes his head as if to clear it. For a second, I swear his eyes dip to my mouth, but he quickly turns away and swears viciously. I don’t think it’ll nevernotsurprise me to hear those words coming out of his soft mouth. As if he’s too good to have such vile things rolling off his tongue. A tongue I am begging my mind to burn from my memories. “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. When he faces me again, his face is like marble. Hard and cold. Millions of kilometres away from theface that uttered such beautiful moans mere moments ago. “It won’t happen again.”
I let those words crash in my heart, smashing and burning. I don’t let anything show. At least, I hope I don’t. “Fine. I need to rest for the meeting tomorrow.”
“You’re not going.”
I snort. “Try and stop me.”
I turn on my heels and stiffly walk back the way I came. He calls my name but all I think about is the rum Atys mentioned. Not the best coping mechanism, I’m sure, but hey, when in Hawaii, right?
A ray of sunshine rudely interrupts my sleep. My head hurts. I’m in my dream vacation place and all I care about is shutting the blinds to go back to sleep.
Last night was a mistake. The whole night.
Kissing Nathan and letting him touch me, for one. Which certainly didn’t feel like a mistake when it was happening, but the truth smacked me in the face too hard for me to deny it. Drinking with Atys and Turan till dawn broke was another one. I don’t know which is the biggest, to be honest, as the first still has my heart in a bind while the second is breaking my skull like one of those frustrated people with a bat in a rage room. As for the rest of it, the fight for my life and what happened next, I’m just blocking it out, honestly.
Groaning, I get to my feet and head to the en-suite bathroom first, barely pausing at Turan’s body sprawled out on the couch near the window. I don’t know what they put in their rum here, but it has that magic island taste that just makesyou drink and drink and drink until you’re stumbling down the hallway, trying to get to your bed.
I distinctly remember Atys ditching us for a hunky dude, but I have no memory of how we got in here. I wince as I recall us pounding on the door to the room Atys had disappeared into, laughing and making crude noises and comments. After that it’s all blank, but I guess we figured out a way back to my room and Turan was too lazy to get to hers. Fair enough.
After attending to my needs and cringing at my reflection, I finally make it to the window and close the drapes before crawling back under the covers. There I’ll stay for the foreseeable future.
Or I should say, there I wish I could stay. But the she-devil that crashed here seems to have other ideas.
“Liv,” she yells.
Okay, maybe she doesn’t yell so much as talk at a normal level. I grab the second pillow and drop it on my head, hoping she’ll get the message and leave me the hell alone. No such luck. In seconds, she yanks off both pillows and the blanket and throws everything on the floor.
“Get your ass outta bed, we’ve got shit to do.”
“Idon’tgotshittodo,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut and praying to I don’t know who for just a day where I can wallow in my misery. I’ve never been the praying kind. Never really believed in a big bearded guy looking after all of us. But with the company I now keep, I guess I should take time to wonder about a few things. Like Turan, for example. Did Nathan tell me what she was? I ignore the pang I feel in my chest as I think his name and focus on her, the mighty being currently pulling on my legs as I grab the sides of the bed, refusing to be moved. But whenher own words come back to me, I sit up with a jolt. “You’re the goddess of love?”
She yelps as she loses her balance and falls on the ground. And I’m almost too distracted by her dishevelled state to notice her wince. She swallows hard, short of breath, and pushes a strand of golden hair from her sweaty brow. I almost snort. My question and the state she’s in from trying—and failing—to literallydragme out of bed just clash for some reason.
But I keep looking at her, wanting an answer to my question.
She crosses her legs and stays sitting on the hardwood floor, looking for all the world like she belongs there. She’s still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and despite the slight disarray of her hair from her recent tumble, she appears fresh and lovely. Not at all like she drowned in rum last night. Unfair. Although she does look uncomfortable, playing with her nails and even tearing the skin around them a little.
“I am,” she says softly, as if hoping I won’t hear her. “Sort of.”
“Sort of? What does that mean?”
“It means I won’t find yourOne True Love.” She sneers and gets up, brushing imaginary dust from her flowing dress.
“Was I supposed to ask you to?”
She frowns at my question. “Everyone does.”
“Who’s everyone? I thought you didn’t advertise who you guys are.”
