Page 33 of Dance With A Devil
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. I came to apologize.” His eyes, those dark, dangerous eyes, lock on mine. “That shit downstairs? That wasn’t me thinking. That was me losing it.”
I blink. “What?” Let him talk. Let him finish.
“You belong to no one, Athens. Not even me. That’s a hard thing to admit. But you’reours. Mine. His. All of us.” He smirks, tossing my own words back at me. “I shouldn't have acted like an…alpha-hole, was it?”
My face burns. “That’s… an unusual word to use when talking about yourself.” Nervous laughter. God, I’m so embarrassing.
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Karter chimes in, grinning like he’s enjoying the show.
“We’re all going out tonight,” Wyck says, gaze shifting to Karter’s silence. It’s not a request. It’s a decree.
I cross my arms. “I can’t. Not with all this shit happening. Not when Bash is probably out there sending people to find me.”
Wyck’s entire expression ices over. “I don’t give a fuck about that grease-slicked bastard. Last time we talked, he said you two weremarried. That he was about to come into some money to dig himself out of whatever mess he’s made.”
The air in my lungs turns to ash. “Married? No. We’re not married. What thehellis he talking about?”
“Don’t know yet. But my guys are digging. Niko and Felix are trailing my father. Dash has his phone tapped. There’s more coming, more lies, more secrets. But tonight?” He leans in, voice molten and dark. “Tonight, we breathe before we burn.”
I’m spiraling. “How can I justgo outwhen I don’t even know who I am anymore? Everything’s lies, and I’m lost in the middle of it.” I spin, throwing myself onto Karter’s bed like the world’s most dramatic martyr. “I don’t want to party. I want to cry until my soul’s as empty as my name.”
“Too fucking bad, Brat.” Karter’s voice rumbles behind me like thunder. “Wyck’s right. Weallneed this.”
I pout. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
A pause.
Then Wyck’s hand wraps around mine. “Come with me.”
Oh no. I glance at Karter as Wyck drags me down the hall. Help me. I mouth.
Karter just shakes his head. Nope. You’re fucked.
Wyck leads me into his room, past the soft lighting, past the quiet menace that always lingers there, and stops in front of his closet. “There.” He nods to the left side.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“See for yourself.”
I walk forward, fingertips grazing fabrics that could’ve been stitched by sin itself. Dresses made to cling and destroy. Shoes lined up like weapons of seduction. Bags that scream power and poison.
His hand finds my hip. “Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” I murmur.
“Not everything,” he breathes, lips at the shell of my ear, voice dark enough to summon shadows.
He’s so close now, I feel the heat rolling off him like a fire barely leashed.
And I know.
I’m not leaving this room untouched. Not by Wyck. Not by this night.
Not by whatever darkness we’ve all been drowning in together. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Heat coils up my spine, suffocating the small space of his closet like smoke curling from the mouth of hell. It’s too hot. Too close. Too much.
But I don’t move.
Ineedthe burn. Iwantto see what catches fire first, me or the room.
