Page 113 of Property of Necro
Rot moves to his feet.
Wanting to even them out because they are so biteable, I pay the same respect to his other cheek. Warm copper coats my tongue, and I swallow it down, getting high on taking his power away. When I sit back, I wipe the dribbles from my mouth and do what needs done—stab him in the ass with the needle and press the plunger.
“Whore! Fucking whore. I’ll kill you!” Coffin rages and Rot chuckles, filming the entire thingon his cell phone.
The medicine doesn’t take long to kick in. Rot offers his hand and pulls me up, and I quickly discard the needle in the trash.
“Now what?” I ask and lick my lips as I stand beside Rot and Joe, staring down at a comatose, crazy man. He looks more peaceful when he’s asleep, and the world’s so much nicer when he isn’t busy threatening me or spewing insults.
Rot curls his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. “We wait,” he whispers, dropping a kiss to my temple.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
She’s home for good.
Our Sola.
Our love.
Mama is currently winning her over with an ice cream bar covering the kitchen island. He scoops vanilla from a tub while Sola adds whatever she likes on top. She’s smiling. He’s smiling. My heart has never felt happier or more relieved. Thankfully, she’s not angry with me. The rest will fall into place.
Around a mouthful of ice cream, Sola mumbles, “You’re the best,” to Mama, who damn near melts into a puddle of goo. He’s an emotional guy, and they adore each other.
Giving them space to catch up, I kiss Sola on the cheek. She flashes me a sweet smile and devours her dessert as I slip from the room to check on Coffin. Joe and I carried his giant ass from the barn back to his bedroom, where he’s sleeping the drugs off. It’s been more than twelve hours. I’ve been waiting for him to wake up, but nothing yet. Idon’t think it’s the drugs. It’s his body. He’s been running on fumes for weeks. Now that he’s forced to recover, his body is taking it, whether his mind likes it or not, which is a good thing.
When I enter his room through our shared bathroom, I find a groggy dickhead scowling at me. He scratches his balls and flips me the bird. “I fuckin’ hate you.”
“What do you remember?” I blow him a kiss and lean against his wall, crossing my arms over my chest.
Coffin scrubs both hands up and down his face. “I feel like death.”
“Good.”
“Fuck. Off.”
“You’re in a lot of trouble.”
“Why?” Rolling off the side of the bed, Coffin wobbles as he stands and shuffles to the bathroom, cursing the entire way before he takes a leak. “Fuck. Why does my ass hurt?” There’s a pause followed by a groan. “Did someone bite my ass? Did you bite my ass?”
I chuckle. “No. That would be the woman you tried to bury alive.”
The toilet flushes, and the faucet turns on. “What are you talking about?”
“The redhead you’re into. You put her in a coffin and stuck her in a grave.”
“No. I didn’t. I’d never do that to her,” he growls, offended by me even saying such a thing.
“Well, you did.”
Once Coffin returns to the bedroom, he collapses onto the bed, and I recount to him what the past few days have been like, which he seems to have no memory of. The moreI explain, the angrier he gets. When I reach the Sola parts, he bolts from the mattress to get dressed. Within minutes, he’s out of his bedroom, searching for the redhead. He finds her where I left her, in the kitchen, with Mama.
Sola nearly falls off her stool in shock when Coffin drops to his knees beside her and pours the longest, most heartfelt apology I could imagine coming out of anyone, let alone him.
“That will never happen again,” he vows.
Sola sets her spoon into her bowl and pushes it to the center of the island. “I could have died.”
