Page 72 of Twisted (Never After)
I scream and spin around, my hand flying to my chest. Julian is standing almost directly behind me.How the hell did he come home without me hearing?
“Don’tdothat,” I complain, smacking him in the chest.
He smirks at me and walks over to the enclosure, peering into it like he’s considering opening the thing. His hand reaches out and I jump forward, gripping his forearm.
“What are you doing?” I panic, my eyes growing wide. “Don’t get it out!”
He chuckles but listens, drawing his arm back and twisting to face me instead. “She won’t hurt you unless I tell her to.”
“Oh, well,that’scomforting.” I side-eye the enclosure. I can’t even see her; maybe she’s a small garden snake or something.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A twenty- three- foot python.”
I sigh. “Of course.”
He smiles. “Her name’s Isabella. She was a gift from my father.”
“Wow, a momanda dad? Who knew you came from such a stable upbringing?”
His gaze dims, and when it does, something strikes against my chest, making me regret what I said, even though I shouldn’t feel bad. He’s the absolute worst and I need to keep remembering that.
Still, I make a mental note to never make fun of his family or childhood again. Right now he seems to be in a good mood, but I don’t want to deal with him when he’s not. I’ve had plenty of experience with him cold and aloof, and I can only imagine what he gets like when he’s truly angry.
“Speaking of my mother,” he says, “we’ll go see her Sunday afternoon.”
“Oh.” My brows spike up. “Okay, um…does she know? About us, I mean.”
He looks at me, amused. “She doesn’t.”
I let out a huff.
“You seem surprised,” he says dryly.
“The opposite, actually,” I reply. “Nothing about this moment is surprising. I absolutely believe you didn’t tell your mom you got married, the same way I believe you own a giant predator snake as a pet.”
His jaw ticks. “Lots of people have snakes as pets.”
“What’s it eat?” I peer over at the cage again.
His grin grows. “Rats. Mice. Lizards. Flesh of my enemies.”
I scrunch up my nose. “You’ve got a sick sense of humor.”
He laughs.
“So this is your hobby?” I wave my arm toward the enclosure. “Keeping pet snakes?”
He slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels, his head tilting to the side as he stares at me.
God, he’s attractive.
A flash of heat scorches through me when I remember sitting on his lap and rubbing against him.
“I don’t know if I have any,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
I shake my head, taking a step toward him. “Everybody has a passion, Julian.”
