Page 16 of Pray for Scars
I roll my neck, bite my tongue.
“The guest bed, though, don’t worry, man. Not mine.”
I say nothing.
“You coming or am I gonna need to feed her tonight?”
I ignore his innuendo. “Find out what Jeremiah did to her.” I pull my lighter from the cup holder, put the cigarette to my lips. “I’ll be there in ten,” I say around it.
It should take me twenty, but with Mav and Sid under one roof together, I’m not going the fucking speed limit.
I light the cigarette, toss the lighter aside, turn up the music from the steering wheel and letDo You Really Want Itby Nothing More blast through my speakers as I fly down the road to Lilith.
Chapter Six
Mayhem watchesme from the doorway, his arms crossed as he leans against the frame, his baby blue eyes never leaving mine. He’s wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt that stretches across his chest. I can see the tattoos up and down his arms, the inverted cross on his face which pulls up as he smiles at me. His cheekbones are angular, much like Lucifer’s. But where Lucifer looks like a demon, Mayhem looks like some sort of sinister angel.
It makes him all the more unsettling.
He took me from Lucifer’s house, where he watched me like a hawk, down the street to his, walking with me over his shoulder two houses down.
Now he’s got me chained to the fucking bed and I’m wondering about those sins I’m going to pay for. Wondering how many more I’ll commit before this is all over.
“You comfortable, Angel?” he asks me softly. As if he might actually mean what he’s asking. As if he might actually want to know.
No, dick,I think, but don’t say anything.
Mayhem is high as hell, because I watched him pace outside of this bedroom in the hallway, over and over, while he burned through two joints, speaking on the phone. I didn’t hear the conversation, but I caught the name “Benji”. Whoever the fuck that is.
The scent of marijuana lingers everywhere in his house. But unfortunately, even high, he knows better than to leave me in here alone, in this fucking mansion that looks like a dark prince from the Medieval times should own it.
Even this bedroom—a guest bedroom, I assume from the lack of personal touches—is furnished with a queen-sized bed draped in dark grey sheets, blackout curtains over the windows. He’s got the adjoining bathroom light on, but otherwise, it’s dark in this house.
Dark, and quiet.
Lucifer’s house was much the same, like these boys are fucking vampires, stalking in the shadows. Feeding silently on their prey.
I wonder if they’ve killed as many people as my brother. I wonder if I’m going to be one of those people before the sun comes up.
Mayhem sighs, runs a hand through his hair. It stands on end, looking as if he just fucked someone, and he walks toward me. I tense, scramble back against the headboard, draw my knees into my chest. The chains rattle, and he rolls his eyes, taking a seat at the ottoman at the foot of the bed, his back to me.
“Relax,” he drawls. “I’m not gonna fuck you again.” He glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes shining, a smirk playing around his lips. “Unless you want me to?”
I hold his gaze. “Go ahead.”
His eyes narrow and he turns his head from me. I see ink on his neck, too. “You always so willing for any man that comes your way?”
I think of Jeremiah. Of me in his lap, his hands on my ass. Of Lucifer, his gloved fingers running down the length of me.
The knife.
I let my eyes flutter closed, lean my head back against the grey headboard behind me, rotating my wrists in their too-tight cuffs.
“If they pay enough.”
Mayhem laughs. It’s nothing like Lucifer’s raspy, dark laugh. It’s more boyish, charming, almost.
It makes it more eerie.
