Page 80 of Pray for Scars
I don’t look up as I crawl, don’t dare look at Lucifer as he watches me, silent. My face feels like it’s on fire, and the anger in my gut churns and morphs into hatred.
When I’m at Jeremiah’s feet, I stop, but don’t dare look up.
“Take off his pants.”
“Fuck you, you piece of—” I start to snarl.
I hear Lucifer hit my brother again.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and reach up, fumbling with the button to Jeremiah’s pants. I unzip them, see he’s wearing grey boxer briefs. He’s still leaned against the wall, and I see sweat on his brow. His eyes are open, but they look glassy.
“Pull them off,” Lucifer commands me.
With trembling hands, I do.
Then I sit back on my heels, watching. Jeremiah’s pale green eyes are on me, and he looks as if he’s holding on. To me. Trying to be there for me when he can’t really be. But his eyes close for a second, and I wonder if he’s about to faint.
He blinks them open, although it looks like it takes effort.
I don’t look away from his gaze as Lucifer squats down beside me, tapping the gun against his thigh.
“Go ahead, Sid,” he says softly. “Go ahead and fuck him.”
I tear my eyes from Jeremiah. “He’s not my brother,” I spit, my voice low. “So if you want to watch me suck his dick, fine. That’s your problem.”
“My problem?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Whose dick you suck isn’t the real problem.Youare the real problem. You’re a problem for my father. You’re a problem for me. For my brothers.” His gaze flicks to Jeremiah, but only for a second. He grins at me.
“The 6 deal in murders and politics and lies and money with so many commas you wouldn’t know how to pronounce it. They deal in the deaths of the defectives and blood ceremonies and secret societies and doing whatever the fuck they want. The Unsaints? We just do their bidding. And their bidding involves you in one of two places.” He licks his lips and holds up one finger. “In the ground.” Another finger. “Or carrying my fucking baby.”
Not this shit again.
Jeremiah tenses. “You’re fucking insane, Malikov. If you lay a fucking hand on her, I swear to God—”
Lucifer laughs. “You’ve been laying enough hands on her for the both of us,Brother.”
“Let you knock me up, or you’ll kill me?” I scoff, interrupting the hit bound to come from Lucifer’s hand again against my brother’s face. I can see his fingers twitching.
His eyes dart back to me.
“That’s my options? You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Malikov.”
I use his last name, his father’s name, to piss him off. It seems to work. I see the veins in his arms, his sleeves pushed up to his forearms. I see the way he tries not to clench his fists. “Hell, evenMaverickwas more attentive than that.”
Lucifer runs his tongue over his teeth, looking down at the floor. “Yeah, Maverick really likes to use a belt on dirty girls. And fucking your brother, Sid, well, it doesn’t get much dirtier than that.”
I’m aware that Jeremiah is staring at me, his mouth open. I realize he has no idea I had slept with Mayhem.
But even that thought doesn’t stop my mouth from saying something it shouldn’t.
“I dunno, Luce,” I croon. “I think your stepmom’s lips around your dick might be just a bit worse. Did Mayhem use the belt on you, too? Or did you get enough of that from Mommy number two?”
Lucifer’s eyes flash. And then he comes toward me. He pulls me up, pushes me against the wall, cradling my head with one hand to stop it from slamming against the wall. Jeremiah calls out his name, but neither of us look to him. I can smell Lucifer’s cigarettes and that damn pine scent he always smells of, but more than that, I can feel his anger.
He moves his hand from my head, slams it on the wall above me.
“Lucifer—” Jeremiah growls.
“Go ahead. Hurt me,” I taunt Lucifer. “Hurt me like she hurt you.”
