Page 134 of Boy of Ruin
A name.
Ella.
Leading down into the waistband of blue shorts and—
“Angel, get up.”
My arms are slid under a pillow, my head feels…heavy. I swallow, and the taste of blood is bright on my tongue.
Blinking again, my eyes trail up the ink, the six pack, a broad chest, and…Mayhem’s baby blue eyes are on mine, his brows pulled together, his expression, ominous. The inverted cross beside his eyes tugs down, his lean jaw clenched.
“What—”
“I need you to get up in about two seconds, or your husband is going to come burn my fucking house down.” He sighs, scrubbing his tattooed hand over his face. I see my name, and my stomach flips.
He drops his hand, cocks his head as I try to muster up enough strength to push myself up.
Why am I here? What the fuck happened…
With a gasp, it all comes back to me.
Jeremiah.
Where is Jeremiah?
I must ask it out loud as I push myself up, the room spinning, because Mayhem steps closer to the bed I’m in, reaching a hand out to me, but I jerk out of his touch, scrambling back against the bed, the sheets clenched tight in my fists.
“Where is he?” I ask again, taking in the room. Dark floors, dark walls, dark curtains just parted, letting in a stream of sunlight. How long has it been since Mayhem led me out of Lucifer’s house? Since I saw fucking Ophelia walking from our bedroom? How long has it been since Jeremiah has been in that—
Mayhem’s hand is around my arm, jerking me to the edge of the bed. I snap my head up, my legs dangling off the mattress, and he steps between them, bringing his other hand to my chin, tipping my head up to meet his gaze.
I’ve still got my hands fisted in the sheets, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts, my mind spinning, chest aching.
Is he still in that fucking cage?
Is he still there?
“I need you to get up, get dressed,” Mav jerks his head toward the door, “Ella has some shit you can borrow. Speaking of, she made breakfast, and she’s going to be very fucking upset if you don’t eat it, okay?”
“Where the fuck is Jeremiah?” I ask, bringing my hands to Mav’s hard torso, shoving at his core.
His muscles flex beneath my fingers but he doesn’t even take a step back. His grip around my arm only tightens, and it isn’t until he says, a sly smirk on his face, “Careful, Angel, I saw what he did to you,” that I realize what I’m wearing.
I look down, Mayhem holding my face too tight for me to dip my chin, but I see my bare legs. The oversized black T-shirt I’m wearing that must be his.
I see the scar on my thigh, from my husband.
But that’s not what he’s talking about.
He’s talking about…Jeremiah’s initial carved into my skin.
He saw me naked. Changed my clothes.
“Yeah,” he bites out, and that smirk is gone as I look back up at him. “Did you want to start World War fucking Three?” His light blue eyes dip down to my lips before he looks back up at me.
My stomach flips all over again, and I clench my thighs together, around his legs.
He still doesn’t smile. Instead, he jerks me even closer, so my head is nearly level with his abs. “Please tell me he forced that shit on you,” he grits out.
