Page 222 of Boy of Ruin
Mayhem told me Maddox was buried next to his father.
Another one down, but with the investigation into who took Elijah’s wife, who stalked me in the woods behind Jeremiah’s house and got my pictures—the thought makes my skin crawl, knowing someone was watching me who I didn’t know—who killed a dancer at Jeremiah’s club, and the retaliation against Maddox’s suicide hasn’t come.
But then again, he did it to himself.
I have no doubt one of the three of us would have killed him in that cabin in the woods, but the fucker didn’t even give us the chance.
Lucifer angles the knife so the sharp side is against my skin.
I tense, but I don’t look away from him. “I know you don’t want to do this.”
“You think I want another man’s name on you, baby girl? You know better than that.”
I reach up, cup his face with my hand, taking in the beautiful curve of his cheekbone. “Your baby is listening right now,” I tell him quietly, my thumb stroking over his bottom lip.
His eyes widen, his already-pale face turning ashen as his throat bobs.
“You want them to hear their father threatening their mother with a knife?”
He blinks down at me, but he doesn’t move, one hand pressing into the mattress, the other still holding the blade to my belly. Then he says, “Did you tell Jeremiah just that when he made you bleed?” There’s venom in those words, but there’s pain too.
I feel it, not just from him. From me.
From thinking about what he went through while I was gone.
His eyes find the scar on my brow for a second. “I made you bleed too, yeah, baby girl? But that’s because you’re mine. You’re mine to do whatever the fuck I want with, because at the end of it all— all the fucking pain, all the agony, the goddamn tears and blood and bruises—I’ll always put you back together.” He leans down close, presses a kiss to my mouth. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never fucking run from you, Lilith, like you did from me.” He drags the knife softly over my skin and I suck in a breath, my hand going to his shoulder, my other one, too, holding onto him. “I might make you cry. I might hurt you, just as bad as you hurt me. But that’s the difference between us. When it gets hard, I’m not going to run. And you fucking left me when I needed you. So, don’t think for one fucking second you’re going to manipulate me into not carving any trace of him off of you.”
I dig my nails into his skin, prepared to fight him off if he tries. I’m glaring up at him, holding my breath as he speaks.
“Because it’s not about him. It’s never been about him. It’s about you, Lilith. Fucking you.” An anguished groan escapes his lips and he throws the knife across the room. It hits the window, then clatters to the floor as I flinch, trying to catch my breath.
“It’s about how you always chose everyone but me.” He pushes back, away from me, sitting on his heels, raking his fingers through his hair before he drops them down to his thighs, his hand over his Unsaint’s tattoo and all the scars along it, his boxer briefs the only thing he’s wearing. “You always ran away from my pain, while all I wanted to do was fucking hold yours. Hold you. Keep you together.”
His words cut deep.
I sit up slowly, thinking of all the ways I fucked him over. The ways he’s fucked me too.
“Lucifer,” I whisper, reaching my scarred hand out, the one with the black ring. He looks up at me, full of mistrust, shadows under his eyes, his face still healing from Jeremiah’s fists. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, and I mean it.
I really mean it.
I don’t regret the time I had with Jeremiah, but I can understand how that fucked up my husband. And I know he knows why I ran, and I know he’s used to this life. The threats. The rituals. The freaky shit.
I’m not.
And his nightmares…the way he acted like he couldn’t stand the sight of me sometimes…it hurt.
“I’m sorry for running, but I’m not anymore.”
He swallows as he takes my hand, threading our fingers together. “Did you hate me?” he asks quietly. “Did you think…maybe that I was…broken?” He looks down at me with wide blue eyes, and he looks so vulnerable, something in my chest seems to crack. Just like that night I ran down the stairs, trying to find him, soothe his nightmares, I feel a rush of protectiveness toward him that I don’t think I’ve ever felt for anyone else, save for Jeremiah Rain.
“What?” I ask him, shaking my head, my lip trembling. “Of course not. You never thought that about me—”
“You’re not,” he says quickly, and I shift forward, on my knees too, so our legs are brushing against one another. “You’re not broken. You’re perfect, Lilith. You’re fucking perfect for me. I just… don’t know why it took you so damn long to figure it out.”
I still haven’t.
“I don’t deserve you,” I say out loud, exactly what I’m thinking. “I don’t think I…” I trail off as Jeremiah’s words get stuck in my head. “I never want you to forget that you deserve it. My love. His love.”
