Page 70 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
Piper stands a few feet away, arms folded, watching the men with that quiet, unreadable expression she wears so well.
For a moment, I think she won’t speak at all, but then she draws a small breath and lifts her chin.
“I think it’s better if you leave,” she says, her tone soft but poised. “I’ve no idea why you came here in the first place, but…” Her eyes flick briefly to Adelaide before dropping again. “There’s another room upstairs. It has a king bed. You can share, if you must.”
Silence stretches after her words. Piper’s voice isn’t loud, but it carries, steady despite the faint tremor I catch at the end.
She glances down almost immediately, fussing with the sleeve of her jumper as though she’s said too much.
Across the room, Hunter’s gaze lingers on her. His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something there—something that looks remarkably like pride.
Then Piper turns and makes for the stairs, her steps quiet.
Hunter follows a beat later, his eyes still on her as she disappears from sight.
I can feel Arlo’s gaze on me, heavy and unrelenting, but I keep mine fixed elsewhere, pretending not to notice.
Adelaide exhales sharply, turning to Isaak, and then to me, pointedly. “I told you he’s the bloody devil,” she mutters. “Appears out of nowhere, like he’s just teleported straight from hell itself. Probably keeps a portal handy for dramatic entrances.”
Isaak regards her with the sort of disdain reserved for intellectual disappointment. “You truly can’t be that witless, viper. The devil is a theological construct, not a physical entity, and teleportation, while a fascinating theoretical notion, remains firmly within the realm of speculative physics. Try engaging your brain before speaking next time, it’s allegedly a fine one.”
Adelaide arches a brow, unruffled. “Oh, forgive me, devil. I forgot your degree in condescension came with a minor in arrogance. I was making a point, not defending a thesis.”
He lets out a low breath, almost a laugh. “You’re studying law, not philosophy, and yet you scored ninety eight on that jurisprudence exam, one point above me, though frankly I’m starting to suspect clerical error. Listening to you now, I’d place your IQ somewhere near room temperature.”
Her eyes flash. “And yet you followed me here, didn’t you? Seems intellect doesn’t exempt you from poor judgement.”
She turns sharply on her heel. Isaak follows, their voices rising in another volley of barbed remarks until the sound fades up the staircase and a door slams shut above.
Silence.
Just me and Arlo.
A faint scent of smoke makes me frown. My gaze darts toward the stove. “Oh, damn it.” I rush over, grateful to find the sauce merely threatening to burn, not ruined.
I turn off the heat, cover the pan, and exhale.
When I turn back, Arlo is still there, watching me. Seated on the stool where he’s been eating rambutan, as if he owns the place.
I open my mouth to speak, but he stands.
Slowly.
So slowly.
He takes a step toward me. I take one back.
He smirks.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice tight.
“Where else would I be?” he asks.
Before I can respond—before I can even make sense of what’s happening, he closes the distance, grabs me by the waist, and hauls me effortlessly over his shoulder.
“Arlo!” I gasp, my fists hitting his back, but he doesn’t even flinch. He’s already taking the stairs two at a time.
Chapter 24
