Page 39 of Slay Me

Lightsfrom the carnival below shine brightly, but unlike most nights, I feel no pride when I stare down at them. The whiskey in my hand does nothing but burn as it slips down my throat. Still, it’s a hell of a lot better than fucking water.

At least, right now.

Behind me, Liv continues to sleep soundly in her bed. With all the others down entertaining the patrons, there was no one left to watch over her.

So, here I am.

Breathing the same air as a woman I should have sent on her way the moment I first found her in that alley. Hell, I should have let them fucking kill her. Saved myself the trouble.

Even as I think it, my hand tightens around the glass.

Her death would be a living nightmare.

“I guess, since you’re here, it means I’m alive. Unless, of course, this is hell.” Her voice is hoarse.

Turning, I watch as she manages to scoot herself up and lean back against the headboard. I take my seat on the windowsill before downing what’s left in my glass. “How are you feeling?”

“Gross.”

“Fiona and Adaya cleaned you up after you vomited.”

“So that happened.” She groans. “Everything is a bit of a blur.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “My head is pounding.”

“You were poisoned.”

Her eyes open. “Poisoned.” It’s not spoken as a question, and there’s little surprise.

“Yes. Fiona believes it was Valentina, but she swears it was not. Are you certain you ate nothing but the fruit?”

“Yes. Honestly, I forgot to eat the rest of the day.”

“Adaya believes the poison was specifically brewed to target your fury blood.”

“Which means—”

“Someone went through a significant amount of trouble to try to kill you.” I watch her expression closely, searching for any flicker that might mean she has an idea of who would have done it, but aside from blatant confusion, I sense nothing. “Is it possible Ernesto might have—”

“He wouldn’t poison me,” she says quickly. The air around her shifts, her scent morphing into one I’ve recognized means she’s afraid. “He’d want me to know it was him. The bastard revels in torturing his victims, so trust me when I say, if he wanted to kill me, he would do so face-to-face.” A tear slips down her cheek as she closes her eyes again.

Unable to help myself, I stand and cross the room toward her to take a seat on the edge of her bed. I rest a hand on her leg, the comforter our barrier. “You will be eating with me from now on. And only eating the food that is prepared for me.”

“You can’t be serious. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Yes. You do.”

Her cheeks turn a fiery pink. “People already think there’s something going on between us.”

“Let them think it, then. I’d rather there be a rumor than have to bury you because something else slipped by. Whoever did this is going to try again, and I’d rather be able to catch them before they succeed.”

Chapter13

Liv

One week ago, someone tried to kill me.

Seven breakfasts.

Seven lunches.

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