Page 26 of Run Like the Devil

“I thought you would have recovered longer at Tyrus’,” I said. “It has only been two days.”

“I don’t like people hovering over me.” She leaned back in the corner of the couch, slouching down, looking a few moments from passing out. “I couldn’t even move without someone asking me what I needed. It made it impossible to relax at all.”

“Should I leave, then?”

Loch looked up, meeting my gaze, then shook her head. “No. I don’t really want to be alone, either.” She let out a soft snort. “Isn’t that funny? I don’t want people hovering and I don’t want to be alone, either. I guess I’m a little fucked-up, huh?”

Her self-deprecating humor put me on edge, made me hold my temper so I didn’t snap at her. The last thing she needed was my lecturing her. Instead, I went over to the couch and took a seat on the other side of it, leaving plenty of room between us. “It’s not uncommon to feel conflicted.”

“I wanted to come back to my own space. No matter how welcoming Tyrus is, that’s his place. I couldn’t relax.” She offered me a smile that could have almost seemed shy. “Maybe that’s why I don’t mind you here, because you belong here, too.”

“This reminds me of when you came back injured before.”

“After you healed me, I found you on the couch, asleep. It was weird to see you like that, because you always had your guard up. Do you not sleep because you’re an angel?”

I nodded. “Angels only require sleep when we’re injured or use too much power. I could have healed you far more easily if I weren’t in the Chasm, if I wasn’t in a demon form.”

“But you did it anyway, even knowing it would exhaust you?”

“How could I not? Even back then, no matter how you frustrated me and fought me, I wanted you safe and happy. It was the very least I could do.”

She sighed and shifted slightly until her head leaned on the armrest of the couch, her body curled up. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could face Hubis, and I was so sure I’d come out on top. Now, though?” Her words trailed off, as if she had no idea how to finish the statement.

“You can still do it.” The certainty of my own words shocked me. Hadn’t I just been thinking that we had no real shot? That Hubis was too powerful for us to have any hope of winning? Yet when I considered her failing, some part of me refused to accept that. Even if I couldn’t picture us winning, I also couldn’t imagine Loch failing.

Failing meant death, and I could not accept that.

When she didn’t respond, I looked over at her, wondering if I’d pushed things too far. I found Loch there, asleep, as if exhaustion had hit her so hard that she’d all but collapsed on the spot.

I didn’t fight the smile that tugged at my lips. Some part of me liked that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep mid-conversation with me. I went into the bedroom, careful to make no noise, and took a blanket from the bed. I set it over her, my movements cautious so as not to rouse her.

She didn’t move at all, but a line between her eyebrows said she slept fitfully. I wished I could take that from her, that I could carry all her worries and fears for her, but I knew better than most that wasn’t possible.

We all had to carry our own burdens, our own pain. All I could do was remain by her side and help her stand when she stumbled.

And that was more than I ever thought I could get.

Chapter Seven

Loch

I peered at the uneven path before me, the rocks darker in color than any around them. “I always figured a road to Heaven would be gold bricks or made of diamonds or something.”

“Not Heaven,” Gorrin said from my left.

Would that ever get old? It felt like a shitty dad joke that I just couldn’t let go of. Each time I said it and one of the Lords responded with that same bored, not-even-annoyed-anymore response, my stomach fluttered a bit.

And I’d fucking take what pleasure I could.

An entire week had passed since Hubis’ little lesson. I’d slept a lot, as if my mind had wearied rather than my body. I’d tried to remind myself that what I’d seen had been nothing more than a movie, something someone else had experienced but not me. Those things hadn’t broken my bones, hadn’t cut into my skin, hadn’t abused me. I’d only see what someone else had survived.

That trauma wasn’t mine to carry.

Of course, telling myself that didn’t make my body or mind believe it. Some of my jumpiness had abated, but I still struggled with touch. When I’d stumbled on the way to the Path, Hale had caught my arm to keep me from slamming my face into the ground.

And I’d reacted by yanking away, the action landing me on my ass while Hale had lifted his hands and rushed out an awkward apology.

Still, I was better than right after. I could talk with the Lords now, could handle being in close quarters with them. So long as everyone kept their hands to themselves, I was fine.

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