Page 79 of Made in Malice

“Funny girl,” he mutters under his breath.

“Maybe I should call you Lurch since you’re so fond of nicknames. It fits perfectly since you’re tall and creepy.”

When he reaches forward like he might grab me, I start to laugh and lean away. “I’m just kidding. You’re not that tall.” Nox bursts out laughing at my jab, and we both snicker for way too long.

“Try it and see how it works out for you.” Lucian sulks.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. You call me lamb like it’s my given name, and we both know why.”

“We do?” He tilts his head, waiting for my response.

“To the slaughter,” I say, and that cunning smile returns. My stomach does this weird roll when he blinks slowly and shakes his head.

“Wrong, but I like that too,” he agrees.

“Why do you call me that then?”

“I’ll be right back.” Lucian rises from the couch and saunters out of the room, ignoring my question.

“I’m right, aren’t I? He’s just messing with me,” I probe Nox.

“I don’t think so, but you’ll have to ask him to be sure.”

“He won’t tell me,” I reply.

“He will if you ask nicely enough,” Nox flirts, and I try to act unaffected.

“What are we watching? I vote for a scary movie.”

“You like scary movies?” He seems surprised.

“Used to. I haven’t watched one in a while. It’s not that fun when you live alone in a crappy apartment and fear for your life when you walk home from work.”

“You walked to work?”

The question alone is enough to showcase the differences between us. I wonder if that’s what it’s like for them when I’m surprised by something in their world. “Rode the bus most of the way and walked from my stop, which wasn’t very far,” I divulge.

“I’ve never even had a job,” he says softly. He’s not bragging. If anything, he sounds disappointed.

“You’re not missing much.”

He turns to focus on me, locking those light blue eyes on mine. “When did your parents die? How did it happen?”

I blow out a breath. I wasn’t expecting that question, but somehow, it seems more palatable coming from him because I know he’s experienced the same kind of loss. “About three years ago, we were in a car accident.”

Nox sits up abruptly. “You were with them?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re okay?” His face scrunches up a little.

“For the most part.”

“What does that mean?”

“I got pretty banged up and was in the hospital for a long time. I missed a lot of school, and my kidneys were damaged.” It’s tougher to admit the last part. Most days, I forget my life could change at any time, and the likelihood of having issues when I’m older is almost a forgone conclusion from what my doctors said.

“That’s why you can’t take ibuprofen?”

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