Page 84 of Made in Malice

“I do know that, but why did you bring me here?” She’s searching for a reason, something that will validate why she should stay, and I know I’ve already won.

I fight my smug grin but feel the corners of my mouth pull up when I say, “Because I knew I was keeping you.”

She rolls her eyes and spins away from me. “Are we going to finish the movie or what?”

My eyes are glued to her ass as she saunters out of the room. I’m going to have my name tattooed on her cheek. I bet I’ll have to hold her down for that one. Now my smile is full blown. Good thing she doesn’t look back, because she might see just how disturbed I really am.

NOVA

Despite what Lucian said, I am dumb. I shouldn’t be here, not in this house, not even on this island. I should be back home in my crappy apartment, dreading my next shift and wondering if I’m going to make enough to pay rent and go to the grocery store.

The realization that I want to stay makes me think I should have my head examined. I knew I was lonely, but I never thought I would sink to these levels, yet here I am, in the house of the guy who called me names and humiliated me because he’s making promises he won’t keep, but I want him to. How can I know with everything in me that this is a mistake, but still want to make it?

“Here.” Nox pulls a velvety black blanket off the couch and drapes it over my legs. The weight is welcome, even though I’m not really cold. The movie is winding down, and it’s super late. I should be sleeping, considering I need to get up in the morning for school. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just stay awake and start walking home soon so I can shower and stuff, but I don’t know how to get out of the gate, and I sure don’t want to try to climb it. With my luck, I’d impale myself on one of those pitchforks.

“Thanks. Do you think you could give me a ride home before school?” I ask Nox.

He lifts his eyes over my head, checking in with his brother. After a second, he agrees. “Sure, we can give you a ride. What time is your first class?”

“Eight fifty-five, but I need to shower and stuff. It might be easier if you just took me home now.”

“Nah, we’ve got you.”

“What if Rory or Astrid ask where I’ve been?” I’m not sure they would. Heck, I feel like I rarely even see them at this point, but it could happen.

Lucian enters the conversation. “Tell them you were here.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to affiliate. They are not going to tell me anything if they think I’m friends with the enemy.”

“Are we friends, lamb?” I can’t tell if Lucian’s question is condescending or genuine.

“I didn’t say that,” I hedge, because it feels like a trap.

“I want to be friends.” He leans in when he says it, getting closer to me than necessary, and it messes with my head.

“Do you even have friends, Lucian?” I don’t mean it as an insult, but I could see how it would sound like one.

“Sheep can’t be friends,” he counters.

“So that’s why you call me lamb. I’m a baby sheep.” I’d actually gotten comfortable with the nickname, but hearing that he thinks I’m like all the other idiots bothers me more than what I thought the name originally meant.

“Nope.” He slowly shakes his head in denial, and his lips curl up. I should be worried, because when he smiles, it always spells trouble for me. “You want to know why you’re my lamb?”

I nod, because I don’t want to admit it out loud. That way I can deny it in the future if he tries to use it against me.

“How badly do you want to know? Enough to kiss me if I tell you?”

I glance over at Nox, not sure I heard Lucian correctly, but he’s just watching me as if he’s waiting for an answer. “You don’t want to kiss me,” I counter.

“The question is, do you want to know badly enough to let me kiss you?” he challenges, neither confirming nor denying my claim.

“You want to know how far I’m willing to go to get what I want,” I surmise.

Lucian shrugs lazily, and his eyelids lower. A warning bell goes off in my head and body. This Lucian is more dangerous than the one who’s willing to get up in my face. This is the Lucian who can be careless and not understand his own strength. The problem is, I don’t understand the warning, which makes it hard to heed.

My instincts are warring. Kissing him would be a disaster, but there’s a part of me that wants to know what it would feel like to be ruined. It’s just a kiss, right? It’s not like I’m agreeing to more. My stomach does this funny dip, like I’m turned on by the thought of what more could mean. That should be enough to have me running from this house, but it’s not.

“Tell me first,” I counter.

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