Page 30 of Created in Chaos

Surprising me, Nox wraps his arms around me from behind and pulls me down onto the bed to lie next to him. “You realize neither of us care, right?”

LUCIAN

Nox deftly reassures Nova in a way she might not trust from me while wrapping her in his arms. It’s a smooth move, and one I approve of. She needs to get out of her head and stop worrying about what everyone else thinks or finds normal. We have never been like the sheep and never will be.

Listening to her get her heart broken on the phone wasn’t easy, but it’s a necessary evil. I was worried Astrid would play nice and my lamb would want to go to her to at least hear her out, but the old bitch got sloppy and desperate. She let her true feelings show, and it backfired on her.

The phone, now lying forgotten on the bed, blinks to life as a call comes in. I know the moment she feels the silent vibration and decides to ignore it, which reassures me that our girl isn’t going anywhere.

“What should I do?” Nova questions, sounding unsure. It’s a double-edged sword. I like that she’s looking to us for answers, but I hate that she feels the need to.

“What do you want to do?” I lead her into answering for herself.

“I’m not sure, but I know what I don’t want. I’m not going to let her use me as some baby factory to keep her stupid name alive.”

“It’s not just their name, it’s yours too,” I remind her.

“My name is Nova Devlin,” she retorts defiantly.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re also an Umbra,” Nox reasons.

She pouts on a sigh. “I never should have answered the door.”

Her comment stings a little, which is strange, considering words don’t usually affect me. It forces me to acknowledge, and not for the first time, that she is a weakness to me. “It could always be worse. We could still want you dead.” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth, and even more so when I see the injured look on my lamb’s face. She pulls out of Nox’s arms to sit up and create distance between them.

“Yeah, there’s always that.” Her tone is flat, lacking any emotion, but I don’t need to hear it when I can see it on her face.

I open my mouth twice to say something, anything, like an apology, an admission that I wasn’t thinking, or even the truth—I spoke out of hurt because she said she would be happier never having met us—but I don’t spit a syllable out of my tongue-tied mouth.

“Do you have my keys?” She changes the subject fast enough to give me whiplash, triggering my obsessive need to keep her with us.

“Why? Are you going to try to escape us, lamb? It’s far too late for that.” I have no problem forming words now, even ones that seem vaguely threatening.

“I can’t stay here forever, pretty boy, but I was going to pick up my final check from Hooker’s.” Her stormy eyes are locked on mine, expecting me to deny her. She wants a fight, whether she’s willing to admit it or not.

“We can take you,” I offer.

“I can go myself.”

“You haven’t been cleared to drive yet.” The thrill of arguing with her excites me. It’s like I’m feeding off her reaction.

“I was never told I couldn’t.” Her tone is growing more and more clipped. She can’t feign indifference.

“An oversight on the doctor’s part. I can call him right now so you can hear it straight from him.”

“He will say anything you tell him to.” Her little hands are curled into fists, and I bet her palms have score marks from her nails. I want to feel them on me.

“Exactly, lamb,” I tell her with a sharp smile, which I’m sure will piss her off more. Her body actually jolts forward as if she’s going to snap into action. I lean back in the chair, ready to accept all of her, but she stops short of hurling herself at me. “Such a tease,” I mutter. My cock is hard, and I don’t hide how turned on I am.

Surprising me, she doesn’t shy away from watching me adjust myself, not even when I give my length an extra squeeze. Her chin tilts to the side the tiniest amount, but the shift in her gaze tells me so much more. My lamb may not have gone to the most expensive schools or had the best tutors money could buy, but she’s smarter than any of the assholes who did. Her full lips part, and I see the very tip of her tongue snake across her top one. I can practically hear the I got you.

I played my hand, and she called me. She knows just how much she affects me. Now the only question is, how is she going to use that info?

Seconds tick by with us in a silent stare off—me waiting for her next move, and her planning it. Finally, she says, “I’m going to go for a walk alone.” Holding up her hand to stop my immediate refusal, she adds, “I will stay within the Morningstar boundaries. When I get back, will you take me to Hooker’s?”

The air I was holding to mount an argument fizzes out of my chest. She knew she could get away with a great deal if she wanted to and use the knowledge of how much she affects me against me, but she didn’t. The skeptical part of me thinks she’s waiting for a better time, when it will benefit her more, but the side of me I didn’t know existed until I met her says I’m wrong. She’s not like everyone else, and I need to trust her as much as I demand she trust us.

“Okay, lamb. Take your phone and stay away from the shoreline.” The sea can be brutal, especially when you don’t know it well, and I don’t want her getting into trouble when she’s alone.

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