She spots me in the mirror, her gaze narrowing, and her lip curling as she takes me in. I go to make a snarky comment about the fact that her make-up clearly isn't vegan and I'm pretty sure the brand that she's using was involved in an animal testing scandal a couple of years ago.
But then I just stop. I'm so fucking tired of all the drama.
“Why are you so afraid of me?”
“What the fuck?!” Amber scoffs, spinning to glare at me, crossing her arms and curling her upper lip. “Why would I be afraid of orphan trash like you?”
“I have four amazing men who will love me no matter what. I’ll never be alone, never be lonely. I’m married to Ash Vanderbilt, heir to a billion-dollar empire. I have majority shares in that billion-dollar company. My future is secure and full of love.”
A thought occurs to me then and gives me pause. Maybe Amber and I have more in common than I first thought. We are both pawns in a game of chess played by greedy men.
“You don’t have to do as he says, you know,” I tell her, looking her directly in the eyes, even as she raises her chin. “You don’t have to be a pawn in your father’s game. You are a strong woman, Amber. Don’t become what he wants you to be.”
Her facade cracks a little, like the fine lines of a porcelain cup that’s been left out in the frost. Her lip wobbles ever so slightly, and her crossed arms appear more like they are hugging her and protecting her from this cruel world. Then I watch as she straightens her spine, adopting that mean girl persona once more like armour.
“Fuck you, Lilly,” she spits out, turning on her Birkenstock heel and sweeping out of the bathroom, her clones giving me a confused look before following after her.
Well, that could have gone worse I suppose.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
LOKI
Iwatch from the couch as Lilly comes down the stairs with heavy-lidded eyes. But the fact that she’s here and not asleep in the middle of the night tells me that she, too, is having trouble sleeping. I know that she’s been this way since we got her back. Restless, unable to relax.
And who can fucking blame her after what she went through. I want to bring that cunt back to life just to torture him all over again for hurting our girl, and don’t get me fucking started on Julian.
She spots me sitting in a shaft of moonlight, her lips tilting upwards, and my heart pitter-patters in my fucking chest at her smile.
“Can’t sleep either?” she asks in that beautiful voice of hers. It’s like music to my love-struck ears, and I never want to stop hearing it.
She comes over to me, sitting next to me on the couch and snuggling under my arm. Shit, I still can’t believe that we got her back and she’s now here. Prickly guilt stabs into my chest, the blame of her being taken still raw for me, no matter how many times she tells me that it wasn’t my fault.
Shaking my head, I wrap my arm around her and breathe the sweet scent of her hair in. Well, Ash’s ginger scent as she’s still using his shampoo, which the asshole lords over the rest of us at every opportunity. I’m waiting to point out to him that she may use his shampoo and be his wife, but I was the one to put a baby in her. Not sure I’ll be able to run fast enough when I do remind him of that little fact.
“Did I ever tell you about the fallen angel tattoo?” I ask her, wanting to distract her from the worries that are creasing her brow as I look down at her.
“No,” she replies, eyes alight with curiosity.
“Well,” I begin, pulling her closer to me so that I don’t have to look into those stunning eyes of hers. It’s funny how I can torture and kill a man without a shred of fear, but talking to this goddess about my past fills me with fucking dread. “I got the piece done after Luc…” I swallow, the wound of his suicide still a sharp pain, though it is duller than it used to be. “After Luc killed himself. I felt like I’d let him down. Fuck, we were close, and I didn’t see it coming at all. At the time, I blamed myself for not seeing the signs of how badly he was hurting, thinking that I could have stopped it somehow.”
“It’s not your fault, Loki, love,” she interrupts, and I smile into the darkness at just how fucking good this woman is. She’s always trying to help us, assure us, and I fucking love it. I squeeze her tighter.
“I know that now, Pretty Girl. But then, I was fucked up. Turning to drugs and pussy to try and forget. I think that the fact that my parents didn’t give a shit about me also contributed to feeling like I wasn’t enough,” I confess, feeling a lessening in the tightness that I always carry around in my chest. She doesn’t interrupt this time, other than to snuggle into my chest. “I wanted to mark my skin, to see the wound I was carrying inside on the outside. I looked up fallen angels. They have been thrown out of heaven. Lost the battle and are a symbol of pain, suffering, and sadness. Of shame,” I whisper the last part into the darkness, taking another deep inhale of her scent. I love how it’s often a mixture of all of ours, plus her own fresh spring smell. It calms my raging emotions.
“They are also a symbol of rebellion against society’s rules,” she tells me, pulling out of my grip and swinging her leg over mine until she straddles my hips, her hot, panty-clad core right over my rapidly hardening shaft. Fuck.
She reaches a hand on either side of my face and tips it up until I am staring right into her beautiful eyes.
“So, maybe your ink is about your future as well as your past?” she asks, and my hands tighten on her hips, my throat thick with emotion for this girl. She has this ability to make me find the light when I’m drowning in fucking darkness.
“I fucking love you, Lilly,” I tell her, speaking around the lump in my throat. She leans in, her breath, sweet and minty, fanning over my lips as she replies.
“I fucking love you too, Loki.”
With a deep groan, I close the minuscule distance between us, pressing my lips to her soft, pillowy ones and devouring her with my kiss. Fuck, I would go all Hannibal on her if cannibalism didn't mean that she’d be dead.
She kisses me back just as hotly, her hips moving and grinding down on my now rock-solid cock.