by Katie May
“Do you…?” I begin tentatively.
“Do I remember who you are?” He releases a bitter laugh. “Unfortunately. Oh, and I apologize for trying to shoot you earlier.”
CHAPTER 12
AVERY
Very few kills have made me as happy as my most recent one.
Mr. Whitmore’s death was quick. Painless, some would say. I don’t kill people to inflict maximum pain; that’s Arsin’s specialty, not mine.
I kill because they don’t deserve to exist anymore.
I’m actually grateful that I know the truth of my identity. Now, my need for death makes sense.
I’m fucked up. There’s no denying that, and I wouldn’t even if I could. I’ve long since embraced every dark facet of my nature. There’s a stain on my soul that’s been there for as long as I can remember—an eternity.
I remember how it felt to wrap my hands around his throat. His eyes had widened, bugging out of his head, but it only spurred me on.
This man tried to hurt Emily. I couldn’t allow someone like him to live. How many other women did he proposition? How many had he forced?
No, a parasite like him deserved to be eradicated.
I squeezed until his pleading eyes rolled into the back of his head. His wife slumbered in the bed beside him, blissfully unaware of the murderer hovering above her.
I spared her, of course. I’m not a complete monster, and from what I gathered, she was completely oblivious to her husband’s illicit activities with unwilling college students.
The rage I felt when I saw Mr. Whitmore place his hand on Emily’s thigh was unlike anything I ever experienced before. It released something inside of me, something I kept locked away in a steel box. In that moment, I wasn’t merely Avery Living.
I was death.
I followed Mr. Whitmore to his house, where he kissed his wife passionately. And then he left, claiming that he had to attend a staff meeting.
Instead, he drove to a sleazy motel where an eighteen-year-old girl waited for him. She smiled seductively at him, batting her fake lashes, and he ate it all up. She had him promise that he would raise her grade, and only when he agreed, did she strip out of her clothes and take his wrinkled cock into her mouth.
Absolutely disgusting.
He pawed at her small breasts, pinching her nipples, and she moaned as if she actually enjoyed it. Didn’t he see the disgust written across her features?
I couldn’t help but think how different things would’ve been if Emily hadn’t escaped him. Sure, this girl seemed willing enough, but how far would Mr. Whitmore go? He obviously isn’t above blackmailing.
So I killed him.
I’ve killed a shit ton of people since I’ve been on Earth.
Honestly, I didn’t think Emily knew about my pastime. A burst of light erupts in my chest with the realization that she noticed me, noticed what I did for her.
Currently, she’s asleep, her tiny body curled into a tight ball. When Tate arrived, she took one look at the smug asshole, sighed heavily, and then walked away.
Those two have never been able to see eye-to-eye. They’re quite literally explosive—one moment, they’re madly and desperately in love, and the next, they’re planning each other’s murder.
Planting a tender kiss on her forehead, I slip out of the room, now dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants. The rest of my brothers are congregated in the living room, whispering harshly to one another.
As I stare around the cosy living room, I feel a familiar tingle erupt in my chest. It’s…rage.
These men who call themselves Emily’s mates tried to kill her. I knew about the explosion—who didn’t?—but Emily hadn’t told me about the shooter.
How dare they sit in our living room and act like nothing’s wrong? How fucking dare they?
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m across the room and driving my fist into Tate’s smug face. The shock in his eyes would’ve been comical any other day, if I wasn’t so incredibly pissed.
“What.” Punch. “The.” Punch. “Fuck?” Punch.
“Is this some kind of kinky foreplay?” Sin questions from somewhere behind me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. “I’ll deal with you in a little bit.”
“Ohhhhh.” Sin cackles. “I call bottom.”
Crazy fucker.
Before I can land my next punch, Helio captures my fist, yanking me away from Tate.
“What the hell?” I wheel on the towering man, holding his stare when a lesser man would cower. Helio? He’s a terrifying motherfucker. His time on the human realm didn’t change that. I’m quite certain he could—and would—kill me if I ever hurt Emily. “Do you know what he did?” I seethe, baring my teeth. I feel feral and out of control.
Tate’s voice comes from the ground, and a surge of satisfaction unfurls within me when I see his face is a myriad of bruises.
“Let him get his anger out,” he drawls in that lazy voice of his. I swear, he always sounds like a condescending prick. Time hasn’t changed that. “He probably has years of pent up aggression. Did I hear Sin right? Did you live with Emily for years and never fuck her?”
My power explodes out of me, encircling Tate, but he merely sneers up at me. How can Emily love him? He’s cruel, egotistical, and cares more about himself than anyone in this world. Me? I’ve loved Emily forever, before I even understood what love truly was.
I WATCH the goddess turn towards her lover, Desmond, with a giggle. He catches her easily and pecks a simple, chaste kiss to her awaiting lips.
The garden is beautiful at this time of day. Meticulously groomed hedges line the walkway, leading to a white-painted gazebo. A stone bench sits beneath the canopy, and that’s where Emily and her lovers currently are. Helio stands behind them, a silent shadow. I know he can sense my presence—has always been able to—but he remains tight-lipped.
Emily looks radiant today. Her dark hair is luscious, hanging nearly to her waist in thick curls I yearn to put my hands through. Her eyes sparkle with mirth as she whispers something in Desmond’s ear. Though I don’t know the man well, I respect him immensely. He’s the only one capable of putting such a smile on her face.
If Helio is her strength, Desmond is her joy.
And I’m just her stalker.
I’ve become content with my position in life. After all, she’ll never care for me like I do her.
I think I’m already in love with her.
No, I don’t think so. I know so. When I’m in her presence, the rest of the world fades away. The voices in my head—the voices demanding I kill, kill, kill—begin to quiet.
“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper?” a soft voice asks, raspy with laughter.
I jump, startled, and lose my balance on the thin tree branch I’m resting on. Her giggles reach me as I scramble to regain purchase, gripping the trunk of the damn tree like a spider monkey. Helio’s lips twitch, and Desmond smiles widely, displaying two rows of perfect teeth.
With a confidence I don’t feel, I swagger forward and offer her a boyish grin. I’ve always been told I have a face and a presence that puts people instantly at ease. It’s ironic, really, that they see the God of Death as something angelic.
I’m the monster that makes angels weep.
“How long have you been watching us?” Emily’s voice is not accusatory, as I would’ve expected. Instead, it’s simply curious. She raises a manicured black brow and leans further into Desmond’s side.
Two months. Three weeks. Four days. Thirteen hours. Forty-six minutes. Five seconds.
But who’s counting?
“We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk since I came here,” I begin smoothly.
“So you, what? Decided to stalk us from the trees until she notices you?” Desmond quips, but it’s not malicious. If anything, he finds this entire situation humorous. I don’t understand him. At all.
If my sources are correct, he had Emily all to himself at one point, until he ag
reed to bring Helio in, making their relationship unconventional. Both men are loyal to her and only her. Why would he share her? Why not just keep her to himself?
“Well, we were having an argument,” Emily says, straightening out her crimson dress. It cinches around her waist before cascading outwards. And fuck, does she look radiant in it.
“An argument, eh? How can I help?” Almost instinctively, I find myself sitting on the other side of Emily. Helio stares at me intently, eyes almost assessing, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he nods once and continues to keep watch over his queen and lover.
I never did get to figure out what they were arguing about.
Before she can answer, a familiar, mousy figure hurries into the garden, panting.
Rebecca, Emily’s assistant and best friend, straightens with a severe scowl on her face.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asks instantly, jumping to her feet. Desmond stands as well, all of the playful cheer from before diminishing from his face, and Helio takes a step closer, crowding in from behind. I find myself moving as well, reaching down to take her hand in mine. She seems shocked, body tensing, before she gives my hand a grateful squeeze.
“Athena,” Rebecca growls, face pinching. “She slaughtered twenty of our troops at the border.”
Athena is the goddess who resides to the east of Emily’s kingdom. According to my spies, Athena has an army of her own that is beginning to rival even Emily’s impressive force.
And Athena is also a massive bitch.
“Fuck,” Emily curses. She begins to stride after Rebecca, Desmond and Helio on her heels. I remain behind, knowing that I’m not needed for this debriefing.
Normally, it’s just Rebecca and Emily’s lovers. Sometimes she’ll invite her foreign diplomats.
But Emily surprises the shit out of me when she pauses abruptly, turning to stare at me over her shoulder. I momentarily lose my capability of speech, utterly enraptured by her penetrating gaze.
“Are you coming?” she demands, cocking her hip to the side. Desmond coughs to cover up his laugh, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush.
“Um…yeah.” With another wide grin, I hurry towards them.
I didn’t know it at the time, but when Emily called me, she also claimed me. Claimed me as hers.
Forever and always.
I GLARE DOWN AT TATE, mustering all of my rage into that one eloquent look. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m only mad at him. Sin tried to kill her too, and I know for a fact he hasn’t—and won’t—apologize.
But something about Tate has always rubbed me the wrong way. He treats her as if she’s dispensable—as if he can find himself a new lover if he ever so desired.
And yet, despite his crude and outright nasty behavior, he hasn’t strayed. He hasn’t so much as looked at another woman in all the years I’ve known him. A part of him hates Emily, but a larger part of him loves her.
“You don’t deserve her,” I hiss, spitting on the ground beside his mottled face. Shoving Helio’s hands off of me, I turn on my heel and stalk towards Emily’s room.
I need to be with her right now. I need to hold her in my arms and know innately that I’m allowed to. That she’s mine as surely as I am hers.
Just as I enter the hall, Tate’s voice reaches me, barely audible, “I never said I did.”
Ignoring him, I slip into Emily’s room, pull back the blanket, and slide in beside her. Immediately, her tiny body molds against my own until our two hearts beat as one.
I don’t know what the fuck happened to lead us here…
But I’ll be damned if I let someone take her from me again.
CHAPTER 13
I wake to an empty bed.
At some point during the night, I remember Avery crawling in beside me and pulling me into his arms. It felt right…and weird. It’s hard to reconcile the off-limits best friend with the lover. It feels as if I’ve lived two entirely different lives, and I can’t seem to separate the two.
I stare up at the rotating fan a moment longer than necessary. I never noticed before, but there’s a water stain in the corner of the ceiling, the color darkening to a moldy green interspersed with flecks of dark blue and black.
Fuck, I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to face the men awaiting me in my living room. Because if I see them, I’ll have to accept that this is all real, that the life I’ve been living for…for years has been nothing but a lie. It’s almost too painful to think about, like a broken bone that hasn’t quite set right.
The thing is—life hurts.
A lot.
We can pretend it doesn’t, plaster on fake smiles, but there’s no denying that life is a fucking bitch.
Seeing Tate again is the final nail in my metaphorical coffin. No, it’s not just that. It’s the ropes slowly lowering the coffin six feet into the Earth. It’s the shovel filling the grave with fresh, compacted dirt.
Put your big girl panties on, Em, and get the fuck out of bed.
Scowling at the ceiling, I shove my blankets to the floor and meander towards my bathroom. After a quick shower and shave, I dress in a pair of leggings and a sports tank top. I take a brush through my dark hair but don’t bother to braid it away from my face.
I feel like a warrior charging into battle. Only instead of battle armor, I have my own steely determination to defend myself. And I’m gonna need it, especially if I have to face off with fucking Tate.
Tate Blake.
Ha.
When I exit my bedroom, I see Avery in the kitchen, booty shaking as he whips up a batch of French toast. This time, he’s wearing a white apron with the words “Kiss the Chef’s Ass” etched across the front. When he turns, focusing on the griddle, I see his gorgeous ass cheeks.
“Hey, stranger,” I say, smacking his ass as I enter the kitchen. He turns towards me with his familiar boyish grin.
“For a moment, I thought you were Sin,” he replies easily.
“Does Sin spank your ass a lot?” I lift an eyebrow as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Wait. Don’t answer that. It’s Sin, of course he does.”
Avery chuckles easily as he begins separating the French toast onto five plates. In the living room, I can see the rest of my men engaged in a heated conversation. Well, Helio and Tate are. Arsin is lying upside down on the couch, his head brushing the ground and his legs draped over the back.
“We need to talk,” Avery continues, voice softer than before. He follows the direction of my gaze. “Something happened to us all, something that caused us to lose our memories. We need to figure out what’s real and what’s not. How long have we been away? Who did this to us? Why did they do this to us? There are so many questions.”
“I don’t think my family is actually my family,” I whisper, the pain of those words unfurling in my stomach like a blossoming flower. And though it hurts, I feel my power consume it as greedily as it does physical pain. It’s a heady sensation—the more internal pain I feel, the more pleasure it generates, until my entire world trembles on its axis.
“Sweetheart,” Avery coos, reaching for me at the same time I reach for him. I rest my head on his chest as he rocks us back and forth. This…this is familiar. This is the embrace of my best friend. There’s no confusion in the way my body feels against his, the way his heart beats beneath my ear, the rhythm as steady and as soothing as a drum line.
I wonder if I should be more upset over the revelation from last night—that Avery murdered all of those people—but all I can muster up is an intense longing for the man before me.
The thing is, murderers don’t crawl out from underneath the bed with glowing red eyes and blood dripping from their serrated teeth. They can be friends and family members, lovers and co-workers. They can be the person sitting next to you for decades who you only exchange an occasional conversation with. And believe me when I say those monsters are the most insidious, demonic humans imaginable.
But Avery? He’s my monster.
A body pr
esses against my back, arms encircling both Avery and me.
“Hmmm, this is nice,” Sin sighs, nuzzling the back of my head. “You smell like flowers and sunshine and pain.”
“How can pain even have a scent?” Avery questions, reluctantly releasing me. When he turns back towards his now-burnt French toast, Sin smacks his ass as hard as he can. “What the fuck, man?”
When Sin removes his hand, I see the beginnings of blisters erupting on Avery’s cheek. The smell of burnt flesh permeates the air.
“At least I didn’t play whack-a-mole with your cock,” Sin says cheerfully, and the expression on Avery’s face? Priceless.
“I’m going to…um…go get dressed.” Avery unplugs the griddle and glares at Sin before planting a tender kiss to my forehead. Words aren’t necessary; I can feel his love and devotion for me through that chaste press of lips. “Don’t be too hard on them,” he murmurs in warning.
With one final glance at Sin—warning the crazy man with his eyes not to set his penis on fire—Avery stalks towards his bedroom.
“Darlin’,” Sin begins, his Southern accent even more pronounced as he wraps his arms around me from behind. “I want to move in with ya.”
“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I say evasively, allowing him to waddle us forward into the living room.
“Mine,” the God of Flames purrs as he nibbles on my earlobe. I feel a slight sting, and I glance down just in time to see his finger traveling over the bare skin at the bottom of my stomach. A tiny flame rests on the tip of his finger, burning me in the best possible way.
Ignoring my body’s visceral reaction, I step out of Sin’s embrace and perch on the edge of the couch. Moments later, my eccentric lover plops down beside me, immediately placing his head in my lap and purring like a contented cat.
“Obviously, there’s a lot we need to discuss,” Avery says, emerging from his bedroom and tugging his shirt down. I can’t help but admire his bronze, sculpted stomach. When he catches my ogling, he winks, flashing me a pretty boy smile at odds with the monster I know him to be.
