by KV Rose
But then I think about Sid and Lucifer.
What I know of them.
And I didn’t write it. Maybe we just are what we are, and no kind words or tearful moments will change the dark inside of us. Maybe we’re all born a little wrong. Maybe some people get to grow right, with love and care and attention. But the rest of us, we stay wrong, and we harden.
Mom hardened, and there’s no thawing her now.
Maverick pulls my hand over to his thigh as he drives, one hand on the wheel. He glances over at me, and I rub my free hand down my ripped jeans.
“You okay, baby?” he asks me quietly. This, coming from the man whose father is still at home, healing from the wound his own daughter gave him. Maybe it’ll give Maddox Astor time to think about his son’s words. Maybe it’ll thaw him. Or maybe that’s hoping for too much.
I nod my head in answer to Maverick’s question, look out the window as we drive past an empty field. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m okay.” I’m not, of course, but I don’t want to talk about it.
He sighs, his hand squeezing mine a little tighter. “You know we have to talk, right?”
I tense. Swallow down the lump in my throat. Keep staring out the window. I don’t reply, but I don’t think he expects me to.
“I know it’s soon. And I know…I know this probably isn’t how you imagined your life to go.” His fingers tighten around mine so much it’s almost painful, but I keep staring out the window, waiting. “And I know I’m a dick, and I know we’re going to fight, and I know that you might not trust me. Or my family. My…brothers. Everything you’ve learned about me.”
I hold my breath, tears pricking in the back of my eyes.
“And I know I don’t deserve you, Ella. I’ve known that since the moment I met you, sitting against that tree like the world could go fuck itself as long as it left you alone.” He huffs a little laugh. “And I didn’t,” he continues. “I couldn’t leave you alone.”
I exhale, but I don’t look at him.
“But I hope you know that I meant what I said. You belong to me, and I belong to you.” He takes a deep breath. “And I hope you know that coming to live with me, coming to make my house yours…” He trails off, because I do know. I know what it means.
I don’t speak for a long moment.
“Will you keep me in that house?” I finally ask. “Hide me away like your books and your journals and your…letters?” My voice is small and I hate that, but I can’t ask it any other way.
“I’ll keep you with me.” It’s not an answer and he knows it.
I don’t reply.
He sighs. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Ella—”
“I’m nineteen,” I snap, turning to look at him for the first time. He might be god, and I might throw myself at his feet, but I have a whole life I haven’t lived. Things I want to do. And I know he’ll take care of me. He already has. I know he thinks he loves me. But… Sid left Lucifer, after everything I learned he did for her.
She was trapped.
What if I get that way?
He glances over at me, still driving. His jaw is clenched, and he loosens his grip on my hand, but doesn’t let go. “You’re not Sid,” he whispers. “And I’m not Lucifer.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s true. I’m not her. She’s…far stronger than I’ll ever be. And Lucifer is wrecked. I never want to do that to Maverick.
“You’re not her, and I’m not him, and you belong with me. I won’t trap you, Ella, but you have to understand, while his methods were wrong, I’m not much different than him. I don’t want you to smother underneath me but I’m not ever leaving your side. Not if you choose this.”
“And if I don’t?” I counter, knowing the answer and dreading it.
He swallows. “If you don’t, you can leave.”
I shake my head. “That goes against everything I’ve heard you say—”
“I don’t fucking care,” he snaps, his eyes darting to mine for a second. “I won’t let them hurt you. They won’t fucking touch you. If you want to leave me, be my fucking guest. No harm will come to you. I’ll throw money at you, Ella. You can go where you want. Live where you want. Be who you want.”
I turn to stare out the window again, my heart aching.
“You think someone like Con could you make you happy?” There’s a bitterness to his words, but it seems the question is genuine. “You think a nice boy will be what gets you off? Keeps you satisfied for the rest of your life, Ella? You think that’s what you want? Or do you just want to try everything?” He snorts. “I can understand that, baby, so don’t lie to me. What do you think it would take, to keep you happy?”
“I’m nineteen.” I don’t even know why I say it, like it’s a defense or something. I am nineteen, but…love doesn’t really have an age. I know that. My mom is thirty-five and she doesn’t know a damn thing about love. Lucifer is in his twenties, Sid, too, and they’re dying over one another.
I’ve wanted to drown in Maverick for so long, but I thought it was all part of what was wrong with me. Why I’d been sent to The Ark in the first place. Why I saw a therapist and she told me I needed to morph that obsession I’d had with Shane to myself.
I’d needed to love myself.
It scares me, thinking I might love Maverick more.
He doesn’t say anything, but then he pulls off the side of the barren road, fields on either side of us and stops the car.
I turn to stare at him, my mouth open, but nothing comes out.
He gets out, comes around to my side, yanks the door open, reaches around me and undoes my seatbelt. He pulls me out, slams my door, and shoves me against the car, his hand flat on my chest.
“What do you want, Ella?” He leans down close, his eyes lit with anger. Frustration. Maybe something like sadness. “Tell me what the fuck you want. Because I won’t do it. I won’t do what he’s doing.” He flings his hand out behind him, to the wind, as if Lucifer is right there in that field. “So tell me fucking now. If you don’t want this—”
“You’ll what?” I challenge him, my eyes hard as I lean up toward him, my hands balled into fists. “You’ll take me right back to where I belong, in that trailer? You’ll call up that girl you fucked in front of me—”
He puts his hand over my mouth, leans in close. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Ella. I love you, for fuck’s sake.”
My eyes widen, my pulse pounding beneath his hand.
“I fucking love you and I didn’t see you coming. I never saw this coming, okay? But I love you and your fucking red hair and your freckles and how you could eat everything in my goddamn house and still want more. I love how you beg me, how you want me to hurt you, how you kiss me. How you’ve defended me more than anyone else has in my life.”
I realize I’m not breathing, and I don’t want him to stop talking. My heart swells with his words. Words I’ve never heard from anyone in my life. Words I never thought I deserved.
“I love you, goddammit, and I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind. If you don’t feel the same way.”
Slowly, he trails his hand down my mouth, over my throat, one hand still against my chest.
I swallow back the tears. “I love you, too,” I gasp. I grip his shirt, and his eyes soften, relief flooding his features. “I don’t understand everything. What you do. What your brothers do. I don’t get it. But I don’t care. I never have.” I yank him closer and my lips brush his. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiles and it’s so fucking beautiful I want to cry all over again.
“I’m not going anywhere, Mavy, as long as you keep feeding me.”
He tips his head back and bursts into laughter and my heart feels like it might burst with him on the side of this stupid, lonely road.
I uncurl my hand, letting go of his shirt, and he grabs my wrist, lifting up my palm. Watching me, he runs his tongue diagonally down my skin, heat in his gaze.
It burns, his mouth o
n the cut.
It burns, but I’d let him cut me open and tear me apart over and over again. And I did, just the other night. I paid him back, too, in his own blood, on his hand.
Coagula.
To bind.
We’ve been bound since he first left a mark on me, the very first night I met him.
“I love you,” he says again, his lips brushing my palm. “We aren’t them,” he reminds me, seeing something in my gaze. “We’re us.”
I nod. Us. I’m not sure us is any better than them, but what is there to do about that?
Let it go.
I do.
I let it go, and I let Maverick toss me back in the passenger seat, do up my seatbelt. I let him drive me to his house, where the boys are probably still sleeping and where there’s more cookie dough in the fridge.
I don’t know what I’m going to do now. The world seems full of possibilities, and it’s not just the money or the house or the new people in my life.
It’s him.
He set my heart on fire when I wasn’t sure I could feel a fucking thing anymore. But I feel him, burning in me, and I know that flame will never go out.
He’s not any less damaged than when we first met, and neither am I. It’s not even that our broken pieces fit well together; they don’t.
It’s that we’re willing to step in the glass, bleed a little for each other; that’s what matters. That’s what our love is. Broken, bloody, and perfect.
“Would you really have let me leave?” I ask him after a few minutes of silence.
He laughs. “Of course not, Ella. Not ever.”
A Letter
Mav,
Thank you for this. I know it probably isn’t easy, keeping a secret from your brother. But I have to talk to someone, or I’m going to lose my mind.
He’s become nearly unbearable. The drugs, the music, the way he loses himself for hours at a time upstairs in our bedroom. He’s never hurt me, and he wouldn’t. I know that. But he’s not himself. Or maybe he’s exactly himself, and I’m only just now seeing what that is.
Or maybe it’s me.
I think I’ve made him this way.
This is likely my fault, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’d fall apart without him, and I think he would do the same, without me.
And yet…
I spoke to Jeremiah.
Through a letter, so just relax, okay?
I had to. I had to know how he was, and Lucifer flies into a rage if I so much as mention him.
Jeremiah is okay, which I’m sure you don’t really care about. Or, maybe you do… Either way, he’s okay. Brooklin is great, he says, and yeah, yeah, I know that could be a lie. But I don’t think it is.
He likes her. He would probably love her, if he knew how to do that.
He’s been keeping tabs on me, which is how he knew where we were. I’m sorry things got out of hand, and even still…something he said, something he asked me when he was all over Ella (be nice to her, okay?), it kind of got to me. I don’t want to rehash it, but…anyway.
He cares about me, and I think that’s the worst part. If I could pretend I was just an object to him, just something for him to own, it would make this easier. This separation. But he cares.
He knows I’m pregnant, and he still cares, which is saying something, considering this is Jeremiah Rain we’re talking about.
But back to what matters.
Lucifer is lost, Mav. His father’s death, all he did for me…it hurt him more than he wants to admit. He needs help, and the longer I stay here, the longer he feels he has to keep me caged here, the worse he gets. The more lost he becomes, inside his own mind.
I thought Pammie’s death would help, but it made him angrier. Maybe he wanted to play a role in that, too. I just thought we could pay him back for all he did for me, but…
I’m sorry I’m ranting. I’m sorry this is all about me, but I feel like I’m going to explode, Mav.
I told him I’d keep the baby. For him, I’d do anything.
That includes giving him space. Time to heal.
I’d do that, too. He might not do the same for me, but I would. For him. It would kill me, being apart from him. It would kill me, too, because I know the only safe place I could go would be back into Jeremiah’s arms.
But it would only be for a little while. For Lucifer and me to breathe.
Is that so wrong? To want for us to heal?
Tell me what you think and don’t hold back (not that you ever do).
I love you.
Love,
Angel
Epilogue
After Noctem
“You actually thought I’d let you go so easily?”
“It wasn’t easy, Jeremiah.” I missed you.
He nods, tightens the cuffs. “No. It was impossible. I can’t live without you, and I don’t really care to die anytime soon.”
“So you’re going to keep me here?” I don’t bother trying to get up from the bed. I’m too tired. “You promised—”
“Shh, Sid.” He sits down at my side, brushes my hair from my face and leans down close, planting a kiss on my forehead. He stays there a moment, and when he speaks, it’s against my skin. “I promised you freedom,” he agrees, hand still on my head. “But I promised him I’d protect you.” He pulls back, smirks down at me. “And I know how much you like to run.”
I frown, confused. “Him?” Lucifer would never let me go. Ever. It’s why I had to get out. And when the 6 came for us, even though I’m one of them, when they came for me and Ella, I knew we had to leave.
And when Jeremiah followed us, because he never stopped watching that gated street, I knew he was who I would leave with.
“Your…” His lips twist and he sighs. “Your brother,” he finally says, answering my question. He must hate giving up that role. Must hate that I know I’m not his little sister anymore.
But that means he can do what he wants with me.
Even still. Maverick told him to protect me?
He must see the confusion on my face. “You weren’t the only one exchanging secret letters, baby.” He trails his hand down my face, cups my cheek, rubbing his thumb against me.
A shiver slides down my spine.
He glances at my stomach. “He thought it was best. For you and…the kid.” He swallows, meets my gaze again.
“He knew?” I thought when he saw me at Noctem, when Jeremiah had followed the blacked-out SUVs that took us from my own house, kicking and screaming, I thought that was the first Maverick would know I was really, truly leaving.
Jeremiah nods.
“And he just…let it happen?” My throat feels dry and I know I shouldn’t ask it that way. Lucifer boxing me in was exactly what led to me being here. But I always want things I shouldn’t. Things I shove away. Things I run from. I always want what I say I don’t.
Jeremiah smiles. “I gave him Brooklin.”
My mouth falls open.
“He wasn’t going to give you away for free, baby—”
“He did not give me away,” I growl, trying and failing to sit up, my hands bound behind me to the iron bedframe. “I chose to go.”
He sighs, trails his hand down to my throat and rests it gently there. “You did,” he agrees. “And you have no idea how happy that makes me.” He floats his hand down further, over my breast, my nipples hardening beneath the black shirt I’m wearing. I see him smile and I know he can feel it, but he doesn’t say anything. He keeps moving until his hand is resting on my stomach.
I suck in a breath at his possessive touch, his pale green eyes flicking down and then back up to meet my gaze.
“I would never hurt you, Sid,” he tells me, splaying his fingers wide. “You know that, don’t you?”
No. “And what about…” I dip my eyes down. I’m not showing. It’s still early. I could still end this, if I wanted to. If I knew it wouldn’t kill my husband.
Jeremiah shakes his head. “Never.”
“Even th
ough it’s…his?”
His fingers curl against my belly, and he looks away, his jaw tightening. But then he nods. “Never,” he repeats.
Relief spreads like warmth through my limbs. “What about when I decide to go back?”
He stands to his feet, dropping his hand as he turns his back to me, shoulders shifting beneath his grey jacket. He laces his fingers behind his head, still not looking at me.
I roll my eyes, unseen by him. “You have a pregnant girl chained up to your guest bed right now, Jeremiah. Don’t start freaking out on me yet and add verbal abuse to your list of sins.”
He drops his hands by his sides, and I hear a low laugh. “I’ll let you out, Sid,” he says quietly, his laugh dying away. “I just didn’t want you to slam the door in my face and shut me out before we could talk.”
I snort. “You think I’d be able to shut the door in your face?” Yeah, like he’d ever let that happen. He’d break the damn thing down before he let me do that.
But he turns to stare at me, cocking his head. “I’m doing things differently,” he says softly. “I promised you freedom. If that’s what will make you stay, if that’s what’s going to make you choose me over him, I’ll give it to you.” He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulls out a small key. To the handcuffs, I realize. He steps toward me, leans down and presses his lips to mine.
I don’t kiss him back. I know what Lucifer almost did, both at Liber and at Maverick’s. I know, and I understand that, too. Our house has been like hell. He was frustrated.
But he would never want to hurt me.
And I won’t hurt him like this. Leaving was painful enough. I won’t do the one thing he could never forgive me for.
“Just don’t run again, Sid. Not until you’re really sure.” Jeremiah reaches over me to undo the cuffs. “I’m tired of playing these fucking games with you.”
Those last words are bitter. A little violent. And I can’t help but smile.
That’s the boy I know.
A boy of ruin.
Afterword
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