“I’m not Brennan, baby.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. And we weren’t together anymore.”
“I know we weren’t.”
“It wasn’t just her. For a year or so after I got back and learned all about you and him, I fucked just about anyone who wanted me, trying to get you out of my system. Didn’t work.”
“No?”
“No. You’re so deep in me there’s no chance of ever getting you out.” He paused, stood there watching me, and the intensity in his gaze made my stomach twist. “Once I realized that, I gave up. I tried to make myself okay with the whole you and Brennan thing, because I know you. I knew you’d fight your way back here someday. And I thought I deserved to have to watch you with him. Especially after the way I made you hurt.”
He shook his head. “I knew it would be bad, Molly. But knowing and experiencing it are two different things and I swear to you I didn’t realize how bad it would be. How much it would hurt. I didn’t believe it would destroy you the way it did. The second I woke up in the Nether and felt what it was like to have my soul and yours ripped apart, I knew that it was all so much worse than I imagined it would be. So I thought, if he can make you happy, if he can make you feel alive again, who the fuck am I to stand in the way of that?”
I looked away, unable to handle the way he was looking at me. “We argued about you.”
“He mentioned that.” We stood there for a few minutes, awkward. “Is it true you hunted down all of Astaroth’s allies the night I died?”
I nodded. Still couldn’t look at him.
“I saw those photo albums in your room,” I said softly.
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends over the years.”
“Only one wife, though,” he said. “And you ruined me for anyone else. No one has ever made me feel the shit you do. No one’s ever made me as pissed off and frustrated. No one’s ever tied me in knots the way you can. I’ve never been the begging kind, but you’re the one being in existence who’s able to bring me to my knees.”
I turned away, shaking my head. “I’ve heard this shit before.”
“Yeah. But now you’re hearing it from me.”
I stood, facing away from him, looking toward the kitchen.
“Was there more stuff to bring back from my house?” I asked, desperate for a change of subject.
“Yeah.”
“Is it bad?”
A pause. “Yeah. It’s bad. I can dig out what’s left, Molls.”
I shook my head. “No. I should do it. It’s my house.”
“We can go back whenever you’re ready.”
“Now?”
“If you want.”
I nodded. “There are boxes down in the garage.”
He came over to me then and took my hand, led me toward the door. We rode down in the elevator together, and he was mercifully silent as we drove toward my neighborhood.
Chapter Twelve
When Nain turned onto my street, I was tempted to close my eyes. I should have. I looked at my house as he drove up to it, the house I'd bought with money I'd squirreled away after two years of living in my car, the house I'd worked on and fixed up and turned into the first real home I'd ever had, and I couldn't help it. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I brushed them away. I was angry, and seeing my house like that was like an arrow to the heart.
Nain and I sat in the truck, him waiting while I got over the impact of seeing my house like that for the first time. I shook my head, opened my door. I grabbed a couple of boxes out of the back of the truck, and watched as Nain did the same. I walked toward the house, and when we met at the front of the truck, he took my hand in his, and we walked toward the house together.
“You can get in the back door still,” he said, pulling me toward the back of the house. “The front is all caved in.”
I nodded numbly, rage coursing through me. His rage, my rage.
“I am going to catch the bastards who did this,” I muttered.
“Not if I catch them first,” he said. “Probably part of Strife's group, right?”
“That's what I'm thinking. She’s probably pretty pissed at me for taking out Terror. Did you see her mark anywhere?”
He shook his head. “I didn't look hard though. We'll check the area out before we leave.”
He opened the back door, and the smell of smoke, soot was even stronger than it had been on the outside of my house.
“There might still be some kitchen stuff I didn't grab,” he said. Then he took a box toward the living room. I could see that it was completely trashed, walls blackened, the ceiling and my bed and dresser from my bedroom upstairs now where the coffee table and sofa had been. Everything was charred, and I couldn't even recognize a few things, they were so melted.
We started rooting through the living room. My Moonbeam alarm clock that had been on my nightstand was there, but it was melted. I threw it aside in irritation. I glanced up. Not all of my bedroom floor had fallen in. Only where my bed had been, where the fire had started. Where the fireball had landed after it had sailed through the window. I was relieved now that the few things I didn’t want to lose (Nain’s notes to me among them) I’d kept in that metal box in the basement.
“How did you get the McCoy?”
“Those planter things?”
“Yeah.”
“Went upstairs.”
I turned and looked at him. “Are you kidding? You walked up those stairs and into what was left of my bedroom to get a few planters? You could have fallen through.”
He shrugged, went back to sifting through the debris on the floor. “I liked a few of those, too.”
“Yeah? Which one?”
“That blue one I brought you earlier.”
I squatted down, found some of my jewelry, still intact, though its wooden box was destroyed. “What was so great about that one?”
“That was the one on my side of the bed.”
I let that pass. Didn't want to think about how perfect it had been, for just a few hours. We'd made love, fallen asleep together. Woke up, and he'd made me breakfast. We'd performed the demon marriage bond again. We'd danced, sunlight streaming through the kitchen window.
He'd died hours later.
It was like watching someone else's life, remembering. And now we stood in the charred remains of what could have been our home, once upon a time, both of us having lived through death, a chasm now between us that felt wrong in every way. A chasm I was starting to despise, no matter how hard I fought against what I felt for him.
“You know what I thought last night, after I knew everyone was out and okay?” I asked as I moved aside some charred flooring from upstairs. Making conversation, rather than letting my thoughts continue on the path they were heading.
“What?”
“They were lucky they didn’t hurt my dogs. I seriously would have gone all Ares on them if they had.”
He grunted. “I was pissed when I realized you took them when you moved out. I was used to having them around.”
“I think they missed the fancy doghouses you had built for them.”
“Yeah? I think they’re my dogs as much as yours at this point.” He sifted through what was left of my living room bookshelf.
I shook my head, tossed a pair of silver candleholders that had managed to survive into one of the boxes. “Were you going to take me to divorce court over it?”
He looked at me. “We're not divorced.”
“We're not married, either.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he said. Then he stopped, looked around. “What are you going to do about this?”
I looked at what was left of my house too. “I think I’m going to have to let it go. I don't have insurance. Never needed it because I paid for it in cash. It would cost more to rebuild than the house would even be worth, in this neighborhood.”
I glanced his way to see him watching me. “What do you want to do?”
/> I shook my head.
“You want to rebuild it?”
“It doesn't matter what I want. I can't.”
“Why not?”
I stared at him. “It costs money, Nain. I don't have that much left in my account.”
He looked up as if he was trying to keep his patience. I felt irritation rolling off of him.
“You own a fucking multi-million dollar loft. You have over three million dollars in your accounts. You can afford to rebuild if you want to.”
“No. You have all of that.”
“I gave it to you.”
“Bullshit. It was mine upon your death. You're not dead anymore.”
“It was yours the second you became mine,” he said, walking toward the hallway. “And like I keep telling you, that hasn't changed.”
I stared after him. After a few seconds, he started talking again. “You want to rebuild, do it.”
“Like I have time to worry about that,” I said, again, stupidly touched by the way he was looking at it.
“Nice thing about being rich: someone else takes care of all the details for you. We can have it rebuilt exactly the same if you want. I know you liked all that old-fashioned shit.”
He came back into the living room holding a couple of small dishes, a vase. “Are these anything?”
I nodded, took them from him and set them into the box.
“One thing, though.”
“What?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Keep the bedroom in the same spot. It was nice waking up with the sun coming in like that.”
“You act as if you're going to wake up there again,” I said, crossing my arms. “You sure you don’t want a bigger room? Bigger bed?”
He stepped close to me. We were both filthy, grubby. We stunk of smoke. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. “That’s because I will be waking up in your bed again. And no, I don't need a bigger one. We only ever used one body's width anyway. Me, on top of you.”
And then he lowered his head the rest of the way, closing the distance between us, and his lips claimed mine. He held me tight to him, kissed me as if I was air and he’d been suffocating without me. I put my hands on his wide shoulders, trying to find something to hold on to, trying to get a grip because I was slowly but surely feeling myself falling all over again for this demon who wanted every part of me. Even my darkness. Even my screw-ups. He wanted me. All of me.
I kissed him back, bit his lower lip the way he’d always liked, and he rewarded me with a low growl, a deeper, harder kiss, his hands roaming, refamiliarizing themselves with what had once been his, squeezing my waist, my ass, as he ran his hands down my body.
Nether was silent. On top of everything else, he had the power to make her shut the hell up for even a little while. He brought his hands up to my hair, pulled my head back, forced me to look up at him. “I need you, Molly,” he growled. “I’m out of my mind with it. Come back to me.”
I met his eyes. My stomach twisted, and I found myself clenching my thighs together, my stupid body betraying me, just as it always had around him. He could have done it. He could have had me right then and there, and I would have given him whatever he wanted. We both knew it.
I let out a small laugh, still breathless, my body still trembling, still needy from being in his arms. “Haven’t we had enough disasters in the past day or so?”
“We’re creatures of the Nether. We thrive on disaster,” he said. ”Tell me you don’t want us as much as I do.”
I should have. Should have told him I didn’t want him anymore, that I didn’t still feel every cell in my body exalting when he was near, that I didn’t dream about him at night. That the sight of my ring on his finger had satisfied a possessive streak I didn’t know I had. So I said nothing.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he said. He held my gaze for just a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. And then he lowered his lips to mine again and kissed me once, hard, before backing off and heading into the kitchen.
I took a deep breath, shook my head, trying to center myself. I grabbed my box and followed him. We went through the kitchen cabinets in silence, both of us adding items to our boxes. The plastic shit had all melted with the heat, but some of the older, sturdier stuff, the FireKing and jadeite, had held up all right. We finished grabbing what was salvageable, working mostly in silence, then we carried the boxes to his truck. We walked through my yard, up and down my block, looking for Strife’s mark.
The area immediately around my house was a mess, trampled by the fire fighters who had apparently showed up not long after we’d left. I checked out the closest trees and my garage for Strife’s mark. When I didn’t find anything, I started looking for signs in the other adjoining lots, and Nain went off in the opposite direction.
In the end, I checked every tree between my house and the corner, as well as what was left of the burned out house on the corner, and didn’t come up with anything. I took my time even though I was pretty sure I wouldn’t find anything once I got away from the area immediately surrounding my house. Strife wasn’t subtle. If her people had left a mark, it would have been near what was left of my house.
What the hell had I just done in there? I chided myself. This was Nain, for god’s sake. The man who’d destroyed me. Lied to me. The man I’d sworn was wrong for me in every way once I had some time and distance from him. And now what were we doing? Starting down the same road again with one another. The problem was that I’d already seen the end of that road and I couldn’t go there again.
Stupid. So stupid. He’s bad for me. Not because he’d ever hurt me (unless he felt like it would save me somehow. Bastard.) but because when he’s in my life, all I want is him. There is no halfway, nothing casual about Nain and I when we’re together.
And on top of all of that, Nether was starting to push at my defenses again. “Calm down, bitch,” I muttered, and it only made her start pushing harder, trying to find a weakness, trying to overpower me.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the insane immortal imprisoned inside me, and started walking back toward my house.
Nain was already waiting when I got there, leaning up against the side of his truck watching me.
He opened my door for me, and I climbed in. Then he climbed in his side and slammed the truck door closed behind him. “It had to be her. This shit isn’t random.”
I was grateful he was being professional again. Maybe he was realizing how stupid we’d just been, too.
“She would have left her mark. She likes that, especially here. Taunting me is her thing, right?”
He was silent. “Who else is pissed off at you?”
“Who isn’t?”
I felt a little bit of humor from him. “Try to narrow it down a little.”
“Strife, obviously. More than a few of the immortals. Probably a few I wouldn’t think of.”
“Because you forced them to listen to you,” he said, and I nodded.
“Could just be any of the assholes we typically deal with, except that my mom would have caught up with one of them, I think.”
He nodded. “Had to be an immortal, right? Able to do that thing where they disappear.”
“I think that makes the most sense.”
“Okay. So Strife. Zeus and Hera don’t like you much, you said.”
“Right. Apollo’s not fond of me. Artemis likes me but I don’t know how much Brennan and I breaking up affected her opinion of me.”
“Aphrodite,” he said.
“Right.”
“That’s mostly because of Heph, though.” He was silent a minute “Did anything ever happen between the two of you? That’s part of why she hates you.”
“No. He’s my friend, and he’s not interested in me that way.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes. That’s the last thing on his mind. He’s been fucked over by Aphrodite so much he has zero interest in relationships or anything else. I can relate.”
�
�Meaning?” he said, with a little growl in his voice.
“Meaning you can only take so much bullshit before you realize that none of it is worth it and you’re better off on your own.”
“You sure didn’t feel like you didn’t think it was worth it in your house just now.”
“We’re not talking about us.”
“I agree.” And then he reached over and pulled me close again, and his mouth was on mine, his arms like iron around my body. My hands were in his hair, and I was kissing him back as enthusiastically as he was kissing me.
I am so bad at listening to myself.
He bit at my lips, swept his tongue across my lips, demanding access, and I gave it to him, opening my mouth to him. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I moaned, knowing that he wanted more, so much more. His hands were roaming, and when he cupped one of my breasts in his huge, rough hand, I cried out at the sensation, pushing myself closer to him, needing his touch, and he gave it. He squeezed me, plucked roughly at my nipple, kissed his way down my throat, biting not exactly gently at the delicate skin at the side of my neck, right above my pulse point. Marking me, the way he had in so many of my memories and the dreams I’d had of him since. Claiming me.
He started kissing me again, and I started coming to my senses.
“Stop,” I said, and he groaned, let go of me. He sat back against his seat, head back against the headrest, frustration flowing from him like lava.
“We’re not doing this again,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“Let’s go.”
“We’re already doing it again,” Nain said, looking over at me, meeting my eyes. “Why are you fighting so hard against what we both want?”
“You really need to ask that question? You don’t think how it ended last time is reason enough? Or the fact that I ended up with Brennan, who is like your polar opposite in almost every way? Of the fact that we drive one another nuts?”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me for the way it ended the first time. You know I did it to save you—“
“And to get back at Astaroth. Let’s not pretend your motives were totally benevolent, demon.”
“Fine. Yeah, I wanted Astaroth to meet his end. That was a bonus and I won’t deny being happy he’s gone. But I would have let him live if I thought you’d be okay. I fucking knew him, Molls. Hundreds of years fighting with or against him. Whether he wanted you for himself or someone else didn’t even matter. He wouldn’t have stopped. And no one knew you were immortal. All I kept envisioning was that day I’d come home and you wouldn’t be there because he finally caught up with you.”
Strife: Hidden Book Four Page 14
