This time, when Lynx looks me up and down, it’s with disgust. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothes. Why? How do I look?” I meant to lace my voice with sarcasm and saywhat does it look like? But my earlier self-consciousness is lingering, and I regret ever speaking to him.
“Like shit.”
My stomach falls, and for a moment, I tell myself that he’s right, and where did I get off thinking I could look anything other than terrible?
Then a switch goes off, and I stop caring. It’s been a long time since I worried about what people think of my appearance. That’s not going to change just because I’m dead.
I shrug, throw my shawl onto his shoulder, shimmy my dress down, and readjust my boobs so it sits just right even though no one else can see, and my dead being is reacting to the cold by pushing my nipples against the thin fabric.
Lynx has another thing coming if he believes I’m going to let him make me feel bad about myself.
The vein in his forehead pulses as I give him the finger then spin round to follow the humans into the living room. Frustration teeters down my spine when I walk straight through a human—and another practically shoulder checks me. I’mthisclose to a second breakdown.
Because I lied.
I do care.
I care that I’m dead and I’m the same inconsequential person as the girl who was stupid enough to come back here.
My muscles strain as I refocus on taking form and shoulder the next person I pass. Watching them stumble only makes me feel momentarily better. The same applies to the next person, and the one after that, and nothing really improves until I get lost in the tantrum, throwing things, causing a mess, and making the humans as pissed off about their situation as I am with mine.
I bob my head to the music, letting my body move in time with the beat and the switches in melody until wreaking havoc becomes a dance. I roll to the sound, snake through the crowd, spinning and turning and shoving like everyone is in on this routine.
All the while, that same burning heat of eyes on me follows me from room to room. I learned my lesson this time. I don’t dare approach him. I keep moving, emboldened out of sheer spite, exaggerating each sway of my hips.
The demon can talk shit all he wants; he can’t ignore that I get him hard. It might not be my choice, but the fact still stands. And one glance at the muscle twitching in his cheek, the hard set of his jaw, and the tenting in his pants tells me that fact hasn’t changed.
I pretend not to notice the pain in his eyes, but I’m holding on to it like it’s a living, breathing thing tethering me to reality. It fuels me and turns me into the pest I was always meant to be while Lynx sulks in the corner, looking like someone just cursed his entire bloodline.
Out the corner of my eye, I notice a man beelining toward the demon, and my stomach drops. It’s Mitchell. What… what is he doing here? I haven’t seen him inyears. High school graduation probably?
We dated for a bit. It wasn’t that serious—at least, it wasn’t for me. He was too big of a sweetheart, and I couldn’t make him spend the rest of his life with someone who has as much baggage as I do. We were only fourteen, so it didn’t really matter.
Mitchell reached out after everything went down with my parents, and again when Ella started getting sicker, offering to help out or support me in whatever way he could. But I thought he moved across the country. What is he doing here?
My chest squeezes as I watch him approach the demon, brows drawn in concern for the murderer.
Then panic sets in.
Lynx will eat Mitchell for breakfast and still have room for dessert.
I rush up to them, prepared to throat punch the demon if necessary. Over my dead body am I letting someone as innocent as my ex get dragged into this shit with Satan Jr.
The asshole’s stare cuts from me to the human, and I swear the temperature plummets when I catch Mitchell ask, “You alright there, man?”
Lynx’s deadly gaze slides to mine, and it’s as if he can see every memory I’ve had with Mitchell. Every gross juvenile kiss, touch, smile.
There’s something between me and my demon, that much is clear, but neither of us will admit it. Right now sure as shit isn’t the time to.
His jaw tenses.
My breath halts in my chest.
I can see the spark of jealousy in his eyes, and I think I… like it.
Then I watch with utter horror as Lynx lunges forward and wraps his hands around Mitchell’s throat. I scream, diving forward to shove Lynx back, becoming a shitty barrier between the two men.
