I run my hands through my hair and drop my elbows to my knees.
Tony still hasn’t returned to tell me what’s wrong, but I can feel something isn’t right. I don’t know if it’s paranoia or not—I can’t help needing to be near her. Just in case. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
It’s stupid. I don’t want to be here. It’s against my nature to give a shit about a dead human girl whose soul is trapped in a house. No one but another demon can hurt her. She’s already dead. Because I murdered her without thinking twice.
If a Tor’Oth does come, will they even sense Sable? It would come for me, undoubtedly, then she’d have all the time in the world to fuck around with the guys who come to party and walk freely around the manor without worrying about crossing paths with me.
She’d like that. To be free of me.
I grit my teeth and screw my eyes shut.
Not that I care. Whatever fate comes for Sable has nothing to do with me. In my case, the worst thing that can happen is that a Tor’Oth finds me and drags me all the way back down to Hell to suffer some more.
If I leave here, what happens to her? Will she be trapped here all alone? Forever?
“Lynx?”
My eyes snap open, and I glance up at Sable.
There’s a long, silent, awkward pause where we just stare at each other. Her eyes are puffy with sleep, and her hair isa tousled, freshly fucked–looking mess. Slowly, her brows are knitting together, and the duvet slips down to her waist to show off her sleep clothes, her hard nipples pressing through the material.
She’s annoyingly beautiful.
None of this is real. It’s this goddamn house that has us like this. Fucking feral for each other even though I’m her murderer and she’s stuck here because of me.
Why, in any world, would she actually want me? It was stupid to think the girl I robbed of life would even want me anywhere in her general vicinity.
“Why are you so pale?” she asks.
My anxiety is messing with me. I’m not pale. I’m ill because I don’t understand how I feel right now.
I swallow, straightening in the chair and crossing my ankle over my knee, playing it off as indifferent, like my heart isn’t about to crash through my chest and smack her in the face.
“Humor me, dead girl, but why is it you sleep so much despite simply being a lost soul within these walls?”
Dare I say it, she usually sleeps like the dead. Normally, she doesn’t wake up at all when I pay her a visit.
Thankfully, the blissful look in her eyes vanishes. “I don’t know. Did you happen to research the afterlife before you snapped my neck?”
“No. I have no time for something so pointless.”
Sable huffs, glaring daggers at me. “Why are you in my room?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the headboard, her cleavage drawing my attention, and by the Devil do I almost gulp.
My knuckles turn white. “Do you want the truth or non-truth?”
“Are you capable of telling the truth?” Shit, my dick twitches at her snappy tone. “Or are you just good for killing people and being a royal pain in my goddamn ass?”
“I’m good at a lot of things. One being making you scream my name before falling through a window and perishing.” I tilt my head. “You aren’t still embarrassed by that, are you? Because you should be.”
“Cunt,” she mutters under her breath then throws the duvet off so she can slide her legs off the edge of the bed.
Her bare skin catches my attention.
It’s not real, I tell myself.
Sable is glaring at me, and a part of me wants to get up and walk out of here, to never look her in the eyes again, but another part of me—one I think is winning me over—wants something else.
Those naked thighs—her sleep shorts barely covering what lies between them—clench together when I continue to stare at her, and she averts her gaze, goose pimples taking over her skin. “If you’re here just to be an asshole, then with all due disrespect, fuck off.”
