“Then I turn it off,” she responds seriously, and I laugh in response because just when I think I’ve heard it all, my little hurricane proves me wrong.
After a while, Vivian attempts to stifle a yawn and fails. Then, with a soft laugh, she says idly, “I should go see the girls this weekend.”
“Are they going to behave?”
She rolls her eyes at me and pokes me in the chest. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
I attempt to remain stern but end up smiling anyway. “Have they asked anything about what went down at the bar?”
“Not a damn word other than to ask if those two douchebags Blake and Sean, were handled with the lack of care they deserved,” she responds with an amused expression and a small shake of her head. “Every time I mentionyou, though, it’s like they’re hearing about it for the first time all over again.”
“Probably for the best. Not like they’d believe any of it was real anyway.”
She snorts rather indelicately. “It’s not like I’m telling them anything crazy like demons and devils and shit,” she pauses, frowning, “Wait a minute. Is it really that far-fetched that I’d have a damn boyfriend?”
“It would appear so,” I respond with a chuckle. “Otherwise, they’d totally remember all the everyday mundane stuff.”
She feigns another glare, then grows silent, her body stilling as she appears to be concentrating. Then she asks, quietly, “Do you ever wonder if any of this is even real?”
Turning my head, I meet her eyes, but then I frown in response to the shadows that have fallen over her features. Rolling onto my side, I slide close, but not so close we’re touching. “What do you mean?”
A crease forms between her brows, and I raise my hand between us, smoothing the line with my thumb cupping her cheek lightly as she whispers, “Us. What we have.”
My heart pounds in my chest, unease rushing over me at her words. I search her gaze briefly, noting the nervousness and shimmer of vulnerability that comes from a life lived in chaos. After a moment, I smile and shake my head. “Never. Not at all. Not even for a moment.”
Vivian relaxes almost instantly, a hiccuping sigh erupting. Her hands grab onto me, yanking me closer, and I go willingly, knowing what she needs.
A life-size weighted blanket.
Her face pressed into my neck, she tucks her hands in, wanting me to wrap myself around her, to use my body to shield her from the memories of the very demons she now lords over in the pits.
A shudder runs through her. I tighten my hold, allowing a bit more of my weight to settle onto her, soaking up every bit of angst and fear emanating from her without comment or criticism.
Because sometimes, even the devil of devils needs a good cry.
I have no idea how long we remain like that, but eventually, she relaxes, and then after some time, her hand pushes into my front. I ease off slowly, giving her time to decide what she wants to reveal to me and what she wants to keep to herself.
When she finally opens her eyes, she smiles rather sheepishly, so I lower my head, kissing her on the tip of her nose. Her arms come around me, squeezing me so tightly my back cracks, and I grumble good-naturedly, pretending to be annoyed.
Releasing me, she murmurs, “We better go.”
We get up slowly, helping each other dress with soft touches and quiet laughter. I pick up my phone, frowning at the multiple notifications on the home screen. I tap on the top one, trepidation rolling over me as I see they’re all from Kaian. Opening his text stream, I curse at the first message, instantly replying,
Kaian: SOS
Zion: What’s up?
Kaian: Something’s wrong with Camilla. Get here.
I call him on speaker phone. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Kaian responds, his tone clipped. “She went out on a job a couple of days ago and she missed her check-in.”
“Is that alarming?”
“Camilla McDonough has never missed a check-in.”
“Fuck.”
