Page 54 of Ruined By a Devil

“He sent it to get under your skin, this is exactly what he wants,” Riley says, looking around the table at all of us. “Nolan knows how much Malachi’s captivity hurt this family. He knows how much it hurt you, Ezekiel. He wants you angry and I’m willing to bet that he’s hoping you’ll make a stupid, blind move because you're reacting with your heart instead of your brain.”

“Riles is right,” Elijah agrees, his voice dropping into a serious, low tone. “Nolan is desperate, even more so with the wedding being so close. He's poking the bear to make us sloppy.”

“I took care of the courier,” I say, my voice steady, forcing myself to look at it as if it’s just any other case we’re trying to solve. “It was an anonymous drop. The poor kid knew nothing.”

“Nolan just wanted you to open the box,” Cain says, his knife scrapping hard against the plate. “And get a reaction, which he clearly did judging by the way you two look right now.”

I know he’s right and even though a part of me wishes to say it’s not true, that Cain is exaggerating, the words don’t seem to leave my mouth. Zeke leans back in his chair, his hands clasped tightly together over his plate. He looks across the table at me, his eyes dark with that familiar, unhealed guilt.

“He's going to pay for every second you were in that room, Mal,” he says, his voice a mirror of my own feelings. “I don't care how long it takes, I will skin him alive.”

I don't answer him. Under the table, I feel Jade’s hand slide back onto my knee, her fingers pressing firm and warm against my leg, anchoring me to the present, reminding me of the quiet strength she gave me on the mats last night.

I take a slow breath, letting her heat burn through the cold anger in my veins.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jade

The drive back from Zeke and Riley’s house is suffocatingly quiet.

Rain starts to pour halfway through the drive, and for some reason I find the blurred streaks across the windshield fascinating. It’s not like there is anything else to distract my mind with.

Malachi’s hands rest loosely on the leather of the steering wheel at ten and two, his knuckles pale, and his jaw tense.

He hasn't spoken a word since we pulled out of his brother’s driveway. But the air between us in the leather interior of the Mercedes is charged with the lingering remains of what Zeke said at the dinner table.

He's never brought a woman into our family space before.

The words keep looping in my head, burning under my skin like an itch I can’t quite scratch and not for the lack of trying. I lean my head back against the leather headrest, watching his profile, completely losing interest in the raindrops. I watch as the dark fabric of his suit jacket stretches tight across his broad shoulders with every slight movement of his arms. The faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne mixes with the rain, and the raw heat of his skin fills the small space between us, turning my heartbeat into an irregular rhythm.

When he finally pulls the car into the underground garage of the house, the silence becomes deafening. Things have been happening at a speed that’s making it difficult for me to keep up with. I feel like before I get a chance to fully process one thing, another one happens, turning my thoughts into a chaotic mess.

Neither of us moves and I continue watching his every move, not caring if he might find it weird. At this point, not much of what either of us does would come off as weird.

Malachi unbuckles his seatbelt, but he doesn't open his door. Instead, he rests his left forearm on the top of the steering wheel, his pale eyes shifting sideways to meet mine in the dim light.

“You've been quiet,” he says. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. The good kind of shivers.

I let my eyes trace the sharp curve of his jaw down to the top button of his shirt, slightly undone now, revealing the skin at the base of his throat.

“I'm just thinking,” I say, trying to sound completely unbothered.

“That’s a dangerous habit,” he raises one eyebrow. “What have you been thinking about, Jade?”

“Your brothers,” I say, shifting in my seat to face him. My skirt hitches up an inch over my thighs, the fabric making a noise against the leather. “They seem to think I’m some kind of rare trophy. Ezekiel seemed pretty convinced you've been living like a monk.”

Malachi just stares at me without blinking, his gaze dropping to the exposed skin of my knees before rising back to my eyes, painfully slow.

“Zeke likes to talk a little more than he should,” Malachi murmurs.

“Was it a lie?” I press, leaning a fraction closer, letting the dark atmosphere of the garage wrap around us. “Have you brought women to the house before?”

Malachi shifts his weight, turning his frame toward me, making the space between us suddenly shrink until his shoulder is only inches from mine. The heat radiating off his body hits me like an open flame, and I feel the already familiar ache.

He reaches out, his long fingers trailing up the leather of the center console, stopping just shy of my knee. He doesn't touch me, but the warmth of his hand hovers over my bare skin, close enough to set my nerves on fire.

“There have been women,” he says, his pale eyes darkening as they lock onto mine. “They stayed long enough for what we needed. None of them stayed long enough to need their own coffee.”