Chapter 77
“If you don’t fight, you die.”
—RICK GRIMES, THE WALKING DEAD
I woke up to find Ramel curled protectively around me. His breath gently stirred the tiny hairs on my skin, making me shiver. I cuddled closer into him and tilted my head up, kissing him on the underside of his jaw, enjoying the way his stubble scraped against my lips.
The dark cloud that had descended upon me the day before when I had learned the news about Mike was still there, but there was a sharper edge to it now. The vision Yahweh sent me in my dreams had been meant to terrorize me. I knew it was a vision and not a nightmare. He’d been trying to scare me, and it had worked.
However, lying in the warm, safe cocoon of my demon lover’s arms, the cold sting of fear sharpened into something a little more deadly.
Anger.
I was angry, I realized with a start. Who the fuck was Yahweh to enter my subconscious like that? Who the fuck was He to threaten me? I glanced over at a sleeping Ramel; the gashes across his chest had scabbed over, but they were still red and irritated. They had disturbed the beauty of his tattoos, severing skulls and snakes with ugly, jagged lines. I gently traced one of the wounds with my finger, regret blooming in my core .
Ramel had asked me to put the blame on him, but with the shadow of Yahweh’s threat still haunting me, I couldn’t help but feel Ramel had been just as much of a victim as I had been.
I certainly had suffered more, but the way Ramel looked at me last night told me that what he said was true. He loved me, and Yahweh had intentionally pitted him against me with the sick goal of forcing him to be the one to hurt me.
I could tell Ramel regretted it. Despite the fact that he was a demon and tormenting humans was in his nature, I believed that there was a difference between tormenting me for pleasure and torturing me to the point of breaking.
Ramel would have never tried to break me if he had access to his memories. I think even without his memories, on some level, he had always just toed the line of completely destroying me. Sometimes, he crossed it, but whenever that happened, he always seemed to pull back. I remember how every time I tried to kill myself, he would stalk me openly and relentlessly for weeks after as if he wanted to make sure I didn’t try to do it again.
The amount of guilt he must be harboring right now; another hot lick of anger flickered in my chest.
Yahweh would pay for this.
Ramel’s arms tightened around my waist, and a sleepy “Morning, deathtrap” escaped his lips.
“Morning.” I looked up at him, and he caught my mouth in his, giving me a deep, slow kiss. I let out a soft moan and melted into him, reveling in the way my skin buzzed with electricity at each point of contact.
“How did you sleep for the rest of the night?” he asked, finally pulling away. He studied my face carefully as if looking for signs of distress.
“Good.” I gave him a reassuring smile.
“I don’t need to fuck any more nightmares out of you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I laughed, shaking my head.
“No. You’re the only nightmare for me,” I promised, kissing him on the tip of his nose. He looked so happy for a moment, my heart broke. The second he realized I had noticed it, he quickly wiped it away, resuming his usual aloof, yet slightly amused expression.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, glancing down at my bandages. They needed to be changed as some blood had managed to leak through in the night.
“Good.” I bit my lip, sitting up. His gaze roamed hungrily down my naked body, but he let me pull away. I felt my lip twitch.
Progress.
“I want you to teach me how to use the blade today,” I demanded, and his face immediately darkened. He got out of bed, pulling on his discarded sweatpants as he stood.
“Sorry, deathtrap, but you’ve officially lost all knife privileges for the foreseeable future.” He snatched up his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and put a butt to his lips. I wrinkled my nose at him.
“Don’t you dare smoke that in here,” I snapped, and he looked over at me, raising an amused eyebrow. The cigarette dangled from his lips, and a strand of dark hair had fallen into his hazel eyes. I couldn’t help but appreciate how cut he was. His lean torso was corded with muscle, and I had the urge to run my tongue down the lines of his abs. He swept the unlit butt out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. Suddenly, he was prowling across the bed toward me. I jumped as he wrapped his tattooed hand around my jaw, that saccharine smirk playing across his lips.
“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you have free reign to run this perfect little mouth, deathtrap.” He licked a hot line over my lips to punctuate his words. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’ve gone soft. I won’t hesitate to chain you the fuck up and remind you who’s in charge.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Believe me. I’m well the fuck aware.” I grinned at him, and his eyes flashed with amusement.
“I see,” he purred, and I shivered. “It would seem my little deathtrap has become fond of her chains.”
“So what if I am?” I asked, and he chuckled.
“It just means things are about to get a hell of a lot more interesting,” he hummed, leaning in closer. A shot of adrenaline shot to my core just as the door opened, and Shem blew into the room. We both tensed, and Ramel growled in frustration, turning to face the cat demon. He pulled the cigarette from his ear and put it back between his lips, though I noticed with satisfaction that he didn’t light it.
“I need to talk to you,” Shem said abruptly, and I frowned. Ramel glanced back at me, his own brow furrowing in concern.
“What’s going on?” I asked, but Shem just grinned at me.
“Nothing, sweetheart. I just need to update Ramel on some things for the feast. Super top-secret birthday stuff.” He winked at me, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“It seems a hell of a lot more urgent than just birthday stuff, ” I grumbled. Shem just laughed and brushed me off.
“Nothing you need to worry about. Ram? Outside.”
Ramel glanced back at me, all the amusement gone from his face.
“Stay here,” he ordered, getting up to follow Shem into the hallway.
I sighed, annoyed that they were keeping me in the dark about whatever was going on. I knew them well enough now to know when they were lying. Shem definitely wasn’t talking to Ramel about birthday shit. It had something to do with our plan to take out Yahweh, which was bullshit. The whole thing had been my idea. I should be involved in the conversation .
Scowling, I hopped out of bed and made my way to the wardrobe, pulling on a pair of leather pants and a black, long-sleeved crop top. I was too angry to sit back and let them fight against Yahweh without me. I deserved my revenge just as much as they did. I took a deep breath and built my resolve before following them into the hall; consequences be damned.