29. Artemis
29 ARTEMIS
Reese, Saint, and I arrive back at my condo, and I’m struck by how weird it is.
I know I’ve said that before, but it bears repeating.
Saint and Reese don’t really hate each other, although they argue.
And Saint hasn’t tried to get me to kick Reese out…
It’s probably just because Reese came to our rescue and saved us.
And Saint saved me.
Who have I saved, lately?
A big, fat no one .
But I’m not going to dwell on that.
I saved my brother and Wolfe plenty of times, and then the vigilante shit kind of dissipated as we moved out of the gang war and into peacetime.
This is peace, isn’t it?
The gang leaders were dispatched— a nice way to say killed —and Jace, Wolfe, and Apollo reestablished themselves as in charge.
The Hell Hounds got Malik, who plays nice with my brother and his friends.
Well… it was peace.
Now, I’m not so sure.
I have been so caught up in my own shit, I haven’t stopped to actually feel the vibe of the city.
Even Bow & Arrow is usually a good barometer for what’s happening, and I’ve been absent from there.
Removed from everything.
I’ve been off. I’ve said it for weeks, maybe months now.
Saint to Reese are both just…
existing. They take off their shoes, put their masks away.
Reese grabs a frozen bag of veggies and presses it to his face.
“Did you tell them about the Cyclopes?” I ask Saint, setting my mask back in its box on the counter.
To be worn another day.
“When I was talking to Kora?”
He frowns.
“No. I thought you were going to.”
“I—”
Reese glances between us.
“So, the so-called rulers of the Sterling Falls underground world don’t know about the gang that’s moved into West Falls?”
“That’s what it sounds like,” I admit.
“My brother hasn’t mentioned anything.”
“Then it’s up to us,” Reese declares.
“Up to us to what?” Saint counters.
“Kill them all? Negotiate for our city back?”
Reese doesn’t reply, which typically means the worse of the two options.
And that would definitely be kill them all .
I plant my hands on my hips.
“We are not going out and murdering people.”
“I didn’t say that,” Reese counters.
Saint grumbles something under his breath and heads for his room.
I stare at Reese. “Who needs help in Emerald Cove?”
“An old friend.” He gives me a weird little smile.
It seems a bit sad. “They’ve been stuck for a while, but maybe your brother and his friends can help.”
Uh-huh.
“Most people ask for favors for themselves,” I tease.
“And you go and ask for an old friend? You had it all written up just in case?”
He shakes his head and approaches me.
I force myself to hold still.
The instinct is still to step away, to avoid his space.
But he doesn’t have any trouble stepping right into mine.
“One of the other fighters mentioned it when we were waiting.” He raises his hand like he wants to touch my face, but he drops it just as fast.
No .
God, I’m so starved for touch, I want him to touch me.
The ache is right there, thrumming under my skin.
I grab his wrist before he can withdraw further, and I put his hand on the side of my neck.
My heart is going to burst out of my chest, but I can’t stop it.
I just—I want contact.
Not the hateful kind, like what Saint offers.
If I wanted something quick and dirty and mentally destructive, I know exactly who to go to.
But right now, I just want to burn hot…
without the degradation.
His gaze intensifies, and his tongue sweeps out, wetting his lower lip.
I damn near groan.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Artemis?”
I like how he says my name.
I shouldn’t, but I do.
I also like that he asks.
It means he’s not the same.
It means he’s changed for the better, and my heart skips.
Slowly, I nod.
His thumb sweeps across my jaw, and he slides his fingers into my hair.
The touch sends tingles down the back of my neck and raises goosebumps along my arms. I find myself leaning in, rising on my toes.
When his lips brush mine, my eyes flutter closed.
I don’t think I’ve ever really been kissed.
Isn’t that sad?
My mind flips back, trying to pinpoint a kiss , but none come up.
None in Terror—I did everything I could to avoid it, and the guys didn’t really care if I twisted away from their mouth.
As long as my mouth did other things…
And then after, when I learned how to get over this sexual trauma, it was never about the kiss.
But now he’s kissing me, his lips moving softly against mine, and my brain is finally quiet.
He breaks away and looks down at me, gauging my dazed expression.
and then kisses me again.
Harder. The pressure builds up, our lips dance together in a way I instinctively know.
His tongue drags across the seam of my mouth, and I open.
His tongue is another level.
I hold on to his forearms, trying to ground myself.
Otherwise this sensation flooding through me might make me float away.
“What the fuck?”
Saint may as well have dumped ice water over our heads.
I leap back, hitting my hip on the counter.
My hair falls through Reese’s fingers, although his hand remains outstretched.
My grip on his forearms loosens until my arms drop.
We were right there .
Our bodies a hair’s breadth away.
It was just our lips and hands, and the moment is seared into my brain.
No matter what Saint says next.
I touch my lips.
He storms up and shoves Reese.
I barely register that Saint has given me his back, that he’s put himself between us.
I don’t know why he’s doing that.
“Stop.” My voice is weak.
“Saint, stop.”
He just keeps shoving, until Reese is back against the windows and Saint has him pinned by the throat.
“Please stop.” The counter ends up saving me from hitting the floor.
I touch my lips again, half in shock and…
I want more. “He asked.” Louder.
“He asked if I wanted it, Saint. I?—”
“You were afraid of him,” Saint accuses.
“And now you kiss him?”
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore.
My fight-or-flight instinct seems to be wired to flight these days, because before I know it, I’m in motion.
Grabbing the keys to Reese’s truck, my phone, my small bag.
I didn’t even get a chance to take off my shoes, and small miracles for that.
I bolt. It’s late—I should be at Bow & Arrow anyway.
When I get into Reese’s truck, I don’t pause to find out if someone has followed me.
Reese or Saint.
Are they fighting?
Or laughing? Or…
I put the truck in gear and get the fuck out of the garage.
The drive to Bow & Arrow is as easy as breathing, and I arrive in the blink of an eye.
No thought required.
I park in the back and hop out, locking it.
Once I’m in the stairwell, I pause.
Instead of going up to my office, I go down.
Down to the old, blocked-off hallways with desecrated rooms. Where nightmares still linger and memories threaten to assault me.
Where the past is very much still alive.
I go to Terror to visit old ghosts.
There’s something wrong with me, and I need to fix it before it’s too late.