Chapter 7 #2
I wasn’t safe with Mason in any sense of the word.
Mila stared at me a moment longer before finally relenting, though the worried crease between her brows didn’t smooth, even as she picked her phone back up to check our food delivery progress.
I hated making her worry, hated dumping my shit on her when she was dealing with enough as it was.
Hated the lying, the pretending, all of it.
“Please don’t hate me,” I said quietly.
“Oh, my God! I could never hate you. Fucking ever. Even if you concealed a whole ass husband from me, I don’t think I’d ever find it in me to hate you for it. You’re in it for life with me, got it? I can’t survive without you, Kota.”
My heart squeezed, warmth spreading through the ice over my chest. Somehow, I’d never considered myself as a person that Mila might need. I needed her, couldn’t survive without her, but somehow, I never really considered she might feel the same way about me.
I didn’t consider myself as a thing that impacted other people’s lives, as a thing people thought of outside of my presence. I thought of myself as the background. Not a whole person.
Mila didn’t think of me like that, though.
“I can’t survive without you either.”
She leaned over to hug me on her knees, but lost balance due to the give of her mattress and we ended up in a pile on the fuzzy blanket, smiling and laughing. I had to wipe my eyes with my sleeves so I wouldn’t cry.
“Let’s go bother Vanya and Katya until Brian shows up.” Mila took my hand as she slid off her bed.
“Who the fuck is Brian?” I questioned, trailing behind her.
“Our delivery driver.”
“Oh.”
We went out to the living room, stealing half the space on the couch—much to Ivan’s dismay.
Mila was undeterred, obviously. I was more envious of their relationship than I wanted to admit.
They were cousins, but as close as siblings—without all the things my own sibling had tainted our relationship with, of course.
I tried not to compare, but it was difficult sometimes.
I often wondered how my relationship with Anthony would’ve panned out had he never turned into my real-life nightmare. Would we be like Mila and Ivan?
Eventually, Brian arrived at the door—after a few confused text exchanges with Mila about directions around her apartment complex—and we ate our food at the kitchen table.
Me
Are you actually going to pick me up? I would prefer to sleep over with my friend
Mason
It’s either my place or Micah’s until Aamon is dead
Me
How long until you kill him?
I was already feeling suffocated by the whole demon situation. I understood the danger, and it did scare me, but things weren’t good in any of my relationships right now, and I wished I could sleep in my own bed—or Mila’s. Some place where I didn’t feel on edge, a place where I could breathe.
But in the back of my head, I silently wished for the suffocation.
Mason
It’ll be soon. I’m leaving my apartment now to get you
Me
Don’t come to the door. Just text me when you’re here and I’ll come out. Okay?
Mason didn’t reply to my next text, so I set my phone down flat and propped my chin on my hands, elbows braced on the table.
Mila grabbed two ice pops from her freezer, then offered me the one that looked darker through the white plastic packaging—the grape one.
She kept orange for herself, thankfully.
“Am I going to meet your possessive man when he arrives?” Mila questioned, licking the frosty crystals off her ice pop.
“I don’t think so. I told him to wait for me to come out.” I sucked the grape ice into my mouth. How many artificially-flavored frozen treats was too many for one day? Whatever.
“Why would you tell him that?” Mila adjusted how she was sitting, bending her knees up, putting her feet on her chair, shins pressed to the edge of the table. She slurped up some sticky orange juice before it dripped onto her hand. “I want to see him.”
“I don’t know. It just feels better if you don’t.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” She glanced at my phone.
“I have one,” I admitted, my stomach flipping and a blush creeping up my neck. It was random—just a picture I’d taken of him to put as his contact photo—but any picture of Mason would be capable of giving me butterflies. Murderous, toxic butterflies.
“Show me. Now,” Mila demanded.
I took a breath as I picked up my phone and clicked on his contact, then pressed on the photo.
He was shirtless in his bed, laying with a hand behind his head on the pillow, looking at the camera.
I could envision myself kneeling on the mattress, in his t-shirt, taking the stupid photo while his cum dripped out of me.
I shoved my phone across the table to Mila. She immediately snatched it off the surface, eyes widening as she took in the glory that was Mason Ashborn.
“Is this edited?”
“No.”
She stared up at me. “Then you took this from Pinterest. Surely. There’s no way you’re fucking a man that hot and you’ve neglected to tell me—or show me.”
“I’m not sure what to say.” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. Showing Mila a picture of Mason was perhaps the most normal relationship thing I’d ever done with him, and he wasn’t even here. Relationship? I cleared my throat, then tried to reach for my phone. “Give it back.”
“No. I’m zooming in.”
She held the phone closer to her face and I leaned forward, resting my head on my arms folded on the table, eyes slipping shut.
“Do you have a sex tape I can watch or something?”
“Mila!” I shot up to sitting, grabbing the phone from her hands, laughing. “Stop it.”
She held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m curious. Sue me. Now, do you have any other secret boyfriends you’re hiding from me, or is he the only one?”
I hesitated, unsure what to say. I didn’t know enough about Micah’s aspect to know what made people forget him, or how long it would take for that to happen. Either way, I’d never taken a contact photo for him, so…
“No. Just the one.”
“You better not be lying,” she warned jokingly. If only she knew.
My phone buzzed with a notification on the table between us once we’d finished our ice pops—Mila tried to grab it, but I was quicker, holding it close to my chest.
“Is he here?”
“No,” I lied, then hopped up and ran to her bedroom, snatching my bag off the floor.
Mila was quick on my heels, sliding on the wood in her socks and slamming into the back of me as I bent over to put my boots on. I lost my balance and tipped forward, phone flying out of my hands and skidding across the floor.
“Mila!” I screamed.
“Kota!” She crawled to my phone and grabbed it, eyes wide as the screen illuminated her face. “You’re a liar. He is here. Can I please meet your manipulator man? I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be around.” Mila pouted, which made me laugh.
“You’re actually the most annoying person on the face of the planet.”
“I know. And I know he’s like an asshole for real, so it’s fine if you genuinely don’t want me to meet him. I can let you have this part of your life separate from me if you need,” she sighed. “Also your location is shared with me now.”
“It’s fine. You can see him. No conversing, though.”
“Got it.” Mila nodded and gave me two thumbs up.
I finished zipping up my boots, then grabbed all my shit off the floor.
Mila stuffed her feet into some sneakers and left the apartment with me after promising Ivan she would only be gone for a minute.
My stomach was twisting with nerves—maybe a little excitement, too—but mostly nerves. Yeah, Mason was hot.
But he also liked to hurt me.
I didn’t want Mila to know that.