43. Summer
Chapter Forty-Three
Summer
“ I ’m sorry for that day.”
The words swirl around me. I have been desperate to hear them, and now they seem to be trying to embed themselves beneath my skin, but he can’t mean them.
He wanted this. He told me I would never be Summer Morningstar.
It has to be another trick of his, yet?.
.?. why does a tiny part of me believe him when he says he would never have wished this on me?
Is it just that I want to believe him? Do I want to forgive him?
I shake my head. I need to get home. It’s been almost twelve hours since I left, and Alice will be freaking out.
Thoughts of the stranger and all that happened from the moment we stepped through that portal yesterday fill my mind the whole walk home.
I try to make sense of all I felt, all we did, and all he said, but I am struggling to fit it into my reality.
I am no closer to having any of it figured out when I reach the house, and a part of me is relieved when a small body collides with mine the second I step onto the porch.
The smell of copper and freesias surround me, displacing all the confusion, fear, and questions.
It is the scent of love, of loyalty, of safety.
Alice. I wrap my arms around her and relax.
She pulls back and glares at me, her expression furious. “Where the fuck were you?” she snarls, but the panic in her voice softens the anger. I open my mouth to reply, but she is not done yelling at me. “No note or anything. You promised me, Summer. Do you know how worried I’ve been? ”
“I—”
“You promised,” she says again, but this time her voice is much softer and filled with hurt.
I nod, the guilt seeping in. “I know. It was out of my control.”
She glares, but I can see the panic melting away the longer she’s in my presence. “Swear?”
“I swear.”
Alice exhales heavily. “Okay.” Her nose wrinkles. “You smell awful.”
I nod, knowing that I definitely smell like brimstone. “I got brimstone. A lot of it.”
Alice’s nose twitches again. “Explains the smell.” She frowns. “You were safe, though?”
I have no idea how to answer that question. Am I ever safe with the stranger? My gut says yes, but my head says absolutely fucking not. At least I’m safe from others when I am with him, and he did keep me safe in Hell, so I just nod.
Alice gives me a reproachful look. “I forgive you, then.”
“Is Rafe okay?”
“Yeah. He mainly slept.”
“Okay. That is good. I should go shower this smell off.”
Alice grabs my hand and leads me inside, but we both stumble to a stop when a large crash from upstairs rattles the windows. We stare at the ceiling for a long moment, and then I sigh. “I’ll go check on him.”
“I’ll make breakfast,” Alice says, heading for the kitchen.
As I reach the landing, there is the muffled sound of Rafe cursing, and then another much quieter crash. I peek my head into his room and blink when I find him on the floor, trying to do what looks like an extremely labored push-up.
He looks up at me, his dark eyes searching my face. “You’re back.”
I nod. “About five minutes ago.”
He shifts to sit back on his knees and sniffs. “You smell?.?.?. odd.”
I roll my eyes. “Charming. I’m going to go shower, so try not to injure yourself in the next ten minutes.”
I turn to leave, but Rafe grabs my wrist. How did he get across the room? He moved so fast. Is this another new ability? “Wait. I know that scent.”
I tense, not looking at him, knowing I’m about to get an earful.
“Summer.” He waits until I finally glance at him over my shoulder. His hand is still wrapped around my wrist, and demon black is flooding his eyes. “Where were you?” he asks, the question more of an accusation.
“I was . . . somewhere.”
Rafe brings my arm to his nose and sniffs again, inky black spilling into the whites of his eyes, warning me that the demon is close to the surface. “Tell me where you were, Summer.”
I keep my gaze locked on his, and he steps closer, his movements fluid and predatory. “I had to, Rafe.”
He towers over me, staring down at me. “No, you did not.” He shakes his head. “Say it, or I won’t believe you.”
I look away. “Rafe . . .”
“Say it,” he growls, and the sound is more demonic than any I’ve heard from him before.
I swallow. “I went to Hell.”
There is a long moment of silence before Rafe finally breaks it. “Are you fucking kidding?” he snarls. “Why would you do that? Are you insane?”
I bristle defensively, staring him down. “No, I’m not insane.”
“What if Uncle Lu caught you? Or another demon?” It once again takes me by surprise that he calls the King of Hell something so?.?.?. ordinary. He is Lucifer, the King of Hell, the Prince of Lies, and a million other monikers. But he is never Uncle Lu .
“I took precautions.”
“You still went,” he snarls loudly, and the malevolence of it pushes me back a step.
I stare at him, my anger rising to match his. “Don’t you talk to me like that, Rafael,” I say it softly and calmly, but there is a threat laced through my tone.
His eyes are completely black now. “You risked your life for something stupid. I am allowed to yell at you about this,” he says, his voice still loud but not as loud.
“Something stupid?” I ask, glaring at him. “I risked my life to get you something you desperately need .”
Rafe snaps his fangs. “I could have taken care of it.”
“You can barely do a push-up,” I scoff. “You need brimstone now.”
He snarls again, and I snarl back. I know that was a low blow, but he’s being such a moron at the moment that I don’t care .
“Do not make decisions for me,” he commands, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Do not admonish me for loving you and getting you what you need.”
“You don’t get to decide what I need.” Anger radiates from him.
“Back off.”
“If I’d gone to Hell without asking? To get something you need?” he hurls at me.
“It’s completely different.”
“How?” he demands. “Because it’s you?”
I flinch. There is something within his words that slices into a barely scabbed-over wound. A deeper meaning. He’s not said what he wanted to, but has made me bleed anyway.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, needing to hear the words.
He meets my gaze again, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in a deep frown. “You know what it means.”
“Say it.”
Rafe hesitates for a moment before he lifts his chin a little. “I’m not Connor.”
My body feels the words coming, striking me before they’ve even been spoken. My defenses scream for me to tell him to stop, but the part of me that knows he’s right is desperate for the pain of them.
“I’m not going to just let you do things for me without permission. I won’t let you walk over me.”
Ouch . . .
Rafe watches me for a long, torturous moment before he turns and goes into his bathroom, slamming the door behind him.