Page 45 of Gravehouse

His fingers weave through the back of my hair and he uses his grip to pull me in closer.

“I get the family shit, Venom, but we have a score to settle.” He squeezes tighter. “Two days and then we come back.”

I know I should let this go and be happy with the answer he’s given, but Camille pops up in my head as a reminder that yes, we do have a score to settle, but we also have another thing in common.

Pride.

“As what?” I whisper, not even sure what it is that I’m asking.

He releases his hold and air floods my lungs. Every step he takes proves why I’m screwed, why at the end, none of this will matter.

“As your brother’s plaything?” I scoff. “I think the fuck not.”

Movements stop as his eyes snap to mine. I don’t care if I’ve pissed him off. Hell, I don’t care if he puts a bullet in me right now. I care whether or not I’m going to have to explain to him at a later date that I killed his ex because I can’t stand seeing him with her.

I lift a single brow. “You want me to fuck Atlas so you don’t have to feel bad about Camille, is that it? Or what? Is this part of the twin sharing thing that I’ve been missing out on?”

His eye twitches.

I continue. “Or maybe I should take him up on that offer…” I gaze off into a distant play-by-play of a made-up fantasy. “I wonder if he’s as good with his tongue as you were?”

My eyes burn when I don’t blink, afraid I’ll miss even a drop of Asher’s humanity.

He leans back in his chair instead, unbothered. “Are you done? Because I’ve got shit to do.”

I’ve cared too much these past couple of days. Years of training myself into a machine, and I still don’t know who I really am underneath. Am I really this destructive when it comes to people I love? I haven’t with Jord, or Punk.

Asher is my damn fucking kryptonite.

With as muchzero fucks givenattitude as I can muster, I walk back through the way I came, landing into a hard chest waiting outside the door.

Atlas looks between me and the asshole behind me. “What happened?”

My chest splits open, allowing a heavy drop of sadness in. “Nothing.”

“Ivy!” Asher calls, and I stop. “Tell Sinead they need to pack.”

CHAPTER

TEN

IVY

Thirty thousand feet above nothing,and if I fell from it right now it still wouldn’t match the constant spiral in my belly every time my eyes catch Asher.

Even now, asleep with his hood pulled low enough to hide his face, he’s got my organs on free-fall.

Stupid. Contaminated.

His breathing is in sync with mine. It used to be comforting to fall asleep on his chest, but now all I can think of is the bullet I put there.

I scroll my phone, switching between playlists I’ll never actually open, thumb hovering over one titled “For When You Fuck Everything Up.”

Seems appropriate.

Outside the window, clouds spread flat. We’re somewhere over the Atlantic, heading toward Désamour, toward Nonna, and my stomach knots over how he’s going to behave.

Will she get the Asher who took care of me, or the one who looks through me like I’m not even there?