Page 100 of An Oath at Midnight

“Put that on your hand first,” he said, watching me.

“I will, I just need to—”

“No. You first,” he said. “Now. I would, but…”

But right then, I’d pull away if he even tried. I quickly did as he asked, smearing some over the angry new scar on my hand, then grabbed a cotton pad and started on Bram, smearing it over all the cuts and scratches, the bruises they’d given him. “Bitches,” I muttered.

Bram was quiet for several seconds. “One of them spoke to me.”

“What did they say?”

“That you were theirs.”

A shiver moved through me. “Well, they were wrong. And I won’t ever be going back to that place, so they’re shit out of luck.” At least while I was alive. If this mark on my hand meant what I thought it did, my family might have no choice but to put me there one day, anyway. The darkness in me might be too great.

“No,” Bram growled out. “You won’t ever go back, and if you even think about it, I’ll fucking tie you down and never let you out of my sight.”

Instead of being irritated at his order, my body heated, my belly doing that swirling thing it did around him. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Did I tell you how bossy you’ve gotten lately?” I said and swiped some of the healing oil over another scratch on his chest. Bram was silent again, and I looked up.

His gaze locked with mine, then he shook his head. “No, but I’m not too worried.”

My heart raced faster. “Oh? And why is that?”

His nostrils flared and he breathed deep. “Because you love it.”

My face heated, but I didn’t look away. “Caught that, did you?”

“Yeah, I fucking did,” he said, his voice gravelly as hell.

I carried on, cleaning and treating the wounds on his chest, while his gaze burned into me. I felt the hunger rolling off him, but he didn’t move, didn’t attempt to touch me or kiss me or pull me closer. I loved him for it and wanted to cry at the same time.

“It’s okay,” he said.

I kept my head down. “No…it’s not.”

“We talked about this, Mags. I want you, of course I do, but this is enough. You think I lied about that?”

I shook my head.

“Good.”

“But Wills and Warrick and Iris and Daven, Rose and Ronan—”

“Aren’t us. We’ll work out our own thing, yeah? And who says we have to touch each other to give pleasure. There are other things we can do,” he said roughly.

“There is?”

He nodded. “But right now, we’re going to talk through what we know about this task,” he said, changing the subject, trying to distract me. “Okay? So tell me what you know so far.”

I wanted him to elaborate on the “things we can do,” but I felt too raw to go there right then, and Bram knew it, hence the change of subject. “We know a group of friends and the people close to them are being targeted, tortured, and killed. Body parts, skin, and other organs have been taken from each scene for reasons unknown, and all have had judgment carved into their skin.”

Bram nodded. “What else?”

“We know the prom committee’s relationships aren’t platonic. They partake in group sex, they frequent Brent Silva’s club, Red. And after what I saw at the Hazarks’, we know they sometimes bring others into their circle. Like Isaac, Maria, and Ryan. All of whom are also members of Red, well, except for Isaac who was kicked out. They’re in each other’s pockets, and they’ve been that way since they were teenagers.”