Page 31 of Aftershock
“I mean, what if Hope passed out or…” She sneaks a glance over her shoulder.
Becket and his girlfriend, Samantha, edge toward us. One look at my now hardened expression, and the nurses I work with choose another table.
“What if I needed medical assistance for whatever reason?” Lilith continues once they’re seated, her hushed voice going straight to my cock. “You won’t know it’s important if I just yelledAlaric.”
“Little devil.” The nickname, along with an old, base protective instinct, comes out of nowhere. And I, the fool, don’t question either. “Whether it’s Alaric or Lockwood, it doesn’t matter. When you call for me, I’ll come.”
She blinks at me, stunned and speechless. Moisture gathers in her eyes.
Fuck.
If she starts crying, I’ll no doubt leap out of this chair. She’ll be in my arms within seconds, in a murderer’s arms.
“Do you like it here?” The change of subject is abrupt but necessary.
Lilith sniffles. Swallows.
“Hey.” I’m seconds away from getting up and hugging her. But my damn conscience won’t let me. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“Work’s great.”
Maybe if I asked her out, she’d tell me more. We could sit in an Italian restaurant. The lights would be dimmed low. A candle would flicker between us. I’d listen to her for hours while I watched her eat. I might even wipe tomato sauce from the corner of her mouth.
And all the while, a test subject would be rotting in your storage unit.
Fine, that’s out of the question. But I do want to learn about her. To help.
“Doesn’t sound like it.” I lean in. “Is anyone giving you a hard time? Someone here? Your landlord?”
“I don’t have a landlord.”
“You have a roommate.” Frowning, I recall the conversation I overheard between her and Hope about their place.
Usually,roommatesmean rent.
“It’s our home, yes.”
Disappointment flares at the clipped answer. At how she keeps feeding me breadcrumbs that aren’t nearly enough.
I only have myself to blame.
Today is the first time I’m having an actual conversation with her, and I already want her to spilleverything.
To what end? No idea.
What I do know is that my dick is throbbing. My chest is hot.
The need to hold her close twists into something far less innocent and much darker.
I don’t just want her to tell me everything. I need to fuck the truth out of her.
It’s sick and messed up.
When it comes to her, it’s all I have.
“Enough about me.” She sets the rag and spray on the table. Her minty breath fans over my lips as she levels her face with mine. “You were writing something on your napkin. What was it?”
My eyes dart to my backpack. To her fingers that start flirting with the zipper, lifting it ever so slowly.
