Page 71 of Gravehouse

I hold her stare. “Did I stutter? Why the fuck are you still here?”

Her silence stretches before she stands, the sheets falling away. She pads across the rug, sliding her hands around my waist.

“Where should I sleep, then?” She presses her mouth between my shoulder blades. “Atlas’s room?” Fingers tighten on my hip. “Ivy’s?” A pause. “Maybe I can see if she can still breathe with a pillow shoved over her face.”

My hand flies to her throat, yanking her flush against me. She doesn’t flinch. She meets my aggression with the stubbornness only someone who has a mother like hers can.

Every muscle in my body fights the impulse to do something stupid, and I shove her back until she hits the floor with a dull thud.

She recoils, wrapping her arms around her body.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Asher!” Her voice cracks before she grabs her robe from the foot of the bed, slipping it on with jerky movements. “Enjoy your empty bed along with your empty fucking life.”

As her footsteps die out, I drop onto the edge of the mattress, elbows braced on my knees.

Who the fuck are you really, Ivanya…

Atlas roundsthe corner with a smirk that guarantees he’s gonna end up with my fist in his face. “Okay, don’t get mad…”

My jaw sets. “What is it?”

I didn’t get much sleep last night after kicking Camille out. Had Ivy running circles in my head until early hours of this morning.

“Khloe’s here.” He drags the words out, loving every second. His smirk widens. “And she brought Aléia.”

I set the blender bottle down hard enough to rattle the granite. “She what.”

Atlas lifts one shoulder, useless bastard, and leans against the doorway in his thermals with snow melting off the hem of his jacket. “Relax.”

“Fuck off,” I snap, twisting the lid on the shaker before leaving it on the counter and heading for the front door.

I close my hand around the handle, but it jerks inward before I get the chance.

Khloe throws her arms wide. “Surprise!”

“Oh good,” I deadpan, but fight the smile already spreading over my face. “My least peaceful sibling.”

She gasps. “Rude. I bring joy.”

I lift a brow. “You bring noise.”

She launches at me anyway, and I catch her around the waist because reflex doesn’t care how much of a menace she is.

Her face presses into my chest for half a second before she rises on tiptoe, mouth against my shirt. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop Aléia from coming.”

“Figured,” I mutter, as Aléia ghosts in behind her, mouth already locked in that tight-ass line she wears when she’s contemplating how she wants to ruin someone’s life.

Sinead takes her coat, throwing me a lopsided glance before disappearing.

“Huh,” Aléia mutters, as if we’re all beneath her. “I expected… more.” She doesn’t have to say it for me to know she means the house.

Atlas stretches his mouth into a fake smile that shows all his teeth. “Lovely to see you too, Aléia.”

“Atlas.” Aléia barely spares him a glance, plucking the gloves from her hands.

Footsteps click overhead, and Mom appears at the top of the stairs in a smoke-colored cashmere set, one hand sliding along the railing as her whole face warms the second she sees Khloe.

Actually warms, stripped of all her usual polished bullshit.