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But surely not . . . surely he could never have saved me . . . surely he’d never have wanted to . . .
I’d never have believed it possible that one of the Morellis could have ever, ever saved me from my own sordid family, not in a million years, yet there I was, considering it as a maybe as my heart thumped wild.
The Morellis were supposed to be hell demons clawing at the gates of our Constantine heaven, and I’d never challenged that. It had been a lesson I’d learned since I was old enough to understand words. The Morellis are demons, the Morellis are wicked, the Morellis are worth nothing but hate and disdain. I’d never once held up their blood-stained souls and compared them to ours.
My cell sounded out, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Tristan.
Thank fuck it was Tristan.
My fingers were shaking worse than ever as I answered him, and my voice was as shaky to match.
Hello? Tristan? Hello?
His voice was as jagged as mine was, gasping breaths as he found the words.
“Is he there? Lucian? Is he there? He’s coming after you, Laine! He’s coming! He fucked me up, Laine. I only just came round. I only just got to my cell!”
Tristan’s call was way too late to warn me of the devil’s appearance, but I couldn’t tell him that.
“Lucian isn’t here. I’m, um . . . I’m at home . . .”
“What? You’re home? In Central Apartment? Is Stephen there? Are you with Stephen?”
More than anything I wanted to tell Tristan the truth; that Stephen was a monster who’d tried to rape me, and Lucian had saved me from his grasp. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him that Stephen was dead, and I’d been ass-fucked in his blood and loved every second of it like a good little slut.
“I’m not with Stephen, either,” I said. “He didn’t come with me.”
“Holy shit, Laine. Morelli knocked us both out cold on the floor, and he was coming for you.” He paused. “Coming for you and Stephen . . . so where’s Stephen? Where’s Stephen, Laine? He wouldn’t have let you go that easy.”
“I dunno . . .” I said, but my voice let me down. Tristan knew that. He knew me well enough to read my tone, even through my lies.
I heard his senses sharpen, even in his disorientation.
“So, where the fuck is Stephen, Laine?”
I heard a sob in my words, and I hated it. I hated slipping my mask down, always, even to my very best friend.
“I can’t tell you . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Bullshit!” he snapped. “This is all total bullshit. Morelli would have reached you, and I know it. I called as soon as I could, but I know it. He had time. So either you weren’t there to start with . . . or you were there and he came . . . or Stephen was there and you left him . . .” He paused, and I closed my eyes, praying that this whole world of a mess was nothing but a nightmare. “What happened, Laine? Just tell me what the fuck happened.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t find my voice.
“You’d better start talking,” he said. “I’m coming over there. I’m coming over to you right now, so help me, God. I don’t give a fuck if Lucian Morelli is there or not, I’m coming over.”
“Please . . . no!” I screamed, but he was already gone.
I tried calling back, but he wouldn’t answer me. I cursed as I dashed about the apartment, shedding my bloodied clothes and scrubbing myself down in my own shower. I dumped my clutch in my wash basket, and tugged on some PJs, looking ghostly as all shit in the bathroom mirror. I paced, waiting, hoping. I paced, praying. I paced, begging my heart to lose this infatuation with a demon and come to my damn senses for once in my goddamn life.
Tristan was without Blue when he arrived at my front door. His face was swollen and darkening on one side, his steps sore as he pushed past me with his cell held up high.
“I’ve got security on the line!” he yelled into the empty suite. “I swear it, motherfucker! I have security on the line and waiting! They’ll come for you!”
“He’s not here!” I insisted, and finally, with one final charge around the place, Tristan believed me.
He threw me down onto the couch, hard. I cried out as I landed, still trembling.
“Talk to me,” he said, and his eyes were wild. “For once in your fucking life, Elaine, just talk to me.”
I put my face in my hands. “I can’t. Believe me, Tristan, you don’t want to know.”
“Oh yeah?” He crouched down in front of me. “I think you’ll find I do. I think you’ll find I want to know just what the fuck that sonofabitch did to you and Stephen. Did he kill him, huh? Did Morelli kill Stephen Cannon?”
