Page 16 of Play The Game

He holds me to his chest and promises me French toast if I get up. When that doesn’t work, he promises me a private Vanth Falling concert in the bedroom if I sit up and let him feed me while Blaise plays. Finally, he promises me the world if I’ll just open my eyes.

But I can’t.

Not even for him.

Eventually, he gets out of bed and snaps at Blaise to watch me as he storms out of the room like his ass is on fire. The bed dips then Blaise strokes my back as he hums under his breath, the morose thread back in his voice. It had only just eased up and my panic with it… and now I’ve shoved him back into the darkest corners of his mind with my own demons. I want to apologize to him, and to thank him, I want to crack a joke about role reversal and it being my turn to be the morbid one.

I can’t.

There’s nothing left of me.

He’s better about this than I am, though, doesn’t panic or falter even for a second. He doesn’t try to speak to me either, just touches me gently like I’m so fucking breakable.

Fuck, I guess right now I am.

Then Harley’s voice carries through the open door, vibrating with the type of alarm I’ve felt myself but never had pointed in my direction.

“She won’t move or speak, I’m freaking the fuck out… yes, Floss… yes, come now… I don’t care, just get in the fucking car and come now.”

Then he stops talking. Blaise strokes the hair away from my face. Eventually he leaves me too, and I can wallow in the silence by myself.

I become aware again at the sound of Avery’s sharp tones as she breathes pure ice at her cousin. “I don’t know why you’re losing your mind right now, Harley, Lips told you this would happen.”

He practically snarls back at her, “Staying in bed feeling shitty all day is one thing, but she’s checked all the way out, Aves. You can’t tell me you’re not worried. She won’t even eat, for fuck’s sake!”

I feel her lips brush my cheek. “I’ll worry about her tomorrow. She will not do her birthday, not even for us. Just let her have her fucking space and stop trying to fix her.”

There’s murmuring by the door and then cool air washes over my body as the blankets lift and someone climbs in next to me. I don’t move or speak. If the heady smell of his skin didn’t tip me off, the caress of fingers’ tracing patterns on my thighs are a dead giveaway that it’s Ash. It’s fucking hard work, but I manage to sigh.

“Shh, Mounty. We’re not functioning today. Avery is going to babysit the other two and keep them busy. You and me will be nothing in here together.”

I don’t know how long I take, but I slowly move until my head hits his chest, and he takes it as the request it is to bundle me into his arms. I can’t open my eyes or speak, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“When you’re feeling better tomorrow, can you shake that perfect ass of yours for me again? I’ve been thinking about it non-stop and fuck, I can’t go another fucking day without seeing it in the flesh. The way your hips move, I can’t wait to see how you move on my cock.”

My response is instant and Pavlovian as a shiver runs down my spine, and he hums under his breath appreciatively. “Good to know you’re still alive, Mounty. Do you want to hear all about what I’m going to do to you when you’re back in the land of the living? All of the things we have to look forward to?”

FOUR

The townhouse is quiet when I wake up the morning after my trauma-induced sabbatical. Ash is still wrapped around me, my cheek is pillowed by Harley’s hand, and I can hear Blaise’s soft snoring so I know he’s close by. The bed is definitely not big enough for all four of us, it barely fits three, but when the clawing ache of hunger drags me out of bed, I find him on one of the reclining lounge chairs that he’s dragged into the hall. My chest gets tight with an emotion I can’t label, at the thought of the panic he must have felt, that even a few extra feet of distance was too much while I was so clearly losing my shit. I have to swallow around the lump in my throat to stop myself from breaking in half all over again.

Avery is already in the kitchen, fussing with the coffee machine that was way too complicated for me to figure out. She shoots me a conspiratorial grin over her shoulder, her Chanel robe wrapping her up into polished perfection, and the tired smile I give her is enough reassurance that she turns back to the machine without comment. I dig through the fridge until I can find something we both agree on for breakfast, but when she offers to help I turn her down. Coffee is a necessity for the survival of both myself and everyone I encounter today, so getting that machine running is a matter of National Security at this point. My eyes practically roll into the back of my head as it finally starts making that grinding-groaning sound of success, and when we’re finally sitting down with a plate of eggs and a steaming cup each in front of us, Avery cackles when I take my first sip and almost weep with joy. Joke’s on her, though, because I have no shame about it; nobody on this Earth can make my coffee as well as she can.

“What’s going to happen now the Vulture is dead?”

Her tone is still drenched in affection, and the soft smile is still on her face, and despite yesterday’s clusterfuck, it’s business as usual. I fucking love her for it, too. She’s not ignoring my trauma, and there’s no fake bullshit going on right now, either. She’s seen it and accepted it, but she can also obviously tell that the worst thing she could do right now is try to talk about it, so instead, she’s going to talk business while she sips her coffee and nibbles delicately at her breakfast.

For the record, I eat mine like an animal; zero fucks given.

With something concrete to focus on, clearing my head a little, I murmur back to her easily with a shrug. “They’ll run the Game again, but it’ll take three or four months before it even starts… at least six before we have a new member. A lot of palms have to be greased before they can start, and the Vulture’s empire needs to be assessed, divided, and dismantled.”

Avery cocks her head at me, her brow furrowing a little. “How does that work? Who decides that?”

The depth of jaded exhaustion in the sigh that rushes out of me is something no eighteen-year-old should be capable of, but this city has done a number on me. “The Crow and the Jackal will go head-to-head for it, I guess. No one else has any interest in selling skin, and it’ll be another full-time operation to take on. The Jackal would love nothing more than adding skin to his empire. The Crow… I don’t know. He’ll want to take it on just so the Jackal doesn’t get bigger than him, but I don’t see him keeping it. He’s not… how do I say this… he’s ruthless. He’s cold, clinical, and he won’t hesitate. It’s what’s made his empire the only real rival to the Jackal’s, but he’s not a predator. I’ve seen what the Jackal does to girls, I know what he’ll do if he takes over the Vulture’s work. I can’t see the Crow selling unwilling skin. Running willing girls, hell yeah, but importing kidnapped teenagers to drug and sell off? Nope.”

Avery’s face twists in disgust and her eyes slide away from me as she shudders. “I don’t want to think about how much money my father has spent at those auctions.”

I grimace. I don’t either, and I definitely don’t love the reminder of how much work I still have to do on the Beaumont front. Fuck, I’m still pretty much at square one and I’ve only really made strides with the O’Cronin bunch. Having Illi around may become a blessing beyond his ability to kill, and I start to mentally make a list for him, losing myself a little as I think over the order of priority.