Page 97 of Devour

I let go of his shirt and stand up. He doesn’t move from the floor right away. He presses his hand against his nose and then scrambles to his feet.

“Now you listen to me, son. I appreciate that you want to protect her, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this, but you need to understand what’s going to happen.” He’s harder than he was before. He looks up at me and wipes the blood off his chin. “Saylor is going to marry after she’s no longer your Dove, Axl. It’s already arranged.”

“You’re damn right she is. She’s marrying me.”

David actually laughs. It’s a wet, bloody sound, and it pisses me off more than anything he’s said so far. “You think you get to decide that? I’m the one who gets to decide my daughter’s future. You don’t have the authority to marry anyone without Council approval, and your father has already made his decision about your match.”

I’m so fucking tired of these fucks telling me what Saylor and I are going to fucking do. “My father can go fuck himself. And so can you.”

“Your father and I are in agreement on this.” He spits blood onto the floor and straightens his shirt. “You want to protect her? Then walk away and let me make sure she’s safe.”

“And you think you’ve done a good job of that so fucking far?”

I’m moving toward him. I’m going to kill him like I should’ve done in the first place, but Priest’s hand catches my arm, jerking me back.

“We’re done here,” Priest says to David, but then he looks at me. “Let’s go. Now.”

I shrug his hand off my arm. I look once more at David and the blood on his face from where I punched him.

“If I find out you lied to me about hurting her, you won’t see me coming when I take your ass out. And I’m marrying your daughter. So make this easy on yourself and make it fucking happen.”

I turn and walk out the way I came in. Fuck him. He’s as good as dead anyway, once the Sinclairs have what they need. I have connections too, and if anyone thinks they’re going to keep me from having what’s mine, they’re all going to learn how fast I’ll burn everything to the fucking ground.

CHAPTER 41

SAYLOR

Kynlee left twenty minutes ago with Veronica, and I’m still sprawled on the couch. The next movie in the series is playing, but I stopped watching it a while ago.

I wish Axl would get back from whatever the fuck he’s doing. He called me his queen last night, and I can’t stop thinking about what he meant by that. With Axl, everything is definite. I’m his. I’ve never let myself think about what that means when this year is over or even when I go back to school in another month. But the way he talks about us makes it seem like forever.

That’s the kind of thinking that only leads to fucking heartache. And even if he did mean forever, I’m going to be more trouble than I’m worth if I don’t get these nightmares under control. I don’t think he slept a minute last night. I think he’s watching me to see if I’ll say or do something that’ll give him the clue he’s looking for.

A phone buzzes on the table, and I look over. It isn’t mine. Kynlee’s screen lights up with a text from a number she doesn’t have saved. I don’t read it because I’m not that kind of friend. But she can’t go ten minutes without that thing, and I know she’s going to want it.

I grab Kynlee’s phone and head for the door to run it to her real quick. I pull the door open and my brother is in the hallway, just stepping out of his room. He hasn’t spoken to me since we stayed the night at our parents’ house.

“Justin.” I step into the hallway and hold up Kynlee’s phone. “Hey. Kyns forgot her phone. Is she in your room?”

He stops but barely looks at me. “I don’t know where she is. Probably somewhere chasing after that damn cat.”

“Are you seriously still pissed at me about Axl?” I move closer and step in front of him so he’s forced to talk to me. “He didn’t fuck Tracy.”

“I’m not pissed at you, Saylor.” He keeps his eyes forward like he can’t wait to get away from me. “If you want to keep being his whore, that’s on you.”

“Justin.” I grab his arm. His sleeve is pushed up to his elbow, and my fingers are wrapped around his bare forearm. I’m about to tell him to stop being a fucking asshole when my mouth goes dry and my body freezes. His cologne hits me, and nausea hits so hard my knees buckle.

No. Fucking, please, no. I’m going to be fucking sick.

I rip my hand away from his arm, and I stagger backward. My skin is crawling where I touched him, and my throat is closing on itself. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.

Tears are running down my face before I even realize that I’m crying. My hands are shaking so hard Kynlee’s phone almost falls out of my grip.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Sayl? What’s wrong?”

I shove him—both hands flat against his chest and hard enough that he stumbles back a step.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” My voice cracks, and I hate it.