Page 10 of Breathe Like Hell

“You know that demon?”

“For decades, yes. Mason slaughtered his entire crew at once a long time ago, and then acted like a dick about it afterwards. Aamon never forgave him, and I’m sure he was very excited to learn about your existence—payback.”

Goosebumps prickled along my bare arms as my fear magnified in the back of my mind. I was a target for a demon. Me. And I knew I wouldn’t make it out of that fight alive.

“Why didn’t Mason kill him too?”

“Aamon’s half angel. He’s a lot harder to kill.” Micah shifted how he was sitting in his seat, looked over at me. “That’s why his eyes are gold—the ichor. Regular demons have red eyes.”

“Oh.” I stared down at my lap.

I wanted to ask Micah if he was mad at me, if he hated me, if everything was going to go to shit between us once we got inside, but I held my tongue. A handful of minutes later, we pulled into his driveway.

He parked in the garage, then carried me inside so I didn’t have to step on the cold concrete in my socks. Surprisingly, he’d gotten my boots somehow, and he dropped them on the rubber mat by the garage door as we entered.

“Go upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute,” Micah instructed, heading into the kitchen.

My eyes stung as I watched him go, my lower lip wobbling in a frown. I wanted him to kiss me or hold me or do something to reassure me that he wasn’t still pissed. But he didn’t glance back.

Mason entered the kitchen through the back door as I went towards the stairs, and I caught his eye for a fraction of a second before I disappeared upstairs. Instead of going into Micah’s bedroom, though, I sat at the top of the stairs in the darkness, listening to their low voices.

“I’m sorry⁠—”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about how sorry you are, Mason. He could’ve killed her. Easily. All because you can’t pull yourself together and do the one thing you’re supposed to do.”

It was silent for a minute, and my heartbeat started getting faster. I gripped the carpeted edge of the step, digging my nails into the fibers—which was when I noticed a blood stain on it.

I turned back and looked into the hallway. It was dark, but I could see more blood stains all over the carpet. There were several holes and cracks in the walls. And the side table was missing.

“Keep your promise, then,” Mason bit out. My attention turned away from the mess in the hallway, back towards the shadowy first floor.

“Not now. Not when your bullshit has put her life in danger.”

“Get another Thrausian⁠—”

“Mason, I swear to fucking God⁠—”

“I’ll do it, but I can’t do it without you. You know that,” Mason said lowly, his voice pained and rough. It was so strange to hear them interacting like this. Surely they knew I could hear them—or at least Micah would suspect it.

“Nice to hear you admit that.”

“Now you’re cocky? Thought you cared about her life more than⁠—”

I flinched at the sound of something cracking. A fist hitting a jaw, maybe. Or a cheekbone, a nose. There were more sounds of struggle that quickly turned into rapid, angry footsteps heading straight towards the stairs.

I jumped up and darted into Micah’s bedroom, throwing myself on the bed and burying myself under the covers.

He entered the room a second later and I turned over, watching him wipe the blood pouring from his nose as he went into the bathroom and flicked the lights on. The bed still smelled like both of them. Memories of both their hands on my body, their fingers inside me together, made my cheeks heat and my stomach twist.

I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow, smelling both of their scents. Forest and ocean. Darkness and darkness. It was comforting, in a way.

Micah exited the bathroom and took all his clothes off, except his boxers, then climbed into bed with me, his arms instantly wrapping around my body and pulling me back against his warmth.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Masters,” he murmured. “Never. You understand?”

I nodded, shame clogging my throat. I hated thinking about the fact that I might’ve actually hurt him with what I’d done with Mason behind his back. Worrying about him being angry at me was easier than acknowledging that he might be more sad than anything else. I didn’t deserve Micah’s care now.

Maybe I never did.