Devoured: A Novel(21)

That’s the last thing I need right now.

Releasing an exasperated moan, Kylie punches a button on the radio, cutting the rock song that’s blasting through the SUV off in the middle of the guitar solo. “Would you just say something? Cuss me out and call me a vicious bitch if you want, but don’t ignore me.” I hear the flick of a lighter, smell the menthol scent of her cigarette. I exaggerate a cough, even though I grew up around smokers and had gone through my Marlboro stage in high school. “My ex-husband used to do that ignoring shit, and it sucks. Bad,” Kylie tells me, sniffling.

Apparently, we have something in common because Preston used the same tactics on me but it’s still not enough to change my resolve. I press the side of my face to the cold window, sliding my teeth together.

“You don’t understand how Lucas gets when he wants something like he wants you,” she continues once she realizes I’ve got no intention of talking to her.

So it’s her job to go out and herd the submissive redhead in? Wonderful. Doesn’t she understand that I’m not some object her brother can simply click his fingers for and have? That it’s wrong for him to even make me an offer like the one he’s just given me because he’s dangling something that I hold dear over my head?

At last, Kylie turns the SUV onto the private drive to get to my grandmother’s home. Instead of parking the Escalade halfway down the driveway, as she did at the beginning of this evening, she drops me off right at the door.

Before I get out, she grabs my wrist. I try to tug away but she tightens her grip. What was with their family and the unwelcome touching? She flips on the interior lights, and I turn halfway in the leather seat to look at her. Kylie’s gorgeous—in an untraditional way—but right now her face looks 20 years older with the way her features are all bunched up in distress.

Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored her.

Then I admonish myself for thinking that. This is the second time this evening I’ve felt bad for offending Kylie and if this time is anything like the first, she’s about to punch me square in the vagina.

“Just hear me out,” she says, her voice steely. The hardness doesn’t reach her brown eyes. “There shouldn’t even be a question of whether or not you’ll do this. Luke can be a jerk—I’ll be the first to admit that— but he’s offering you an ass load of money to spend 10 days with him. I don’t know the specific terms of the deal he offered you for working for him, and God, I don’t ever want to know, but it has to be worth all this.” She releases my hand then gestures up at the house.

“I’m not a whore,” I blurt out. “Nothing’s worth feeling like that.”

She scoffs, shaking her head from side to side. “You’re only what you make yourself. And just so you know, if you were that, my brother wouldn’t waste his time pursuing you. He’s got more class than people give him credit for.”

Her words bother me. My hand flutters up to my neck, my fingertips rubbing anxiously over the soft flesh. My thumb still stings from cutting it on her ring, but it’s nothing compared to the sting in my throat. Reluctantly, she dips her head toward the door.

“You know how to get in touch with me if you’ve got questions, okay?”

I step out of the car, letting the crisp February air kiss my skin. I breathe in the scent of exhaust and chimney smoke—my grandmother must have started a fire. “Thanks for bringing me home, Kylie” I say, shutting the car door quietly behind me. I don’t look back at her again, but I hear the Escalade backing away and the angry pulse of heavy metal that’ll probably burst her ear drums before she reaches the main road.

I’m so not ready to go inside, so I rest my forehead to the wooden front door, letting a few tears fall. Gathering my thoughts.

What just happened? I almost feel like I’ve witnessed this entire night outside of my body. Almost like I’ll awaken tomorrow morning to discover that I’m still in L.A. and it’s time for me to get my ass to work before Tomas goes into convulsions.

But then I hear the strains of the television from inside the house—Gram’s favorite reality show. I feel a gust of air hit the spot on my leg where I nicked myself with a razor a couple days ago. Sighing, I let myself into the cabin and lock the doors behind me.

“I’m home,” I say enthusiastically, poking my head into the family room.

“You sound like you used to when you came home from a date in high school,” Gram teases, grinning at me. She’s in her recliner across the room. I’m trying my hardest to make myself look happy but if she were any closer or wearing her glasses, I’d be screwed. “Did you have a good time with Tori?”