Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(59)

He gives me a toothy smile stuffed with genuine delight; something Aeron will never give me. Ash isn’t poisoned, like my mother suspects. He’s just a normal kid. He thinks he’s on vacation, not running for his untainted life.

I once put a bullet in the closest thing he has to a father. Me. I did that, cruel architect that I am; I thought it was better to take Aeron down, even if a whole house of cards would fall with him. A part of me wants to clutch Ash to my chest and swear I’ll be more careful, that I’ll be a protector and not a huntress.

It never stops.

Mum, I really tried.

***

On Ravahli Island, they make the cocktails strong.

Dinner was another feast—suckling pig, exotic salads, spiced sauces and a variety of custard-based puddings. Hassan says custard is a serious thing here, which I wouldn’t have guessed. Ethan took Ash back to their villa some time ago as the poor kid was exhausted; Harvey stuck around for a drink before taking Mo on some late night fishing trip; Gwen, Aeron, and I are walking back to our villas in the dark.

Or staggering. Staggering is the more correct term.

“Tell me why I wore heels,” Gwen mumbles as she grabs my arm to stay steady. In turn, I’m tossed sideways into the rough trunk of a palm tree.

“They’re nice heels,” I say, wincing into the bark.

Aeron’s strong arms come around my ribcage as he peels me away from the tree. “You’re a disgrace. I should fire the pair of you.” His voice has a gentle slur; mocking, but cute.

“Then we’d have more time for cocktails,” I point out.

Gwen giggles. I’ve never heard her do that; she smiles, but she doesn’t let go. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Are we even going the right way?”

“Yes, dumbass, we’re going the right way.” Aeron takes my hand and tugs me on to another path, where strings of fairy lights shiver in the distance, and the long deck disappears into the effervescent black sea. “This place is the size of a stamp, and you’re lost?”

“I had a brain once,” I tell Gwen. “Then I met Aeron.”

She gives a theatrical sigh. “Do you think mine’s next? Is it an exposure thing?”

“I can hear you, you know,” he says dryly.

“He can hear us. Shh.” I make a zip it gesture, dragging my finger across my lips.

Gwen giggles again—such a throaty ripple of a sound. I wonder if she knows I’m suspicious of her. I wonder if she’s really that drunk.

I’m drunk. It feels good. Feels like it’s becoming a habit too, but who cares when there’s nothing else to hold on to around here? Might as well get into a state where you don’t want to hold things anyway.

“I’m going to…gonna find my bed,” Gwen manages to say, before ducking down to yank her heels off and then trotting down the deck in bare feet. “G’night!”

“She seems happy,” I say.

“We spent all day going…” Aeron seems to forget his words for a second. His brow furrows with annoyance. “…Over the media stuff. The papers finally got here so I had a look at the…huh. The damage.”

“And this made her happy?”

“No. Vodka. Vodka made her happy.”

We scramble up the little steps to our villa, and Aeron feels around in his pockets for the key card.

“Fuckin’ birds,” he mutters as one sails overhead, cawing loudly.

“They’re like the bastard children of vultures and crows.” I press my forehead into the warm, firm plain of his back. “Crultures.”

A laugh rumbles from Aeron, starting in his belly and shuddering up to his mouth where it almost rattles the door. I feel it through his flesh first, and the pair of us vibrate with it, clasping at each other while simultaneously trying to get into the damn building.

“You have to call your next camera thing a crulture,” he announces, stumbling through to the sofa, still dragging me behind. “We’ll make it all black…”

“…But not with feathers…”

“No feathers. Fuck, no. Somebody think of the children.” He turns to gather me up in his arms and we move slowly across the floor, unintentionally floating. The air conditioning cools us to a simmer. The staff have filled the room with new flowers, and the scent blossoms up to wrap us in a…cocoon….how romantic. Ha haaaaa.

In the dim light, Aeron is a fuzzy outline, but I know to tip my head nonetheless and catch his mouth with mine. We both fall into the kiss too fast, tongues wet and teeth scraping, though my whimper only makes him kiss harder. He tastes like papaya and alcohol. Kind of like the cleaning wipes I use at home sometimes, only hotter. I want his fruit breath on my skin, all over me…anything to make me sweeter. God, I’m weird.

He pulls back and tries to steady the pair of us, which only leads to more laughter.

“So.” He brings his big hands up and cups my face, mashing his forehead to mine. “The police at home issued a statement a couple days back. I’m not a suspect.”

“Oh my God!” I jump, smacking into him, and he grumbles but barely seems to care. My face hurts. “That’s brilliant. Does that mean things are okay? It’s going to be okay?”

“It’s half…half the battle.” His tone falters, and though he sounds pleased, he also sounds like half of him is somewhere else. His pupils are fat and glassy, as if frozen in silent tears.