Liar (Madison Kate #2)(20)

My dreams were haunted, as they had been every night since Halloween, but this time it was different. Worse. Instead of the blood and violence that I'd started to grow used to on a nightly basis, this time it was dreams of being trapped in a tiny white room with no door, no windows—no way out at all.

I woke screaming, covered in cold sweat, only to have my mattress dip beside me and a strong pair of arms drag me into a tight embrace.

"Go away," I mumbled with a grand total of zero conviction, "I don't fucking need you here." Lies.

Fingers stroked through my hair and down my back, kneading the tight muscles beside my spine, and I tucked myself tighter into his hard chest. He was so freaking warm it was like hugging a giant hot water bottle.

"Yes, you do," Archer replied in a dark murmur.

Tears squeezed out from behind my closed lids, running down my face and onto his skin as my soul screamed in pain. "I hate you so fucking much," I whispered, yet still I threaded my arms around his body, holding him tighter than Rose on the damn door after the Titanic sank.

Archer breathed out a long sigh, his heartbeat thumping under my ear. "Not nearly as much as I hate you, Kate." His voice was so quiet I doubted I was even meant to hear him, but my pulse raced nonetheless. He'd never called me that before. It was so... intimate. "Not as much as I hate myself."

I didn't react. I was certain he hadn't intended to say that out loud, and frankly, I didn't have the energy to fight with him in the middle of the damn night. Instead, I let his steady heartbeat and warm embrace lull me back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke again, I was alone.

For a moment I questioned my own memories, whether I'd dreamed the whole encounter. But my second pillow smelled of him, tough and manly, like cedarwood and oak but highlighted with delicate notes of lavender and geranium.

I... I had no idea how to feel about Archer's late night visit. Confused as hell, and with a hectic, post-crying headache, I dragged my ass out of bed and went to find something to wear for the day.

It wasn't until after I'd showered, done my hair and makeup, and gotten dressed that I spotted the undeniable proof that I hadn't imagined Archer sleeping here with me. My bedroom door sat weirdly, and on closer inspection I found the wood around the flimsy lock had splintered, meaning it wouldn't fully close properly.

I stared at the broken door for a long moment, desperately trying to reconcile this action with the overbearing prick who'd somehow manipulated my father into restricting all my freedom of movement. Eventually, though, I came up blank. Breaking my lock was something done in the heat of a moment, without any regard for consequences. Which said he’d been worried enough about my screaming nightmare he’d literally broken down my door. But, this was Archer, so the math didn’t add up.

Shoving the whole weird incident aside, I made my way down to the kitchen for breakfast. As mad as I was, I wasn't missing my lectures, and I wasn't going to starve all the way until lunch.

In the kitchen, I found Cherry sitting at the counter reading a magazine and sipping on a glass of orange juice. And Archer. He was sweaty and still in gym clothes, clearly having just come from his early morning workout with Kody and Steele. I'd unexpectedly slept in later than I'd gotten into the habit of doing, so I wasn't getting the kitchen all to myself like I'd hoped.

"Oh, good morning, honey!" Cherry sang when she saw me standing there scowling at her son's sweaty back. "How did you sleep?"

I blinked at her a couple of times before I realized she was dead serious, like she hadn't even witnessed the disgusting scene with my father the evening before.

"Fine," I grunted back. I moved into the kitchen and reached past Archer to grab my favorite sugary cereal from the cupboard—seeing as he seemed to have no intention of moving out of my way. "You'd better fix my damn door," I muttered to him under my breath as I leaned close. "I won't be held prisoner here without at least an illusion of privacy."

Archer leaned his ass against the counter, drinking from his protein shaker and probably using fresh protein powder after my steroids prank. A tiny smile pulled the corner of his lips. "Glad you understand it's only an illusion, Princess."

Anger rippled through me, and I slammed my breakfast cereal down on the counter so hard little pieces flew out and scattered.

"Now, now," he chided me under his breath, "none of that feminine hysteria of yours."

I could have murdered him. Right then and there, cut his throat with my breakfast spoon and watched as his blood poured all over the white marble of the kitchen tiles.

But he was saved by the barely concealed laughter in his blue eyes. It was an expression I couldn't remember ever seeing on his ruggedly handsome face, and it was enough to temper my immediate anger. He was making fun of my father's misogynistic bullshit... but that still didn't make it okay. Just less murder-worthy.

"Madison Kate," Cherry spoke up, tearing my attention away from her son, "your father had to take some early morning calls, and I know you're leaving for class soon."

I arched a brow, wondering how she knew that. It wasn't like we'd ever exchanged more than five words.

Archer took that opportunity to swagger out of the kitchen, mumbling something to his mom about needing a shower. That left me alone with my father's new girlfriend, who I knew next to nothing about.