Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(25)

“You’re psychotic. I’d rather drink bleach than date you again.”

I can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at one corner of my mouth.

“God, okay, bug. I fucked up, I know. Let me… I’m trying to make it up to you, okay? Just… don’t fucking go. Don’t tell me you’re moving on and living with someone else.”

Desperation reeks as it wafts off his lean body, smacking me in the face and instantly souring my mood even more. The toes of my boots meet the backs of his boat shoes, and silently, I slide the pistol from my waistband, fitting the cold mouth against the back of his neck.

He freezes, his shoulders drawing in.

It gets completely still, like the calm before a storm. Satisfaction settles hard and heavy on my soul as his fear seeps into the air, and I let my index finger brush over the trigger, relishing in the shiver that racks him.

“Would you rather I tell you, mate?” I pause, tapping him forcefully. “All right, here it is. I’ve come to collect my fiancée, and I don’t appreciate you putting your dodgy hands on her. I suggest you remove them now, or I’ll be forced to make you my third victim on Primrose property.”

Nobody moves for a moment. Lenny’s eyes remain on me while mine stay on the little shit, afraid of what I might find if I look away.

Fiancée wasn’t what we discussed, and yet for some reason, it’s what fell out of my mouth. Once the first syllable passed my lips, it was too late to backtrack and not look like a bumbling idiot.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” he says finally, breaking the silence and ripping me from my spiral.

“You first.”

His grip on Lenny’s chin becomes harsher, and she grimaces. My nostrils flare at that, violence seeping from my bones and getting swept into my bloodstream. With a sigh, I pull my hand back, trying to reel in the anger coursing through my nerve endings before I scar the girl for life.

Rearing my elbow back, I flick my wrist forward, turning at the last second so the butt of the gun connects with the guy’s ear. The familiar crack of metal colliding with bone rings out, and immediately his hold falls away as he stumbles to the side, clutching his head with a sob.

He falls to his knees, moving his hand to look at the blood pooling from a small cranial laceration. It covers his fingers and drips down his wrist, and perhaps I shouldn’t add insult to injury, but I’ve come too far at this point to stop before it gets good.

I glance at my little puppet as she pushes off the door and combs her fingers through her hair. “Are you all right, love?”

She nods, stepping up beside me.

“Holy shit. Lenny, he just fucking hit me. You’re gonna go off and live with this freak?” The man cradles his head, hissing under his breath.

“Maybe if you—”

The front door swings open, interrupting her reply as a burly figure fills the space. “What in the Sam Hill is going on out here?”

Even though she’s standing inches away, I can sense Lenny’s body tense up, and I feel slightly responsible. Something close to guilt scrapes at my spine, trying to burrow in my marrow, and I don’t bloody like the sensation.

As if driven by its own train of thought, my free hand finds the small of Lenny’s back, and I hook a finger in the hem of her shirt. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she leans into the gesture, as if she needs the support.

Then her father steps outside, holding the flaps of his plaid robe closed. He frowns as he inspects the injured creep, and then freezes altogether when his gaze swings around to me.

A grin threatens at my mouth for a brief second, before breaking free.

“Thomas. Long time, no see.”





12





Mama paces across the room, and each time she turns to walk in the opposite direction, I wring my hands together, ignoring the way my stomach growls. Not because I’m hungry, but because my body wants a different kind of discomfort.

By the time Preston comes out of Daddy’s office, my fingers are turning purple, and I rub my hands together as I shoot to my feet.

“Helene,” Daddy calls, and I avoid looking at my ex, even as he pauses at the threshold of the door.

Waiting.

For what, I can’t be sure. Maybe an escort, in case Jonas—who was ignored after the initial shock of his presence wore off—assaults him again.

My eyes stay fixed on the grandfather clock just visible in the office, and eventually Preston gives up, turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall. I watch as he goes, my stomach flipping with delight when I notice his swollen ear and the bandage just above the cartilage.

His footsteps echo as he gets farther away, and Mama puts a hand on my bicep, squeezing tight. One of the pink curlers falls from where it’s pinned to her scalp, but she ignores it as she tries to comfort me.

“Everything will be fine, dear.”

I don’t believe her, but then again, I knew there would be absolute hell to pay for my actions.

In truth, that was a major part of the appeal.

“We can’t help who we love,” she continues, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The sympathetic smile on her face tempts me; the truth teases the back of my throat like vomit, but I swallow it down because Mama can’t keep secrets.

Probably why she doesn’t know what really happened with Preston and Daddy.