Malum part 2

Tillie

The morning sun pours out from under the dark curtains, along with our prior night’s sins. I go to swing my legs over his bed but flinch when they throb with pain. I lift the blanket and take a peek at the damage. Finger marks, bite marks, and dried blood cover my upper thighs where there’s that lovely little cut. It wasn’t enough to need stitches and the dried blood that set over the incision was enough to stop it from bleeding. How generous of him.

“Oh god.” I shake my head.

We took it to another level last night, one I hadn’t seen in Nate since we first slept together. I forgot how bad he can get. Picking up the first thing I find on the floor—another one of his hoodies—I slip it over my head, letting it fall to my knees. My tummy rumbles, but I promised Nate one night, and one night it was. We have to stay focused to figure out our next move. No point being battered soldiers when the battering is happening from each other, not our enemies.

“Where you goin’.” He wraps his arm around my waist and drags me back into the bed.

“I need to go,” I laugh.

His phone starts ringing on his nightstand. Groaning, he grabs at it aimlessly, pushing it to his ear. “What?” His eyes come to mine. “Really?”

“What?” I mouth, wondering why he’s looking at me like I’m a snack. If I’m his snack, I’ll make sure I’m laced with poison for that lethal sex last night.

“Be there in thirty.” He hangs up and smirks at me. I fight the urge to punch his face because it’s not fair he looks this perfect first thing in the damn morning. “Your car is here. Guess you’ll be riding something else other than my dick from now on.”

I throw a pillow at his face and he bursts out laughing, his straight, white teeth flashing behind his perfect lips.

“Bastard.”

I don’t bother changing, mainly because I don’t have clothes here. Since my i

We pull up to Brantley’s driveway, and I turn to face Nate, noticing how absolutely wrecked we both look. Like we just came out of a war zone. He has dark hickeys all over his neck and a black eye?

“Shit. Did I punch you last night?”

He sips on his coffee, trying to find his Ray-Bans. “You kicked me when I licked your sweet little cunt for the fifth time.”

“Nate!” I squirm.

I flip the mirror down and flinch. “I look like shit.” Dark circles, my skin pale and my hair the next home for homeless, stray birds.

“Impossible. Get out.”

We both climb out of the car and my eyes land on the new addition that’s sitting in the middle of Brantley’s driveway.

I smirk, walking up to it just as Brantley and Eli exit the front door.

Brantley tosses me the keys and his eyes widen as they go between Nate and I. “You both look like shit. Must have been a good night.”

I catch them and unlock the car. It really is stu

Nate leans into the window from the passenger side. “Good choice, baby.”

I stand. “We are all going for a ride. We need to do something normal.”

Brantley’s eyes catch Nate’s. “Yeah, because Hector has called another meet for Friday night.”

“What?” Nate shouts.

I freeze. “It’s not been a month—it’s only been days?”

Brantley nods, his eyes staying on Nate. “Which is why it’s interesting he’s called it, and he has asked for Tillie to be there.”

“Tillie will not be there,” Nate declares matter-of-factly.

“Tillie is right here, and Tillie is fine with being there…” I add, shutting the driver’s side door and making my way up the steps.

“Tillie is not fucking going!” Nate hollers from behind me.

I flip him off as I enter the house and start making my way down to the room of gloom, when Brantley stops me with his words.

“I’ve moved your room. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. You’re not a prisoner anymore, it was only until we sorted the Daemon thing out. We couldn’t risk you telling Madison about seeing her dead brother.”

I turn to face him. “I like being here.”

Brantley smiles. Smiles. Not smirks, not scowls. Smiles. Rows of the straightest white teeth against his ta

I head down toward the door, thanking Brantley on the way. When I open the door, I’m instantly in love with the space. It has one large bay window that opens out to the back yard. The walls are white, and the bed linen one shade darker than the walls. I open one of the doors and I’m met with a bathroom. It’s about the same size as the one I had downstairs—no bath. The second door is a walk-in closet. My clothes already hanging carefully on the hangers. I wonder who his maid is? I wouldn’t put it past him to have that sweet i

Or maybe I’m deranged.

Considering the latest events, I settle for the latter, grab some clothes and slip into the shower, enjoying the warm water crashing against my battered skin.

I change quickly, after lathering oils against myself and blow-drying my hair. I don’t bother to straighten it, rather letting the natural wave fall down my back. I’m slipping on my Jimmy Choos when the door opens.

Nate stands freshly showered and wearing light blue faded jeans, a Phillip Plein shirt, and his leather jacket that has a hood stitched into the collar.

I stuck to white ski

“I’m serious, Tillie. You can’t come on Friday.”

I’m tightening the final strap when I stand and reach for my phone that was charging. “I can, and I will. He asked me to attend.”

“I’ll cage you.”

“And I’ll break free.” I grin at him, latching my watch around my wrist and spraying my Valentino perfume over myself.

He steps into my room, instantly making it feel smaller. “It might get ugly.”

“I’ve seen ugly, Nate…” I murmur, bringing my hand to his cheek. “I killed ugly.”

His eyes search mine and he winces, stepping out of my touch. Shit. You idiot, Tillie. Stop touching what you can’t have.

“I hate that you took on that burden,” he answers, reaching for my hand.

I let him take it. “Rather me than Madison.”

“I’d rather me take it or Bishop. You two are uncontrollable.”

He leads me out and I reach for my debit card, sliding both that and my phone into my back pocket. I shut my door and we round it until we’re waiting for everyone at the bottom of the stairs.

There’s silence, the only sound coming from the ticking of an old grandfather clock in the foyer.

“Did you hear that?” I ask Nate.