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“Maisie. I prefer to be called Maisie. I was named after my two grandmothers. Maisel Eudora. It’s like their dream for me was to be an old lady.” I cringe. Thank God Skye gave me a cute nickname.
Scarlet turns to me. “You’re really good, Maisie.” But even though she gives me the compliment, she seems disturbed, and I wonder if I made a mistake in showing her.
“Thanks.”
“Tell me about her. Why did you name her Rage?”
I try to remember all the details as I saw them in my head when I created Rage a few years ago. “Her parents were murdered in front of her. Her brother was able to take them out of the house and cared for her for a few years. Then he was found and killed by the same people. She was sent to a home, where she was abused. She ran away and turned to a life of crime and became one of the deadliest assassins. That was until she was assigned to take out a family that had a son and a daughter, and it reminded her of her own family. She saved them instead and became an antihero.”
“Antihero?”
“Yeah, you know, a bad guy who does good things.”
She laughs, pauses to glance at the drawing, then laughs harder, literally bending over the bar. “Kid, you reallyareyoung. There’s no such thing as a bad person who does good deeds. Everything we do is bad.” Shoving the book back to me, she continues to eat.
I stare at her for a long while, my appetite completely gone, even for John’s Chinese. Part of me is pissed off that she laughed at me. I’ve always hated being made fun of. The other part of me is scared that she might be right. That bad people aren’t capable of kindness. Because if that’s true…
“Scarlet?”
“Hmm.”
“Is my sister going to be okay?”
She turns to me, and in her eyes, I see pity. “She’ll be fine,” she says, proving to me the one thing bad people are best at. Lying.
8
SKYE
The day my mother died, I was afraid to fall asleep. I was so scared I’d be haunted by terrible dreams. But that night, both Maisie and I snuggled into Daddy’s arms and we all slept soundly. Deeply.
Exhaustion does do that to me. I think it’s a protective mechanism my brain uses to remain functional when conscious. It sends me into a deathlike rest. Though I’m not sure what’s worse. Dreams or being completely unaware of my existence.
I wake slowly, coming out of that kind of deep sleep I go into after a traumatic event.
It takes me a moment to orient myself, peeling my eyes open, searching the darkness for the usual markers I find in my room—the blue light from the digital clock on my nightstand, a window to my right, and the lazy circling of the fan above me.
All of those things are absent. It’s not that I expected them to be there. I have no delusions that everything that’s happened was a dream. Although itisa nightmare.
What is there is Arran’s hard body pressed to my back and his strong arm snaked around my waist. His hand is tucked under my right breast, fitting there perfectly, and his warm breath is on the back of my neck.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been locked together like this. When I finally drifted off, we were at opposite sides of the king-size bed. Did Arran knowingly bring me closer to him? Or is this just a product of two people seeking heat?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to rouse me. I was too tired and emotionally drained. Actually, I don’t think a bomb going off near my ear would’ve done the job.
Well, I’m awake now and very much aware of the man at my back. Of his scent enveloping me.
Then he shifts slightly, and his cock presses between my ass cheeks. Though I can tell he’s not fully erect, it still brings back images of the things he did to me in the shower. The way he insinuated his dick so close to my entrance and made me crave something I shouldn’t.
Fuck me, I wanted it. I wonder if I’d never been with a man before, known what it feels like to be filled and stretched, if I still would have wanted it. I want to lie to myself, but it would do me no good.
Arran moves against me once more. Suddenly, I’m not just sleep warmed, but hot. My belly tightens and I feel the need to squirm against him.
Fuck this!
Carefully, I attempt to pull away, but his arm tightens around me and he digs one of his legs between mine.
I try again, and this time, not only do I fail, but I also get his hand cupped over my breast. My nipple puckers against his palm and I groan inwardly.
