Conclave (Devil's Night, #3.5)

by Penelope Douglas

Cutting my trip short to race home, because she decides to ignore my calls and do little pirouettes all over my peace of mind? What the fuck?

“Decent men don’t do this,” I tell her. “But that’s why I wanted this one. She’s a devil, just like me.”

“The only one who can bring Ivar Torrance’s father to his knees is Ivar’s mother.”

Sea is a great place to bury bodies, you know? Deep breath, asshole.

“I need Will back, Rika,” she whispers. I lift my head, resting my chin on her chest and seeing her eyes glisten. She purses her lips to keep her emotions in check, but eventually, she explains, “I love you and Banks and Winter and the guys, but…Will gets it.”

“I was there when she was five and eight and thirteen, so you remember where you and she

started the next time you want to imply you have any more responsibility or love for her than I do,” he bites out. “My woman. Sit down.”

“And I’ll die your wife or I’ll die no one’s.”

We’re not criminals, and I have to constantly remind myself of that. We don’t break laws for personal gain. We do it for fun.

Michael loves you. You have options. People make it work every day. Lots of kids need good homes.

“We will have kids. If you want them. But I will never not have you.” He shakes me. “Do you understand?”

A sob lodges in my throat. “Do you understand?” he growls again. “A world where there is no us can’t happen.”

“I can’t follow the rules,” he says, “and with you, I don’t have to. I’m not alone. I can’t go back to being alone.” He hovers over my lips, our mouths open and hungry. “I can’t fucking breathe without my little monster.”

Omission is lying, and it was hurting us.

And just like that, she was eight again, our fingers hanging on by a thread in the treehouse, and I couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

I stared at her face, so much shit washing over me as I watched her, but most of all I just wanted to hold her close. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

I was going to be such a screw up. I’d do so many things wrong with her and this kid.

But fuck, I was going to love them. I didn’t care about being perfect. I just wanted to be everything my father wasn’t. I wanted this with her a million more times, and no matter all the shit that still...

I wanted the noise. I wanted it all over the house. I wanted it filling our lives from here on out.

While driving, we think, even for just a moment, about jerking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic or leaping off the balcony of a ship and into the abyss of the black water below. They’re passing thoughts and little dares we allow our psyche, because we’re tired of not living and we want the fear. We want to remember why we want to live.

“That’s what binds us,” she told me. “Who?” “Our family.” Our family? “Kai, Banks, Michael, Rika, Will, Alex…” she went on. “You and me. We all hear it. L’appel du vide. The call of the void.”