Was I Ever Real (Was I Ever #2)

by Naomi Loud

“That’s not where you belong.” The words from earlier echo behind the intent of what I just said. “You sleep in my bed now.”

“You’re going to burn in hell for this,” he hisses, his voice hoarse from disuse and dehydration. “Save me a seat,” I drawl.

I’m trapped in limbo. In a liminal space where I’m knitting a web of false security around myself while the threat is still out there.

I cycle through all the gruesome ways I’ll kill them. Like a lullaby, I count dead bodies like I’m counting sheep, but still, I can’t sleep.

The hopelessness feels less palpable. It’s slowly being replaced with anger. It cloaks me like chainmail, helping me stand a little taller than before.

I send out a prayer. Not to God. No. To Lenix. To a future version of her—of myself—who will reclaim her power and fight back.

I’m fighting against the searing need to coddle her but instead take a step back. I let her straighten herself, understanding her desire to do this alone. Even if it’s just walking out of this room on her own two feet.

“What have you done?” he hisses. “Isn’t it obvious,” I say cooly, cocking my head to one side, my smile growing even wider. “I’m sending you to hell.”

She is Lilith personified.

And I am the devil at her feet.

I needed to slip into the role of Connor Maxwell, leader of the Sin Eaters and not whoever I am lately when I’m around her. The vulnerability feels itchy, but then I look at her and crack open nonetheless.

I spend the next few minutes staring blankly at the spot where she disappeared wondering how I got here. And how I plan to stay here with her for as long as I’m alive and breathing—maybe even longer than that.

Maybe I do believe in fate after all—when all this feels much bigger than just one choice after the next leading me here—leading me to him. Bound together.

I can’t tell if deep down I always knew we’d end up together, or if the thought is so outlandish that my brain can hardly compute. I want to run and hide, but also be found.

There’s so much for us to discuss, so many things left unsaid. Our preferred mode of communication is to argue—or fuck… or fuck while arguing.

“This,” he says, while pointing to me and then him, “is real, Lenix. And it’s for life. I adore you. I love you so damn much that it feels like I’ve always loved you, but I’ve just been too much of an idiot to realize it until now. It doesn’t matter how it started, the only thing that matters is that there’s no end between us.”

“What about the lasagna?” I say with a giggle. “Who gives a fuck about food when my wife is on the menu?”

“I like it when you look at me like that,” she says, her tone matching my own hunger. “Like what?” I say slowly. “Like you’re obsessed with me.”

“You’re telling me you have no reservations about us ending up together when I have visions about killing you in a past life?” I squeak out. He gives me one of his cocky curls of his lips and flashes me a smile. “I probably deserved it.”

Damn, he looks good. Almost passing for a gentleman. Though, not when he’s staring at me like that he doesn’t.