“We need to talk,” Avery continues, voice softer than before. He follows the direction of my gaze. “Something happened to us all, something that caused us to lose our memories. We need to figure out what’s real and what’s not. How long have we been away? Who did this to us? Why did they do this to us? There are so many questions.”
“I don’t think my family is actually my family,” I whisper, the pain of those words unfurling in my stomach like a blossoming flower. And though it hurts, I feel my power consume it as greedily as it does physical pain. It’s a heady sensation—the more internal pain I feel, the more pleasure it generates, until my entire world trembles on its axis.
“Sweetheart,” Avery coos, reaching for me at the same time I reach for him. I rest my head on his chest as he rocks us back and forth. This…this is familiar. This is the embrace of my best friend. There’s no confusion in the way my body feels against his, the way his heart beats beneath my ear, the rhythm as steady and as soothing as a drum line.
I wonder if I should be more upset over the revelation from last night—that Avery murdered all of those people—but all I can muster up is an intense longing for the man before me.
The thing is, murderers don’t crawl out from underneath the bed with glowing red eyes and blood dripping from their serrated teeth. They can be friends and family members, lovers and co-workers. They can be the person sitting next to you for decades who you only exchange an occasional conversation with. And believe me when I say those monsters are the most insidious, demonic humans imaginable.
But Avery? He’s my monster.
A body presses against my back, arms encircling both Avery and me.
“Hmmm, this is nice,” Sin sighs, nuzzling the back of my head. “You smell like flowers and sunshine and pain.”
“How can pain even have a scent?” Avery questions, reluctantly releasing me. When he turns back towards his now-burnt French toast, Sin smacks his ass as hard as he can. “What the fuck, man?”
When Sin removes his hand, I see the beginnings of blisters erupting on Avery’s cheek. The smell of burnt flesh permeates the air.
“At least I didn’t play whack-a-mole with your cock,” Sin says cheerfully, and the expression on Avery’s face? Priceless.
“I’m going to…um…go get dressed.” Avery unplugs the griddle and glares at Sin before planting a tender kiss to my forehead. Words aren’t necessary; I can feel his love and devotion for me through that chaste press of lips. “Don’t be too hard on them,” he murmurs in warning.
With one final glance at Sin—warning the crazy man with his eyes not to set his penis on fire—Avery stalks towards his bedroom.
“Darlin’,” Sin begins, his Southern accent even more pronounced as he wraps his arms around me from behind. “I want to move in with ya.”
“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I say evasively, allowing him to waddle us forward into the living room.
“Mine,” the God of Flames purrs as he nibbles on my earlobe. I feel a slight sting, and I glance down just in time to see his finger traveling over the bare skin at the bottom of my stomach. A tiny flame rests on the tip of his finger, burning me in the best possible way.
Ignoring my body’s visceral reaction, I step out of Sin’s embrace and perch on the edge of the couch. Moments later, my eccentric lover plops down beside me, immediately placing his head in my lap and purring like a contented cat.
“Obviously, there’s a lot we need to discuss,” Avery says, emerging from his bedroom and tugging his shirt down. I can’t help but admire his bronze, sculpted stomach. When he catches my ogling, he winks, flashing me a pretty boy smile at odds with the monster I know him to be.
“Someone replaced our memories with fake ones. That same person is trying to kill Emily now, probably because he or she knew that she’d get her memories returned with the blood moon. Case closed,” Tate announces dryly, and with great reluctance, I turn towards my grumpy lover.
I don’t think either of us can honestly say that our relationship is healthy. We hate each other just as much as we love each other. He’s a fucking asshole, but I wouldn’t love him as much as I do if it wasn’t for the hate.
And yes, I know that is all kinds of fucked up.
He’s slightly more muscular than Arsin and Avery, but less so than Helio. Light scruff accentuates his strong jawline and lush lips. Dark hair, longer on the top than the sides, frame a face seemingly hewn from ice.
Fuck him for being so handsome.
Literally, I want to fuck him.
And I kind of hate myself for it.
A strange combination of anger, pity, and satisfaction flows through me when I see the ugly bruises on his face.
“Okay, asswipe, do you have any ideas who this person could be?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow. His lips twitch as if he wants to take me over his knee for sassing him. I can never tell if he’s fighting off a smile or a scowl. Maybe a mixture of both?
“Athena, obviously.” He rolls his eyes as if I’m an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. “She’s always been jealous of you. And she’s in love with me.”
“Too obvious,” I retort, hands clenching into fists. “And don’t be so full of yourself. Not every person with a vagina is in love with you.”
“She’s right,” Sin points out. “Some of them have dicks.”
Tate’s smile broadens, eyes never leaving mine, and I swear I never wanted
