Antichrist

Luca. Bile rises from my stomach and swells in my throat as his face flashes through my mind. I’ve done it this time. He’s going to punish everyone in the school—Lila included. My heart sinks when I think of her round face and pixie nose. Lila is everything I swore to protect, and I’d have to go down six feet under before I let that happen.

I push the covers off my body and make my way out of the bedroom, not bothering to change. The silk material feels nice against my battered skin, so unless we’re leaving to go back to Halsin instantly, I’m not changing.

I take my time coming back through the hallway before reaching the stairs. Seeing everything in new light is like waking after a dream. The canvas art that hangs on the walls is gray, dark sepia, and modern pigments, and the plush carpet that curls between my toes feels like walking on clouds. The smell of frying bacon fat makes my tummy rumble as my footsteps become faster. I remember how to get to the kitchen, I think, from last night, but I still don’t know if Niko was serious or not and that this is his house.

The family room is sparse, but unsurprisingly not very welcoming. It has all of the foundations to be a home, but whoever decorated it or lives here lacks the will to do it. Maybe Niko isn’t lying, because this could fit his personality perfectly.

A man stands near the industrial-sized oven with a spatula in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other. His back is turned to me so I can’t see what he looks like.

He turns slightly and I see the outline of his jaw. Thirties, brown skin, and a shadow of a beard.

“Niko said you still liked bacon and waffles. Sit down. I’ve got your coffee dripping.” His tone is calm, the kind you want to tell you bedtime stories.

“Thank you? Where is Niko?”

The man waves his hands over his head. “Gone on his bullshit.” He pauses, turning to face me with eager eyes. Seeing him is like a slap to the face. Not only because he is beautiful—sharp features, straight nose, and pretty eyelashes—but because he’s—“Jer!”

His mouth tilts up in a smirk. “Hey, baby girl. Good to see you.”

“Jer!” I scream excitedly, and my feet move to jump on him, but I stop. Something isn’t right.

I flop back in my chair, tilting my head. “What the fuck is going on? I thought you moved to Chicago?”

He crosses his arms in front of himself, and the distinct smell of burning pig fat registers somewhere back in my brain. “We did. I graduated and then got bored”—his eyes darken on me—“or something like that.”

My mouth hangs open, waiting for him to fill in the missing details. “And?” Jer filled out exactly how I thought he would. God, but did he…

He flicks the oven off. “Shit changed, Mer. I’m guessing Nik will fill you in when it’s time.”

I don’t know what he’s implying, but I go with it anyway. “God, I’m so sick of not knowing what’s going on.”

“Jer, you’re still here…” Niko enters the kitchen from behind me, heading straight for the fridge. He closes the door and looks between both of us while flicking off the lid to his OJ. His gray eyes settle on mine. “What?”

“Niko, what the fuck is going on?” I’m not going to dance around the question.

He didn’t have to save me last night, but he did. Do you want to know why it’s so important for people to save themselves? Because if someone else saves them, it only passes off the deed to the next hand, like a baton during sprints.

“Brother, good luck.” Jer grasps Nik’s shoulder before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss onto the top of my head. “Don’t worry, not gonna steal your girl. Gotta pick up…” He pauses. “See you guys later.”

I can see in the corner of my eye as he pauses at the threshold, only for him to obviously notice Niko and me still glaring at each other.

“Not today. I’ll come back when the sexual tension has been thoroughly penetrated.”

I wait until the front door closes before I think of asking any questions, but instead, I’m locked in a trap where it’s just he and I and whatever questions are laid out in front of us that don’t want to be answered right now.

He crosses his legs at his ankles, angling his head to the side. It doesn’t help when he does this, because now I’m reminded of his razor jawline that protrudes from a face so fucking fuckable that I have to literally squeeze my thighs together and distract myself from the fact that I’ve felt what those lips feel like brushing against my clit.