Page 38 of Gilded

LUKA

I take my time changing, trying to get my mind around this new, all-encompassing vortex of chaos inside me.

The sight of her in that fucking dress was an in-my-face reminder that she’s not mine. And that the man who loaned her to me will take her back tomorrow. A man who will use her, abuse her, and crush her soul.

I was already bleeding inside when the sight of those drugs on the counter ripped my chest open. It’ll be good to have someone else here to keep an eye on her. And everyone around her.

I can’t stand to see her so tortured. Especially when I can give her everything she needs—safety, comfort, happiness, freedom. And love too, something I didn’t think I was capable of.

And now I’m trapped between the past and the future. Between following through on my life’s mission of ending every evil fucker I can get my hands on or loving a woman I’ve known for barely a month.

Put that way, the choice seems clear. Then my fucking heart jumps in.

I look at myself in the mirror. “How the fuck are you going to pull this off, idiot?”

Despite what Jairo says, burning down the church still has merit. Only, Jairo’s right about the wedding. The lack of a church isn’t going to stop it. And it won’t keep Zeiger from taking what’s his either.

I refocus on the sound of Malia talking and laughing with Jairo. That man is as charming as he is dangerous, which is why I trust him with my life. And Malia’s.

That thought would settle me a little if I didn’t know how soon she’ll be taken from me.

“What is that?” Malia says, sounding like a happy twenty-year-old for the first time since I met her. I squeeze my eyes closed, aching to give her that life. One where she can experience all that’s been stolen from her. “It looks like a drunk sloth.”

That makes Jairo laugh. I laugh too, before the enormity of the situation closes in.

I need leverage. But it has to be the kind of leverage that won’t threaten Tarik or Zeiger.

I step out of the bathroom and find the living room dark. The shades pulled. I scowl at the wedding dress taking up the entire sofa. I want to burn it, right along with the church.

In the studio, the windows are also blocked, one side lamp on, and Jairo and Malia sitting against opposite walls, Legos littering the floor.

Jairo is all thumbs, making something that looks like nothing. Malia, on the other hand, is turning and snapping pieces together with amazing dexterity and speed, creating what I can already see is a small dragon.

“So, why a snake?” Jairo’s gaze doesn’t move off whatever the hell he’s putting together, but he knows I’m here.

“Beyond the obvious?” she asks.

“Beyond the obvious.”

“It’s a saw-scaled viper,” she says. “One of the four most lethal snakes in the world. It camouflages itself among rocks and strikes unsuspecting victims that don’t see it fast enough.”

I never heard this, but then I didn’t ask either. I stopped wondering about it when I assumed she’d chosen it to represent the snake-in-the-grass analogy.

“They are notorious for their aggressive temperament, striking at anything that approaches them. Their scales have serrated edges, and when they move, they make a creepy sizzling sound.”

She shivers, then shakes herself out of it and continues, but her voice has lost the light edge.

“Their venom doesn’t just kill. It destroys.

It’s both cytotoxic and hemotoxic, which breaks down the membranes of the blood vessels, damaging the ability of our blood to clot, and that leads to catastrophic bleeding, organ failure, and extreme pain. ”

She smiles at Jairo. She’s angled away, so she doesn’t see me. “If I could only get ahold of a couple to put in my father’s and Soren’s beds.”

Jairo barks a laugh. Malia smirks as she returns her attention to the dragon and starts to add wings. “Have you and Luka known each other a long time?”

Looking at me, Jairo says, “The fucker tried to steal my shoes when we were kids. He’s still paying for it.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five.”

“Five?” Her hands stop moving. “So, you knew him when his family was killed?”

Jairo tilts his head. “He told you about his family?”

She nods and returns her attention to the dragon. “It’s heartbreaking.”

Jairo looks at me and lifts a brow.

Malia finishes up the wings and sets the dragon on an overturned Lego container, spinning it around with her finger to inspect it. “I’ve been meaning to ask him about the phantom. I keep forgetting.”

Jairo gives me a what’s-happening-right-now look while asking Malia, “He told you about the phantom too?”

“No, but he and Soren were talking about him, or it. Sounds like whoever or whatever the phantom is, kills traffickers. Is there any way to get a hold of him and, I don’t know, tell him there are some here that need?—”

She gets that splash-of-cold-water look on her face. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s okay, love,” I tell her, wandering in to sit against the free wall and picking up the dragon. “He’s not fragile either.”

She cuts a look at me and exhales. Then she smiles like she didn’t just see me fifteen minutes ago.

“What’s with the shades?” I ask.

“I told you,” Jairo says. “Soren thinks we’re otherwise occupied.”

Malia pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around her legs.

“Maybe you should tell me if I should act differently so he doesn’t suspect.

” Her gaze lowers to the floor, and she picks up a random block, running her fingers over the edges.

“And I guess I should probably know more about it. I’d rather you tell me than him. ”

“You have anything to eat in here?” Jairo stands and wanders toward the kitchen. “I’m just going to make myself at home.”

When he leaves, Malia makes a face and whispers, “I just made things awkward, didn’t I?”

I smile and lift my arm out to her. “Come here.”

Her expression sparks to life, far too bright for her situation. She steps across my legs, and I slide my hands up her thighs, grip her hips, and press my face into her belly.

I’ve never believed in God. How could someone who’s seen and done all I have? But for the first time, I hope he’s out there, because I beg him to watch over Malia.

Jairo whistles as he looks through the fridge and cabinets, and Malia slides her hands into my hair. “Are you okay?”

God, she’s so sweet, it hurts. So open, so trusting, so fresh. She has so much potential. I

bury my face deeper before lifting my gaze to hers. “I’m supposed to be asking you that. Sit.”

She lowers to her knees and looks at me like I hung the moon. I’m humbled. Another emotion I’ve never experienced.

“Do you know why Soren wants to go to your event?” I ask. “He says he hates them.”

The light in her face dims, and I feel guilty for taking any scrap of happiness she can pull out of this dark life.

She lifts a shoulder. “It will be the first gala my father doesn’t attend. He probably wants someone around to keep me from saying something I shouldn’t. I imagine Soren also wants everyone to know I’m his.”

I have to bite the inside of my lip to keep from screaming, You’re not his. You’re mine.

“Is there something I need to know if Soren asks about this?”

I tuck her hair behind her ear. “Tell him you’re…uncomfortable. That you’re having pain.”

Her gaze lowers to my chest. “Okay.”

“If he asks your opinion of it, tell him you prefer to be with one man. Say something like, that way you can give him your full attention.”

She nods but doesn’t meet my gaze.

“We should meet tonight,” I tell her. “I need to get real with you about what to expect with Soren.”

Her gaze finally rises to mine, but she doesn’t respond. She just sighs, and her shoulders sink.

My phone pings with a text, and I glance at my watch, “Jesus.”

“What?”

I lift my voice so Jairo can hear. “He wants to see us. Wants to go over the plans.”

Jairo laughs. “He’s either impatient as hell or thinks everyone fucks in twenty minutes.”

I smirk, and Malia gives me a questioning look. “He means that if Soren thinks we’re already done, then he must not have much stamina. Which means?—”

“I won’t have to spend a lot of time having sex with him,” she finishes.

Well…maybe. I’ll have to broach the subject of erectile medications with her tonight as well.

I stroke her face and cup her cheek. “I’ll stay back tonight and let Soren preen, but I’m only one look away, okay?”

She eases in and kisses me, then leans her head against mine and murmurs, “It’s our last night.”

The pain in her voice tears at me. “I know.”

“Can I see you? After?”

I lift her head and kiss her. “Can’t wait.”