Devil's Plaything (Playthings, #1) (12 page)

Like he could go anywhere until he knew Julie was okay.

The sound of his blood pumping through his body raced through his ears, drowning out all other noise, and that sense of unreality deepened. He looked down, eager to find something for his mind to latch onto, and he saw the rusty red of blood smeared across his forearm. It must have pooled there as he held Julie. He focused on the smear, imagined that blood trickling out of his beautiful
nebesa
. Imagined the unknown hand striking her. Imagined his sweet, gentle Julie terrorized in her own home, wondered if she’d called for him to help.

“You okay, man?”

The voice was far away, but he realized it was directed at him. He looked over toward the sound and saw the male nurse, dressed in scrubs like Julie so often wore, looking at him with concern. D’yavol curled his lip in a sneer, and fear crept into the man’s expression. D’yavol couldn’t blame him. He’d always had a clinical approach to violence, saw it as a means to an end, an unpleasant but necessary and effective tool of the trade. But now the anticipation thrummed through him like a current, the thought of what he’d do to the animal who’d harmed her the only thing tethering his rage. It was a thin cord, though, and he knew the nurse saw a dangerous man on the edge. He’d hold it together for now, but soon...

He would live up to his name.

P
ain, hot and sharp, pierced Julie’s consciousness. She tried to turn against the feeling and was rewarded with another sharp stab more intense than the first, if such a thing were possible. She groaned and tried to lift her arm, hoping she could maybe press the pain away, but her arm was bulky, heavy, and her attempts to move it only resulted in more pain, this time shooting down her arm.

She felt someone stroke her hair and whisper, “Shh. Be still.”

The voice soothed her, and she realized it was him.

“D-Dya...” She tried to speak but broke off when the breath leaving her chest sent yet another icy-hot stab of pain through her.

“It’s okay,” he said in a calm, soothing voice, his gentle strokes over her hair continuing unabated. “Just rest. I’ll be here.”

Then, his voice more distant, more troubled-sounding, “I think she’s in pain.”

“I’ll give her something,” a woman she eventually recognized as Shayla said.

She felt a tug on her hand, felt something cool entering her veins, and then the darkness reclaimed her.

••••

D
’yavol watched as Julie fell back into a fitful sleep, her skin still that sickly, washed-out color, the drabness of the room seeming to heighten the effect. Most of the rooms in this hospital were two-person, but Julie’s friend had seen to it that Julie was alone, at least giving her privacy. And it helped him as well. He was in no frame of mind to interact with strangers.

“She’s tough. She’ll get through this. I’m Shayla, by the way.”

The doctor’s voice broke into his thoughts. He’d almost forgotten she was there, so deep was he in his head.

“I know,” he said without looking away from Julie, his throat drying when he noticed that the puffiness of her eyes and lip seemed to get worse by the minute.

“Mr. Lawrence,” Shayla said, her tone making him look over at her as she leaned against the room’s small vanity area, arms crossed over her chest, “do you care to explain to me how Julie Manchin, a woman who won’t even kill spiders, who hasn’t shared a cross word with anyone, even the belligerent crazies who work at or get treatment from this hospital, in the seven years I’ve known her, ended up in my emergency room beat to hell?”

Her voice was a whisper, but he could tell it was in deference to Julie. She looked like she would take his head off if she could, and from her expression, if they weren’t in the hospital, he didn’t doubt that she’d try.

“No, I don’t care to explain,” he said, still stroking Julie’s hair, unwilling to break even that tenuous contact.

The doctor sighed and gave him a riotous look. “But she’s not in any danger?” she asked.

D’yavol looked away but didn’t respond, but the doctor seemed to get the message. Not if he was around.

“Look, I have to get back to the ER, but stay with her. I get the feeling you’re the first person she’ll want to see.”

He nodded without looking up, and D’yavol heard the doctor’s retreating steps. Shayla cared about Julie, which was one small measure of comfort.

At least she’d have someone to look after her when he was gone.

He stood and looked at Julie a moment longer before he leaned over her unconscious form and placed a gentle kiss on her hair.

“I love you, Julie Manchin. And I always will.”

He left the room without looking back.

F
our weeks later...

Julie gathered the rest of the belongings she’d accumulated over the weeks and took one last look around what had been her temporary home.

It was time for her to go.

She grabbed the bag and headed downstairs, stopping when she saw Shayla sitting at the kitchen table with her tablet and a cup of coffee.

“Morning, J. You want... Hey, why do you have a bag?” she asked as her brows knitted.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Shayla. I genuinely appreciate it. More than I can say, but I can’t stay here forever.”

“Who says?” she asked, her tone taking that mama-bear edge.

She smiled softly and shrugged. “I do. I need to get on with my life.”

“But you’re still hurt. You’ve barely been out of the hospital for three weeks.” Shayla gestured at the scrape and faint bruise still visible above Julie’s eye, the cast on her arm.

“I’m strong enough, and there’s nothing that won’t heal with time.” Julie sighed deeply, wistful, praying the statement was true.

Shayla pursed her lips, looked ready to argue, but said instead, “I can’t talk you out of this?”

“No. I have to start somewhere.”

“Will you at least stay for breakfast? I’ll drive you over after.”

“No. The walk will do me good.”

“But, Julie, you’re still—”

“The walk will do me good, Shay,” she said, her voice firm.

“If you’re sure...” Shayla said, though her voice and face betrayed her skepticism.

“I am.”

She hated to seem ungrateful, but this was the first step to getting her life back and moving on without... Tears clogged her throat, and she heard Shayla stand, felt her arms wrap around her in an embrace. She leaned into that hug in a way she hadn’t since she was a little, since long before her mother had left.

Since him.

Her shoulders shook as the tears flowed from her, hot and fast. She’d tried to hold the tears in, first when she woke up in the hospital, lucid enough to realize that he wasn’t there, then later, when she’d still held out hope that he’d come, and even later still when she could no longer deny that he wouldn’t. Thought that if she pushed it down long enough and hard enough, the pain would go away, so she’d pushed, and pushed.

She didn’t push now. She let the tears flow, for D’yavol, for herself, for what they could have had, released tears of rage at what he had denied them. Through it all, Shayla held her.

After several long minutes, Julie stepped back and wiped her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t apologize, Julie. I’m your friend. And you’ll get through this,” she said with a firm nod that brooked no argument.

Julie hugged Shayla one last time and headed out the door.

The first mile of the five-mile trek was a blur. Julie knew she was doing the right thing, but the thought of going back to the apartment, every inch of it marked with some memory of him, terrified her. By the third mile, she’d decided it was time to move on, that she’d try to start over somewhere else. There was nothing left for her here, and living with the memories and his absence every day was too much to bear. She approached that spot, the place where she’d first met him, and let the recollection wash over her. He’d always taken care of her; from the very first, he’d proven he’d cared, and she almost dissolved into tears again at the thought that she’d never have the chance to thank him.

The roar of a car engine made her turn her head.

She looked over her shoulder sharply at the nondescript sedan approaching. Her instincts screamed that she should run, and after everything that had happened, she’d never ignore them again. She began to walk as swiftly as she could, looking for a place to duck in quickly and releasing a muttered oath when she realized most of the stores were closed this early on Sunday morning. She looked over her shoulder again, noted the sedan still pacing her, and abruptly turned around and started running in the opposite direction. It wasn’t much, but it would buy her some time to get away.

She ran and ran, her focus solely on retreat, so much so that she was surprised when the sharp squeal of burning rubber pierced her ears, forcing her to look back as the sedan, full with three older ladies decked out in their Sunday best, came to an abrupt stop, the occupants peering at her alarmed.

“Are you okay?” the driver yelled, her expression wary but her voice laced with genuine concern.

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Julie said around gasped breaths and the sharp sting in her chest, a result of both the pain of her injuries and her embarrassment at her behavior. “Just a little jumpy that’s all.”

“Well... okay, but can you tell us how to get to First Baptist?”

Julie gave the directions and waved the ladies off after promises to take care. Just as her racing heart finally calmed, she reached the front door of her building. Not stopping, afraid she might lose her nerve, she entered the building and walked down the hall to her door, unlocking it before she had a moment to change her mind.

Her jaw dropped at the scene that greeted her.

It looked... normal, like the place that she’d spent thousands of days in, like she’d never left, like nothing bad had ever happened here. She’d expected a mess, but everything was its place, and even those cheery curtains had been rehung over the pantry shelf. And there in the middle of the room her cheap table and cheap chairs, still flimsy but more treasured by her than the most valuable diamond. Images of them at that table, laughing, sharing, falling in love, flashed through her mind, poignant but equally brutal because that was all they were, images, memories, the only thing she’d have to rely on as she tried to make it through her days.

Pain again seared her chest, and tears clouded her vision. Coming here had been a mistake, but that, at least, she could fix. As she reached for the knob, a knock sounded. The kick of her heart trying to soar was quickly squelched. She couldn’t give hope even a moment’s thought. To do so would be too costly.

She turned the knob and saw him there as she had so many times before, but this time like a mirage, a manifestation of her deepest desires brought to life. Stunned, she dropped her hand and took a step back.

“May I enter?” he asked, the words common but now imbued with a new depth and longing.

The rasp of that voice, the soothing, gravelly sound that belonged to only one man, so familiar, yet different somehow, softer, unburdened, traveled through her ears and settled in her heart, a place that it, that he, would always occupy.

He looked at her, the question in that beautiful blue gaze, a gaze that could freeze but that always made her melt. But she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak, her mind caught in a struggle between disbelief and desire to hold him close. Somehow she managed a small nod, and he entered and closed the door behind him, his motions breaking the spell and loosening her tongue.

“You cleaned the place up.”

A statement, not a question.

“Yes. It seemed wrong to leave that ugliness here.”

The sincerity of his words cut through her, made her weak in the knees.

“I thought...”

She couldn’t get the words out. Had accepted the truth of them, but hadn’t yet dared say them out loud. He approached her then and pulled her into a gentle embrace, his warmth flowing into her but his arms and body only providing a whisper of touch. Out of concern for her injuries, or for some other reason, she wasn’t sure. But then she felt a slight tremor in his hands, the sensation causing her to look up and into his eyes, deeply, searching.

“I’m sorry. I had to choose, and I had to be sure.”

Confusion marred her thoughts, and as if sensing it, he tightened his hands and asked, “Do you remember what you said to me, that first time at my place?”

She lifted her shoulders and gently shook her head.

“You told me I got to choose who I wanted to be. And when I saw you in that hospital—” He trailed off abruptly and looked away, clenching the fabric of her shirt with his fists.

“I chose who I’d always been, who I always thought I’d be. I chose Devil.” His words faded and his gaze was far off. Then he looked directly into her eyes.

“Kill. That was my only thought. I was going to kill them, Julie, all of them. Rip them apart with my bare hands. And I was going to love every second of it. That’s why I left you. The urge was so strong. I couldn’t sit still, do nothing in that hospital when they were out there.”

“But I needed you,” she said, unembarrassed that the hurt and sadness in her voice was apparent.

“I figured that out... after,” he said.

“What happened, D’yavol?”

“I knew how to find out who was behind it, so I went, asked the right people the right questions, and after some... persuasion, they were happy to point me in the right direction. I found him. Had him in my hands. I expected to feel relief, pleasure, but there was only emptiness. But then, I thought of you, how you make me feel...”

The hope she thought she’d squashed rose again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. In that moment, as I held that man’s life in my hands, I knew that if I killed him, I may as well have killed myself.”

“I’d have loved you no matter what.”

He smiled, leaned down, and kissed her gently on the lips.

“I know, and that’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Not and still be a man worthy of the love you so freely give.”