17. Lyla

Kicking my blanket off me, I stretch out and wipe away the sweat from the back of my neck. The clock says it's ten, which means I've been sleeping only a little over an hour. I sit up and tie my hair up in a ponytail, trying to remind myself it's not the end of the world that I'm back in LA, even if it feels like I might as well be unearthing an old grave.

Outside, the sounds of the city kick up and remind me that I'm dead in the center of it. Sirens and horns slice through the peace now that I'm awake.

A thump comes from the wall my bed is facing, followed by another. Then, a moan.

"Yes." A woman's voice cries out as the banging intensifies, and I'm reminded of what woke me up in the first place.

Apparently, when Sage said he had work to get done this morning, he meant he was going to let some random woman in the apartment. And now I'm stuck in the room next door, listening to this. As if it's not bad enough to be back in this city, now I have to face the fact that Sage has clearly moved on.

It's a kick in the gut, even if I don't blame him.

We might have been each other's first, but when I walked away, I knew I wouldn't be his last. Still, I don't want to listen to it.

Climbing out of bed, I fish my tarot deck out of my purse. I'm surprised Sage didn't burn them in the trash with the rest of my things after I left—the butterflies included. Instead, he kept them in his tattoo shop.

I don't know if it's safe to read into that.

Making my way into the living room, the moans are harder to hear, and when I turn on the fan, it mostly drowns them out.

I sit at the table by the windows and stare out at the view of the street. Pollution blankets the city, and while some people are probably put off by that, it's a reminder of home to me.

Folding my legs beneath me in the chair, I settle in and pull my tarot cards from the box, spreading them out across the table.

It's been years since I've seen this deck, and I've missed it every day since. The cards are all black and white, with small pops of color on the back of them. And I can still remember Ellie finding them at the bottom of the barrel at a dollar store and insisting I buy them.

Grazing my fingers over the cards, I can still feel her through them. I close my eyes and imagine her smile. I imagine the parts I want to remember. Anything to chase away the images of what happened in that basement.

Fanning the cards out, I take a deep breath. I've been told more than once that reading cards is demonic. People have a hard time accepting things they don't understand, and they've never understood me.

But to me, my cards are peaceful. They're clarity through chaos. They're familiar and calming.

"You found your cards?"

I jump when Sage stops in the doorway, resting his forearm against it and looking down at the cards fanned out on the table. He's shirtless, showing off every inked inch of his bare chest. And there's nothing about him that reminds me of the twenty-one-year-old guy I remember because he's all man now.

His black sweats hang low on his hips, and there's not a hint of underwear, so I'm pretty sure that's all he's wearing. And his hair is messier than it was a couple of hours ago—not that I should be surprised given what I just heard through the wall.

"Found them at the shop." I shrug.

"So you took them?"

"They're mine, so yes, I took them." I go back to my cards and try not to stare open-mouthed at Sage walking toward the kitchen.

If he was a danger to a teenage girl's heart rate when he was younger, then as a grown man, he's a full-on cardiac arrest.

Another figure comes out of the hallway. It's a girl who reminds me of the ones who hung around the clubhouse. She's pretty, but it's hard to tell if it's natural or bought with all the bleach and fake eyelashes. She's wearing a tiny red dress and carrying her heels in her hands. Her hair and makeup are a mess, but I'm sure she was once painted to perfection. I try not to stare at the red mark on her neck as she walks into the room.

Sage leans a hip against the counter, watching the girl as she makes her way through the space. And she offers me a quick smile while barely passing a glance at Sage before disappearing through the front door.

I shake my head.

"What?" Sage crosses his arms over his chest, and it draws out the hard lines of his pecs.

"Nothing." I shuffle my cards, but he doesn't take his eyes off me. "It's just that you didn't even say goodbye. It's rude."

"Didn't know one-night stands required manners." He smirks, probably trying to get under my skin like he's always been so good at.

"I wouldn't know." Planting my hands on the table, I face off with him.

Sage doesn't break my gaze, holding it long enough that I realize I've stopped breathing at some point and my head is light. I take a deep breath and sit back, tugging at the hemline of my oversized T-shirt. I wish I'd thought to put on pants and a bra before leaving my room.

"Why does my father want me here?" I change the subject, not really wanting to think about Sage and that girl after having to listen to them this morning.

Sage glances down to my bare legs while I fidget. "Don't know."

He's lying, but I'm not surprised. He might not be a Twisted King, but he clearly still keeps their secrets.

Sage turns on the coffee pot before spinning to rest against the counter to face me.

I shuffle the cards again, unable to escape his attention. "I don't get why I couldn't just stay at the clubhouse."

It's not that I want to stay there, but watching random guys I don't care about get blown by patch bunnies is better than facing Sage and his one-night stands.

"You never liked that place, and Kane doesn't trust the guys at the club to not fuck you."

"Like I'd let them."

Sage smirks. "Fair enough."

"But he trusts you?"

"Apparently."

"Since your dick is clearly already occupied."

I hate how much it stings to say that, even if I'll never let it show.

We stare at each other for what feels like hours, when it's probably less than a minute. Sage is pure static tugging at the iron in my blood. He pulls me apart the moment I'm in his presence, and all I want to do is draw my cards to get to the bottom of it.

A beep comes from behind him, finally splitting his attention, and he turns to the coffee pot. His back is fully inked. A giant cross sits in the center, stretching the length of his spine, when I've never known him to be religious. His tattoos are windows into the man who has lived a whole life since I left.

When he spins around, he has two mugs in hand, and he walks over to the table and slides one in front of me.

"What's this?"

"Coffee."

"Just coffee?"

"What else would it be, Lyla?"

"I don't know. Poison?"

Sage smirks, and I hate that it has my heart racing. "Guess you'll have to drink it and find out."

I take the cup and feel the heat of the steam on my cheeks before taking a sip that sears my tastebuds right off. But I don't flinch as he watches me.

"Delicious."

Sage narrows his gaze as he sets down his mug. He pulls out the chair opposite me at the table and spins it around, straddling it. And I hate those little quirks that still remind me of him when I know he's so different.

Lifting his coffee, he takes a sip, not flinching even though it's scalding hot.

We sit staring at each other until a door opening at the end of the hallway catches my attention. A man barrels into the room, and it takes me a moment to put together who he is.

Mason is taller than I remember from meeting him at the tattoo parlor last night, and his height's amplified by the low ceilings in the apartment. His shirtless, carved chest is on full display. And his dark blond hair is a complete mess.

If this is what these guys look like when they wake up in the morning, Kane definitely put me in the wrong apartment. Something must be in the water in this part of town because the two of them are distracting, to say the least.

"Where'd she go?"

Sage turns to Mason. "Home? I don't fucking know. I didn't ask."

"She didn't even say goodbye." Mason draws his hand through his hair then glances at me. "Lyla?"

I wave at him, and he looks over at Sage, confused.

"Kane's daughter." Sage takes another sip of coffee. "She's crashing here for a bit."

Mason starts to smile, but Sage's lethal glare has him instantly dropping it. A silent threat I'm used to, given my father spent my entire life keeping men away from me.

"Good to know," Mason says, backing up.

He gives me one final look before turning back down the hallway he just came from.

"So she was with him?" I point to the door, putting the pieces together as I realize Mason's room must back up to mine. "Why did you let me think that girl was with you?"

"I didn't. You assumed."

"You didn't clarify."

"Why would it matter?" Sage folds his forearms over the back of his chair. "Just because I didn't fuck her doesn't make me a good guy. I'm not the same person you remember."

"Clearly." I shake my head and push the cards around on the table once more.

His eyes follow the movement. "You going to draw or just shuffle them forever?"

Fanning the cards once more into an arc, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but something about this space feels all wrong—this city feels all wrong. I can't find my center, and the universe has its back to me. I tip my head back and let out a frustrated breath.

"Never mind," I grumble, pushing them together.

Sage's gaze narrows, and I want to know what he's thinking. That I'm worshiping the devil? That I'm lost?

Maybe both are true and none of them are. That's how it feels most days anyway.

"So you still believe in this shit?" Sage asks, watching my hands move over the cards.

"I guess. Why? Prefer crosses?" I mention the tattoo on his back.

"That was for my dad," Sage says. "I prefer nothing."

I look up at him and his face is dead serious. Loss and grief battle in his gaze at the mention of his father. It's fleeting, but there. Something we have in common after what happened the last night we saw each other.

With the morning light breaking through the window, Sage's face is clear in the glow of the morning. It's hard to not be caught off guard by how he's older but familiar in a way that tugs at my heartstrings.

"Everyone believes in something," I whisper. "Even you."

"Not anymore." Sage takes a sip of his coffee.

I don't know everything that's happened since I last saw him, but where he used to harbor an ounce of hope is pessimism.

"Let me read your cards then."

Sage looks down at the spread in front of me and his eyebrows pinch. I think he's considering it, but then he grips the back of the chair and leans back, smirking.

"Not a chance."

Planting my hands over them, I lean in, and don't miss that Sage's gaze drops to my lips for the briefest second. "How about this, you draw three cards and I'll leave you alone about it and never ask you again."

"Or you can just never ask me about it again." He quirks an eyebrow.

"Superstitious?"

"No."

"Scared I'll figure out your secrets?"

"No secrets to uncover if you know how to properly bury a body."

His statement sends a shiver up my spine. And not because of what he said, but how he said it. How he's changed. How I remember him spilling blood for me, and I have no doubt that bloomed this chaotic energy I sense spilling out of him.

It should scare me, but it doesn't.

Why can I never seem to resist trouble?

"Fine, have it your way." I start pushing the cards into one pile.

"Why do you care? My fate is irrelevant. Shouldn't you be more worried about your own right now?"

If only he knew. "No point when I already know mine."

"How's that?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious.

"I saw the future."

"Again?" He smirks, looking at me like he thinks I'm ridiculous, just like he did the first time I told him that.

"Yes, again."

"And what did it tell you? Seeing as it was so on point the last time."

He's probably referring to the fact that I told him we were destined to be together, and then I ran away for eight years.

"Just because things didn't happen the way you might have expected doesn't mean the cards lied."

He shakes his head, not believing me.

"You wouldn't get it."

"Try me." He tilts his head, watching me shuffle the cards around. "What did the cards tell you this time?"

"For your information…" I roll my shoulders back. "They told me how I'm going to die."

Sage's jaw clenches. "And how's that?"

I push the cards in one neat stack then place my elbows on the table on either side of them. Lacing my fingers together, I rest my chin on my knuckles.

"By falling in love."

Sage smirks. "You're kidding."

I know it sounds insane, but I've seen the proof. And unlike Sage, I trust the cards.

"Wish I was." I rest my hand over them. "Don't worry. I learned my lesson. I'm smarter now than I was back then. And as you pointed out, things have changed. I'll never fall in love."

"Ever?"

"Ever." No matter what kind of flutters I get in my chest. No matter how good the temptation is. I've only been close once, and the man sitting in front of me is proof that it only goes bad.

"Whatever you say, Lyla." Amusement brightens Sage's face. "Enjoy being immortal then."

He grips the chair and stands up, every muscle in his chest once more on display in front of me as he flips it around and slides it back under the table.

"You sure you don't want to know your fate?" I ask him one more time as he starts to walk away.

He pauses just long enough to look over his shoulder to smirk at me. "I'd rather be surprised."