High Society - Page 54

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he won’t do anything about it.”

“Then maybe that should tell you something about where you rank on his priority list. Wake up, Eve. He will never choose you over his siblings.”

It would have hurt less if he backhanded me.

Titus tried to backpedal when he saw the wounded look on my face. His eyes fluttered for a second. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I meant to say that Enoch won’t need to do anything about Terah, because I’ll handle her myself.”

“Why not? We’re teammates, right? We’re always honest with one another.” The words sounded as bitter as the bile in my mouth.

He closed his eyes tightly. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

I could tell he felt bad for hurting my feelings, especially after Terah had just shoved me down a flight of stairs, but he only said what he felt was true. And maybe it was. Maybe Enoch was more loyal to his siblings than he would ever be to me. I hadn’t been in his life very long, after all. Not that time mattered. In the end, what mattered was love, and love was rooted in loyalty.

Case in point: My arm had just been broken and Titus was the one who came to my rescue, like he always did. Titus was loyal.

I blotted my mouth with the towel and took another drink of water, swishing it around and spitting it out.

Titus caught my arm as I walked by him. “I really am sorry. I’m an ass.”

“No you’re not.” He was about to argue that he, in fact, was ass-material, when I stopped him. “Let’s go eat while it’s still hot.”

He nodded and followed me inside.

“Thanks for helping me,” I muttered, ashamed I hadn’t thanked him for what he’d done yet. Not that thanking him while hurling was an option, but still.

“I’ve got your back,” he said sternly. “Always have, always will.”

I wondered if the same force that brought me and Titus close, that made us fierce friends, was the same one that drove Abram away. Did Victor manufacture the rift between us, or did it form naturally?

* * *

Dinner was quiet. And awkward. And uncomfortable. Almost torturous. While Asa was calm, Enoch fumed. Terah sat quietly and stared at her plate, refusing to eat. She probably didn’t want to dine with me. Well, guess what, honey? The feeling is mutual.

I picked at my plate, still feeling nauseous, while Titus ate until he couldn’t anymore. He enjoyed the food and the tension, watching the Nephilim carefully. Maybe he was afraid he’d miss the spark that made them explode again.

After dinner, we excused ourselves to give the siblings a semblance of privacy. I could hear what they were saying, or rather, what they weren’t saying. Our absence didn’t shatter the silence. At the bottom of the steps, Titus scratched his head and yawned. “I’m so tired.”

I grinned. “Well, yeah. Your belly is full. It’s nap time.”

“I wish they would have fed us like this at the Compound.”

“We couldn’t have trained to become the killing weapons we are without the mushy cardboard-like sludge they fed us. Then what would they have done?”

“Sent someone else and let me live out my life in peace?” He smiled. If only it were that simple. He stretched his arms and let out another yawn. “You ready to turn in?”

“I think I’m gonna go outside for a few. I need some fresh air.”

“You mean you need to avoid sleeping,” he surmised.

“Fine. Yes. For a little while, I do. But I promise I’ll get some rest tonight.”

He quirked a brow.

“I promise.”