The Demon's Half

Chapter 27

Alexander's grin was the last part to disappear in a black mist.

"Come back." I bared my teeth. A few people turned to look at me as if I was going loca. "Cálmate. I'm not talking to you." A guy near the drinks actually took a step back.

Perfecto.
Now I looked like a desquiciada.
But I knew he was still around, I could feel that presence sneaking beneath my skin.

I lowered my voice. "I know you're there." A shadow tightened around my waist. "I can feel you."

"Oh?"

I turned—
No one.

"Where are you?" I hissed under my breath, zipping my drink to pretend I was doing normal-human stuff. "We need to talk."

"Love, you're so needy."

I whirled around again, to find him there. Leaning against the fridge, arms crossed, smirking like he had never left. That same lazy arrogance. That same infuriating grin.

"How did you find it?"

Alexander arched a brow. "You're going to have to be more specific, Little Morgue. I have many talents."

"The painting."

"Ah." He tapped a finger against his chin. "Took me a while to track it down. It was tucked away in a mansion. Whisperwood."

"That's not true," I said. He only watched me. "Logan gave it to me."

"Did he now?"

"You lie and manipulate. You— you—" My voice rose, heat flooding my cheeks. "You probably just plucked the memory from my mind and... Stop smiling!"

"You're right, Brando. Technically, Logan never lied." It sounded like a warning I was too stupid to listen to. "Just like he technically never lied about his sister. Or about Lou."

Ice stabbed through my veins. "What do you mean?"

"Ask him." His smirk widened, as if he could see my doubt, smell it, roll it between his fingers and play with it like a panther with a dying bird. "After all, I'm nothing but a liar."

He was containing his own laughter and I was going to murder him. I tried to slap his horrible looking grin off his face, but he disappeared from my reach. Leaving behind the scent of mahogany. Asshole. Prick. Arrogant pig.

My heart kept doing some kind of panicked, malfunctioning drum solo. I grabbed the nearest bottle and poured a shot. This had to be another one of his tricks. I knew it had to. Logan wouldn't lie to me. Would he? I squeezed my eyes shut. No.
But Logan didn't know about Mia's painting. He couldn't have. I told him about our lives, our childhood but... I never told him about that specific painting. And, annoyingly, Alexander had free access to my brain.
Screw this.

I knocked back another shot, the burn barely registering. I wasn't about to sit here and cry about something I wasn't even sure.
I pushed off the table, tequila bottle in hand, and shoved my way into the crowd. Bodies pressed in on me. The music pounded in my head, making it impossible to think. Where the hell were Alilla and Jade? And why did they just leave me on my stupid birthday?

The tequila sloshed in my grip as I stumbled forward, weaving through the pulsing sea of strangers, searching, searching—
There.

Logan.
Leaning outside the bathroom door, head tilted back in carefree laughter at something Felix said. The moment I saw him, my chest ached.

"Logan!"

His head snapped toward me. "Baby, I was looking for you! Where were—"

I stumbled, and he reached for me, but I recoiled. The movement was clumsy, but I still did it.