Chapter 17 #3
His gaze was intense, the way it bored into mine, and we sat perfectly still, the weight of the moment settling onto our shoulders and sinking into our beings.
He was telling me something without coming right out and saying it, and his message was crystal fucking clear.
The men of the Iron Wraiths were his ride-or-die friends. More than friends, more than family, if there was such a thing.
“Ever hear the proverb ‘blood is thicker than water?’” he asked.
“Yes, but I know that’s not the whole thing. Something about covenant or something, something,” I said.
He smiled and he said, “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” he quoted.
I nodded.
“They’re your covenant,” I murmured.
He nodded slowly. “They’re indeed my covenant, and I need you to never forget it,” he said.
I nodded carefully.
“I won’t,” I breathed.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“You know, there’s something else about this little dynamic between you and me,” he said, motioning between us with a forkful of pasta before taking it into his mouth.
“What’s that?” I asked, as my curiosity had once again been sparked.
“My sources with the police tell me that you did fantastic today,” he said. “The police one hundred percent believe you.”
My eyebrows went up.
“You maybe could have led with that,” I said, and he laughed again, that rich and boisterous sound.
“What would the fun in that be?” he asked.
“I’m beginning to think you love to torment me,” I said with a soft smile, because honestly, there was no beginning. I was just being charitable, throwing that in there.
I took a bite of my pasta then, now that it’d properly had time to cool and the salad was done.
For real, though, that was by far the best Caesar I had ever eaten.
A perfect balance between salty, the bite of lemon juice, married with all the other flavors, and the cool, crisp romaine was to die for.
He chuckled at that and shook his head. “Be grateful you got me and not Torment. That’s more his speed, and he’s a million times worse than me.”
“You know, you’re not exactly doing much to really sell me on wanting to be around these guys.” I arched a brow, and he laughed at that, lightly this time.
“I’m not trying to,” he said. “These guys are my brothers. I’m not saying they aren’t assholes – most of us are, and with gusto – but we’re more than that, too.
On that, you’ll just have to see for yourself, given time.
You don’t have to like them, you just have to tolerate them.
Because hard line, they aren’t going anywhere. ”
“I get that,” I said softly. “I suppose that makes me disposable?” I ventured, knowing that I was more than likely going to hurt my own feelings by even asking.
“Not at all,” he said, reaching out and stroking my cheek lightly with his thumb. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that about yourself again, either. We clear?”
I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to look him in the eye.
“I’m serious,” he said, catching my chin and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were the softest I’d ever seen them when he looked at me, and it rendered me speechless. The sincerity in them had me feeling like I somehow lived in the upside-down. There wasn’t any other description for it.
“You growing soft on me?” I asked.
His smile was a cutting one, and he let me go, ordering me with a false, playful sense of sternness, “Eat your dinner.” I took another bite, snickering around it.
“Wouldn’t dare risk that punishment again,” I said, rolling my eyes, and he smirked.
“Tonight’s not about punishment, Kitten,” he said. “It’s about reward.”
“There goes my curiosity again,” I murmured, and he smiled genuinely this time.
“Finish your supper, and then see what I have in store.”
“Mm.” I nodded and relished the delicate buttery wine sauce with its slightly searing bite of garlic and lemon, which complemented the salad. The whole meal was a perfect balance, if a little heavy being pasta, but I could cheat every once in a while.
The meal concluded with us throwing playful little barbs at one another, and things felt… almost like they were achieving a sort of normal between us.
I liked it.
“What are you doing?” he asked when I got up, my dishes in hand.
“Taking my dishes to the sink to wash them,” I said.
“No way.” He grasped my wrist lightly. “I’ve got it. It can wait until later.”
I shook my head. “I’ll help you. It’ll take no time at all. My mother would be horrified if I left dishes in the sink for any length of time.”
He cocked his head curiously and took the plates from me, but he didn’t argue, surprisingly enough. He just gathered his and took them to the sink to rinse.
I went over, my heels clacking on the expensive slate tiles of his kitchen floor – which was a bold choice. One dropped pot or pan was apt to shatter one or many if it struck just right.
I opened the dishwasher, and he rinsed and I loaded. It was nice in a quiet, domestic sort of way – and I appreciated getting it done. I hated clutter as much as my mother, and apparently as much as he did.
When the final dish had been loaded, and the last lid had been put on a container for leftovers, I sighed contentedly.
He gave the sound a wry little smile as he opened the fridge to put the last container of leftovers away.
“I abhor clutter he said.”
“What a coincidence,” I murmured. “So do I.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.
“Thank you for the help,” he murmured. “It was nice.”
“Of course,” I said.
We stood like that for a little while, lost in each other’s eyes, and I honestly didn’t know what to make of it. It certainly didn’t feel anything like no strings attached, but then again, I’d never done anything like it before and wasn’t sure how that all worked. I guess I was still learning.
“Now onto your reward,” he murmured and drew me along with him to the bottom of the stairs.
“I thought dinner was the reward,” I said softly.
He shook his head lightly, eyes locked on mine, and said, “Dinner was because you needed to eat dinner.”
I laughed lightly at that and said, “Well, it certainly was a treat and very good, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said at the top of the stairs, and then he turned me around and marched me ahead of him into the soft golden glow of his bathroom.
It was hot in here, but that was because of the multitude of glittering candles along counters and on a low stool at the foot of the tub. The amber glow warm and inviting.
He kneeled at my feet and took up my heel, slipping my shoe off one foot and then the other.
I wore a khaki wide-leg pants set and a cream satin blouse, the outfit simple and tasteful for a real estate setting.
I tried my best to dress in warm neutral colors for showings so that the house could be the star of the show.
Plus, I just didn’t go for a lot of brights – it just wasn’t in my wheelhouse to be ostentatious.
I steadied myself on Corbett’s shoulder and let him take my other shoe off.
“Wait right here, don’t move a muscle,” he ordered.
I nodded, mute, curious as to what all of this was about.
He ran the tap, fingertips in the flow of water until he was satisfied with the temperature, then added a stopper to the tub before drizzling some potion from a cut-crystal bottle into the bottom.
An explosion of bright peach scent filled the bathroom, with something lightly floral underneath, enhancing the rich smell of what I considered sunshine as it crept to the ceiling, raised on the golden candlelight.
“That smells amazing,” I complimented.
He smiled and came back over to me, turning me to face the mirror so I could see myself, then standing behind me, and eyeing my reflection with an intensity that bordered on frightening.
He gathered up my long hair and pulled the simple comb, holding it back from my face from just behind and high up by my temple.
“You have a way about you, you know? Elegant and old-fashioned. I like it.”
I blushed faintly at the praise as he continued to gather and twist my hair.
There was a claw clip, a faux tortoiseshell, sitting on the edge of the sink in front of me.
He took it up, holding it between his lips as he put some final twists in my hair using both hands, scraping some errant strands back from my face before quickly taking the clip from his mouth and pinning it in a pile at the back of my head.
I stared at ourselves in the mirror and couldn’t help but think that in another life, with a different set of attitudes, we would have fit, like two puzzle pieces meant to nest together. Not only that, but we could have been a powerful couple and run our own little empire.
Corbett Prescott may be an asshole, and a control freak – but I was starting to find that he had a softer side, something kept secret and viewed as a vulnerability.
It was as though these sweet moments between us, when he spoiled and held me, were something he had always wished for but had never received, and that made my heart squeeze and flutter with a broken little ache for him in my chest.
“What is all of this?” I asked curiously, after finding my voice. He nuzzled behind my ear and pressed a light kiss there, which made me shudder. He smiled as he reached in front of me and plucked the button through its hole at my collar.
“Just relax for me,” he whispered, and his voice took on that timbre that just made me want to melt.
“Okay.” I decided to trust him, as he took his time undressing me, kissing me, and running his warm hands over my skin as he swept the cloth away and the tub filled.
I had some idea of what was in store, but not really.
With the food still warm in my belly and the carbohydrates starting to make me a bit sleepy, I was indeed beginning to relax, and the bath with its mound of fragrant bubbles building…
well, let’s just say I felt due for a treat and that looked downright divine.