Chapter 22
BLADE
He keeps insisting he knows my mom.
“Just ask Jackie. Please. She’ll stop all this.”
“How do you know my mom’s name? I haven’t seen her since I was a toddler.” I hold the knife to his throat, and he grabs my wrist in desperation.
“She—she… You already killed my whole family,” he cries, but his tears mean nothing to me. “What more do you want?!”
“I want my soul back. John took it. So I’m taking yours.”
At the mention of John’s name, his eyes widen in shock. “John? The little boy Noah…” His grip weakens, and his entire body trembles as uncontrollable sobs wrack through him. “Por favor perdóname por mis pecados.”
A cold sweat clings to my skin as I jolt awake, the remnants of the nightmare still flickering behind my eyes. I’ll never forget his name. Alejandro. My first kill.
This is the first nightmare I’ve had about him since Amelia. For an entire year, his face haunted me every waking moment, a relentless presence that I couldn’t escape. I tried everything. The first few months were the worst—I was plagued by nightmares every. single. night . Insomnia snaked its way into my life and took control of it, my longest stretch without sleep was a grueling four days.
But the first time I saw Amelia, across the dining hall, everything just… felt okay. A feeling that was strange and foreign and unfamiliar for so long. By that time, I didn’t even know it was possible anymore to just feel… content. At peace.
She looked like an angel. My guardian angel sent to earth to make everything better. And she has made everything better. I don’t feel like I’m drowning in my own darkness anymore when she’s around.
The sensation of fingers trailing along my back snaps me back to reality. I turn my body around, expecting to be greeted by her wild bed hair, but instead, Rhys is standing on her side of the bed.
Why the hell was he watching me sleep?
And where’s Amelia? Did she… leave? Her spot on the bed is empty, and it looks like it has been for a little while. I need to set something up so I know when she gets up. I’ll have to ask Asher about it.
Rhys’s face lights up as his touch goes further down—too far down—lingering on my hard-on. Fuck, I don’t mean to be hard, but I was thinking about Amelia and it’s morning wood.
In a flash, I reach out and grab his hand, digging my nails into his flesh and yanking his touch away.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The words, rough and steady, come from deep within my throat.
“C’mon, we haven’t played around since she came into the picture.”
“Yeah, that’s the fucking point, Rhys.” I release his hand, but as soon as I do, he lunges to grab me again. This time, I’m ready. I catch his wrist mid-air, twisting it sharply. I bend his hand back at a painful angle, and I know it hurts because his face scrunches together in agony. “ Stop touching me .”
“Ah, shit!” He winces as I let go, clutching his hand at his side and rubbing it with the other. “You still fucked me when you were with that other bitch,” he says.
“Those were just flings. That’s the difference. And you’re the one acting like a bitch right now.”
“Yeah, well, this new bi—”
“Finish the word. Call her a bitch. I fucking dare you.” My right hand clenches, just itching to punch him in the face. I should punch him anyway for touching me.
“You are acting way too pressed over her.”
“As opposed to what? Being pressed over you? Because that wouldn’t happen even if Amelia never came into my life.”
“Then why did you make me believe—”
“I didn’t make you believe shit.” I get up from the bed, keeping the cover over my waist, and walk to the dresser for clothes. “In fact, I was only fucking you so I wouldn’t have to deal with someone clingy and catching feelings. Guess that plan backfired.” I head towards the bathroom to change.
“But, you said…” He sighs.
“You’re starting to piss me off. Where is she?”
“Downstairs,” he mumbles before stomping out of the room.
After a quick shower, I haul down the stairs. The place is littered with beer cans and trash from some kind of party they had last night.
When I don’t find her in the living room, I peek into the kitchen and find her cooking breakfast.
What the fuck?
“Someone get in front of me in the next three seconds,” I bark, storming back into the living room. A guy on the couch scrambles over. “Why is Amelia cooking? Why didn’t one of these useless sluts lying around do it for her? I told you guys, if she comes downstairs looking hungry, offer to make her something. It’s not that hard. You wanna know how I know it’s not hard? Because I cook for her almost every fucking day!”
“Braden’s girlfriend did offer her. She said she was gluten-free, and Grace didn’t know how to handle that.”
“Are eggs and bacon some kind of rocket science?”
“No, but if she made a mistake and made Ameli—”
“Don’t fucking call her name.”
He clears his throat. “She didn’t want to make her sick on accident.”
I sigh. “Okay. Get this mess cleaned up. Amelia shouldn’t have to stay in a place that looks like a tornado ran through it.”
“Whipped much?” He chuckles.
I grab a fistful of his shirt. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“Hey, calm down. It was a joke.” When I release his shirt, he blows out a small breath and goes to pick up the beer cans. I fucking hate these guys. And I hate the tradition that every Serpent has to live here as they go through college, or I would’ve been in some fancy high rise by now.
“Rhys! Rhett! Actually, just Rhett,” I call. Rhett appears from somewhere nearby. “Be ready in an hour, we’re leaving then.”
I walk to the kitchen and the savory scent of whatever she’s cooking fills the air. “Hey, pretty girl,” I greet, leaning against the doorway.
She glances over her shoulder with a small smile. “Hey. I got hungry and didn’t want to wake you. Although I thought about it, I like your cooking better.”
I’m surprised she’s even able to walk after last night, we went three rounds. But she does look like she’s standing a bit off.
“You shouldn’t be cooking for yourself, angel. You deserve to have all of your meals cooked for you.” I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
“You’re telling me. If I could have a robot cook all of my meals, I would.”
I chuckle. “I can’t get you a robot, but I’ll get you the next best thing. But I have a surprise for you,” I say, just when she’s finished plating her food. “But you eat first and then I’ll show you.” I kiss the top of her head.
It takes her less than fifteen minutes to eat and before I know it, she’s following me to the surprise.
“Where are we going?” she asks, getting more and more antsy.
“You do know the concept of a surprise, right? It means you find out once it’s revealed, not on the way to it.” I chuckle.
We weave through a couple of hallways until we finally stop at the studio. I swing open the door, there’s a creak in the hinge, and I make a mental note to fix it. I want this room to be absolutely perfect for her.
Once the light turns on, it reveals what I’ve been working on for the past couple of weeks.
A fashion design studio. Her very own space where she can come and immerse herself in her designs, clear her head, and just hang out with her favorite things.
There’s dress forms and mannequins, cutting tables, and fabrics of every color and pattern you could imagine lined up on the walls. She steps inside the room with awe in her eyes, looking around. Her fingers brush over the perfectly organized measuring tools and sewing machines. Every single thing she could ever need to bring her designs to life is in this room.
There’s even a corkboard on the wall, to pin inspiration from magazine cut-outs and other printed pictures. Next to it is a dry-erase board with pink and black dry-erase markers. She passes by the sketching table, with a white fur chair, stacks of sketchbooks, and tons of pencils and colored pencils.
I may have been browsing Pinterest a little too much over these past few weeks for inspiration.
The whole room has a pink and white theme, even one of the sewing machines is pink. I put thought and meticulous care into every detail of the room for her.
“Do you like it?” I ask from the doorway, and the question seems to bring her back to reality.
“Like it?” she breathes out. “I love it!” She comes over to hug me, almost knocking me over in excitement. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” she says into my chest as I rub her back through the hug.
“This is one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. It’s not even about the price, which I’m sure was massive—it’s the thought that someone saw something I needed and even went out of their way to customize it to what I’d like. I haven’t had anyone do that for me since my mom brought me a custom sewing machine when I was twelve. And all of your choices were right, it’s everything I would have chosen myself if I could have anything I wanted in a studio. Sometimes it feels like you know me better than anyone else in my life does.”
I tip her chin up to look at me. “That’s because I care to get to know you better than anyone else in your life does. I hang on every small little thing I can find out about you and store them in my memory as well as I know the alphabet. You’re as important to me as the alphabet is, Amelia.”
···
“Where to?” Rhett asks from the intercom of the front seat of the red Mercedes Maybach, the pop car we use for all our basic errands. The privacy screen is up at the moment, separating the front and back seat, so we communicate through the intercom.
Usually, Rhett and Rhys sit in the front, taking turns driving, while I sit in the back. Right now, Amelia and I occupy the back seats while Rhett drives. I made sure Rhys didn’t tag along—his blatant jealousy towards my relationship with Amelia makes me uneasy, and I don’t want him anywhere near her anymore.
Did he really think I would fuck him right when Amelia was downstairs? Even if this were a parallel universe, I still wouldn’t cheat on Amelia, and I definitely wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk getting caught.
“I know of a cafe that specializes in different dietary needs. A member I met a while ago has a wife who owns it. I’m texting you the address now.”
“Why are we going to a gluten-free cafe? I already ate breakfast,” Amelia asks.
I place my hand on her thigh, my thumb gently tracing circles over her skin. “To get your robot.”
When we arrive, the three of us head inside, with me opening the door for Amelia in both the car and cafe.
There’s no wall between the kitchen and dining area, so I sit back for a few minutes, observing the workers until I pick out the one who seems the most passionate. Her smile is genuine, and she doesn’t take the few shortcuts I noticed the others getting away with.
I walk up to the owner, a woman in her mid-forties standing behind the front desk signing some papers. “Hey, Sarah.”
“Oh hey, I remember you,” she says with a smile. “How can I help you?”
“Can I talk with her?” I point to the woman I picked out.
Sarah looks hesitant but says, “Yes, of course. That’s Julie. She’s married to Jet. He’s a Serpent too.”
I’m not sure if she relayed that information to try and intimidate me or to give Julie credibility, but all it did was give me more leverage to get what I want.
Sarah leads us to a back room lined with takeaway trays and plastic utensils, Rhett staying in the lobby area. The moment Julie lays eyes on Amelia, her mouth parts in surprise. My brows knit together in suspicion, and I instinctively wrap an arm protectively around Amelia’s waist, pulling her closer.
“A-Amelia?” Julie speaks just above a whisper.
“How do you know her name?” I question, a little rougher than I intend to.
“She looks just like her mother, Aurora. We were close, but we got disconnected shortly after Amelia finished her toddler years.”
Amelia’s face immediately lights up, her hazel-green eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and awe. The smile that makes its way across her face is a sight I could look at forever.
“What’s this about?” Julie finally asks, tensing up as she looks between us.
“Four thousand a week,” I offer. You’ll come to my house four days a week to be Amelia’s private chef. Breakfast and dinner, lunch only on no class days. Everything gluten-free.”
“What?” Amelia chimes in. “I can’t accept—”
I tighten my grip on her waist and lean down to whisper in her ear. “I think you’ll accept whatever I give you.” I smirk when I see a shiver run down her spine, goosebumps lining her skin. Fuck, I love when her body can’t help but react to me.
“Um… I don’t know, anyway. I’ll have to ask my husband. He probably wouldn’t want me in and out of that mansion. I remember our days there. It gets wild,” Julie says, chuckling nervously.
I sigh. She’s wasting my damn time. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and dial a number, placing it on speaker.
“What do you need?” John answers after a couple of rings.
“Hey, John,” I emphasize his name so Julie knows who I’m speaking to. “Little predicament. I’m trying to get Amelia a chef, but the lady is refusing. She works at Ambrosia, and I think her husband’s name is—”
Julie’s eyes widen in alarm, her pupils dilating as she frantically waves her hands. “No, no, no,” she stammers, her voice rising in pitch. “There’s no need to tell him that information. I’ll do it.”
“All settled, then?” John asks.
“Yup. Thanks, John.” I hang up. “Take the keys and go wait in the car,” I direct towards Amelia. She flashes an apologetic smile at Julie before leaving.
While Amelia was eating breakfast, I had Harvey draw up a contract for Julie and send it to me. He’s a bastard, but he’s good at his job. Well, not that good, since he accidentally sent me an extra video along with the contract that I don’t even wanna open.
Once Julie finishes signing the contract, Rhett and I make our way back to the car. I seize the moment to confide in Rhett, something I couldn’t bring up with Amelia around. “What’s wrong with your brother?”
Rhett looks puzzled. “What do you mean?” he asks, glancing over at me.
“This morning,” I continue, frustration lacing my words as I remember what happened. “He tried grabbing my dick. Practically begged me to fuck him and acted like he wanted to be with me or something.”
His face darkens with shock as we reach the outside of the car. “Ohh, now it makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” I ask, noticing how he rubs the back of his neck, a telltale sign that sets off alarm bells in my mind. “Rhett, if you don’t want someone to know you’re nervous, maybe don’t rub your neck immediately after they ask you a question. That’s like manipulation 101.”
“Sorry, I didn’t take that class. Do they offer it at Crestview?”
“You can’t sarcasm your way out of answering. What makes sense?” My tone sharpens, to signal to him that I’m not playing around.
“He’s just not… he could be a little nicer to her, that’s all.”
“Son of a b—why didn’t you tell me?” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll handle him.”
Rhett nods, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom, and runs back inside.
In the car, Amelia sits with her arms crossed, and I can feel the frustration radiating off her as she speaks up, “That was mean, and she seemed nice. How come you always have to do that?”
“Do what? Make decisions for you? Exude my dominance over you? Because you like it.” I slide my arm around her.
“No, I don’t.”
I study her, waiting for the telltale sign that she’s lying. At first, I don’t think it’s going to come, but a second later, she crinkles her nose.
“Come closer.” She leans into me and I whisper in her ear. “If you don’t like it, how come you always do what I say? How come you always get turned on by listening to me, and letting me lead? Like coming closer, with no hesitation at all? Your body just does what I say without even thinking. See, I think you do like it. In fact, I think you like it even more when I use force.”
Her lips press into a tight line, her silence speaking volumes. I raise an eyebrow, slightly amused. “What, no arguing?” I prompt. Instead of responding, she exhales a breath and averts her eyes.
I chuckle softly at her non-response. “Thought so.”