Chapter 31
Having a week off—a vacation, Audrey called it—was strange. It was one thing to be ahead on his quotas and take it a little easy but another thing entirely to check out. A good thing though, because Gunnar was weaker than he wanted to admit after the manticore venom and so much blood loss, and Audrey still wasn’t entirely herself.
The night after he’d killed Mateo, he’d walked down the hall to find Audrey staring at her closed door, shaking so hard he could hear her teeth rattling. He didn’t say a word, just steered her into his room, then got her some sleeping clothes from her closet. He’d planned to tough it out on the couch for a few days, but when she whispered don’t leave, sounding almost as broken as when she’d thought he died, Gunnar found he couldn’t refuse her, and didn’t want to, anyway.
After that, they crawled into bed each night with her curled up against him, and Gunnar slept better than in his entire life. Waking up to her sleepy smiles was its own kind of treat.
They fell into other unspoken patterns. He watched her cook, which turned into helping when she offered to teach him. She wouldn’t let him help with the cookies, couldn’t have him stealing her only magic, she’d said with a silly grin. He taught her how to sharpen their various tools and treat skins to leather, one of the few skills she hadn’t learned yet for processing his kills. On the third day of their week, they reorganized the basement storage.
Audrey took a bath every day, because it was vacation, but she left the door open, and Gunnar settled on the couch with a book, so when she came out looking for him, he’d be right where she left him.
The few times he’d left her sleeping alone, even just to take a piss or if he got up early, she woke up screaming, her dreams tricking her into thinking he was dead. She’d cry, he’d hold her, then when she calmed, she’d tell him about the nightmares. Ask him not to leave her; he’d promise he wasn’t going anywhere.
They had one serious conversation about her living at the station; Gunnar needed to confirm living with him was really what she wanted going forward, needed her to tell him when she wasn’t hysterical, and she calmly informed him she had no intentions of living anywhere he didn’t, ever. After, they’d spent a few hours sketching out an expansion for the cabin, speculating how many cookies they’d need to throw at E to get what they wanted.
On the fourth day, they talked about Tomas.
“You’re sure you’re good with this?”
“Yes,” Audrey said, that Esquire tone of hers surfacing. “He’s not to blame. Mateo . . .” She clutched her tea cup tighter. “He manipulated him, used his madness as a distraction. Tomas deserves a chance to get well, and Rina has the resources to get a blood mage out here to help.” Then she cleared her throat, blushing a bit when she added, “And doesn’t Innocence like him? Maybe he won’t flirt with you so much now.”
Gunnar growled at her, but she only laughed—and it felt damn good to hear the sound.
They cooked, ate, read from her books. She taught him Blackjack and Poker, even though she was terrible at bluffing, and he showed her Nine Hands. She accused him of cheating; he told her it wasn’t his fault she was terrible at card games.
On the fifth day, Audrey’s sunshine scent became stronger, and she stared out the window less. She laughed more, and he laughed with her. That night, he watched her sleep and wondered if he’d ever enjoyed living without her around.
It snowed heavily, covering the settlement in fluffy white and a peaceful blanket, almost like the entire town had taken the time to just be for a few days, appreciating all they’d built.
Neither of them felt the urge to leave the little bubble their unique situation presented. They could have gone to the tavern, handed off the insane number of cookies she kept baking, maybe gone for a walk. He figured maybe they were both avoiding stepping back into normal.
One thing gnawed at him though, every time Audrey walked by and he caught himself staring at that space on her spine, right between her shoulder blades. Those marks Theo put on her.
The beast in him, well, Gunnar wagered all that was just pissing. His instincts acting like a bit of a possessive, raging, territorial asshole about the idea of anyone else having any claim on Audrey. He knew he was all of those things, so he kept pushing it away, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big thing. Control. He had control, so the rest of the shit could take a seat and shut the fuck up.
But the itch about it wouldn’t leave his brain or his blood. There was more to it, as much as Gunnar wanted to deny it. First, that shit with Rina—a smack in the face, that Theo’d bribed his way into Nizhny. Sure, she’d said pretty words about how he’d proven himself, but without the archivist’s reassurance, he wouldn’t be here.
Now, knowing about those marks on Audrey’s back, he’d started wondering if she’d needed the same reassurance. Conditions to make Gunnar worth the risk of being around.
In the apartment, before it’d burned, she’d seemed disappointed in his desire to go at it alone. At the edge of the slums, she’d seemed reassured when he’d promised it would be the two of them going forward. Then they’d hid out for two days in the alleys, and then more time at Theo’s condominium in the Eastern Seaboard Conjunct before they’d finally gotten out of the ESC’s borders.
Lots of hours to reconsider or get scared. After all, she’d lost everything. And then Audrey had time alone with good old Theo, which was apparently enough time to talk her into four ritual runes permanently etched on her body. From a demigod. That kind of spell work? Theo had given up part of his magic, his raw power, himself, to put that on her skin. And as far as Gunnar understood, unless Theo died, there was no undoing it. Only an Aperien more powerful than the archivist might unweave the work, and it’d be hard to find one willing to make that sort of sacrifice for a human.
So why?
He understood the hellfire, persuasion, and possession. It made sense, still did. And Gunnar believed Theo did it to look out for her.
That last one, though. Undesired pregnancy.
Did Theo insist? Or did Audrey ask?
Was it the only reason he had her in his life, another bribe to make the risk worth taking a chance on a man like him?
“What is it?”
He blinked up from his coffee mug at Audrey’s voice, no idea how long he’d been staring at the black liquid. It was cold.
This was what? Day six of them alone in the cabin? Gunnar frowned, pushing the cup away, set to brush the thoughts aside—again—but the tremble in her voice, the shadow crossing her scent . . .
No, he needed to clear his head.
“Those runes.” Gunnar lifted his chin in her direction. She went utterly still, caught between refilling her mug and returning to sit with him. Fitting, somehow. “I got questions.”
Audrey swallowed, giving him a shallow nod as she set her steaming mug on the table. She offered him a refill, but he knew the delay for what it was and shook his head. “Alright. What did you want to know?”
“You pay anything?”
“You already asked, I think? That night . . .” She shook her head. “No, Theodore didn’t ask for anything. No binding, no geas. He doesn’t have any influence over me.” Audrey rubbed her nose. “I told him it was too generous with his magic when I had nothing to give him in return, but he insisted.”
“Why?” Gunnar leaned on his elbows, licked his lips a few times as he watched her. Her scent floundered between embarrassment and worry—did she think he was angry? He tried to keep his expression calm, but it was a challenge.
“He worried if anyone found out I was alive, they’d come after me again. It made sense to make me immune to hellfire.” A half-shrug. “I told him that was more than enough, but he said possession and persuasion were . . . well, you know why.” She waved a hand, her tone self-deprecating. “I’m human. I have no innate resistance to any of those things.”
“Sure. What about the last one?”
Her cheeks pinked, averting her eyes and fiddling with her mug. “Just more protection.”
“From me?”
Audrey’s gaze shot up, brow furrowed.
“He figured you’d better be protected in case I ever went feral on you? Theo always thought I should be more grateful for everything you did for me. Always thought I was an uncivilized animal, didn’t he?”
“That’s not true.” She paled, her scent souring. He wasn’t sure with what, her emotions were so tangled up.
Well, that was certainly an answer. He stood. “I get it. Better safe than sorry.”
Audrey jerked to her feet so fast she knocked her tea over. “No, none of that is true, Jonathan.” She struggled for more words, her jaw working, before she gave up and snatched a towel.
She didn’t smell like lies, for all that her scent rolled. Gunnar crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as she cleaned, refusing to look at him at all now.
Ah, so it was her then. She’d asked for the rune, for the protection against him. He scoffed, half a laugh, rubbing his chest. This pretty little bubble of the last few days? Yeah, what a load of shit. All this time, he’d thought she trusted him, but if it was only because of that magic on her skin . . .
The words snarled out of him, low and acidic. “Needed a bribe just like Rina to keep me around, huh?”
Audrey stiffened, anger flooding her scent along with . . . pain? Then she tossed the towel on the table, rubbing her temples with her back facing him. “Is that really what you think of me?”
When she turned, her hazel eyes, those gorgeous eyes, blazed with indignation. Gunnar went perfectly still, instinct warring with logic, because he felt like something critical hung on this next moment of his life, and he didn’t know what to make of the feeling.
But he didn’t like—hated, in fact—the grief peppering her expression, her scent. The way she deflated in front of him.
“After all we’ve been through, you don’t think any better of me than when you first got out of prison and thought I wanted to steal your money?”
When he said nothing, Audrey gave a snarl of her own as she stormed around the table, and he yielded a step. And then he snarled back, realizing he was being pushed into a corner. And fuck that.
Fuck that, because he wasn’t the one not making sense.
He caught her wrists, no pressure on them, careful of her bruises, but he would not let her fucking push him, not without an answer. Not without her giving him a reason.
“Why would you think that!” she all but screamed at him.
“You tell me then, huh? What the fuck am I supposed to think?”
Audrey let out a little shriek of frustration, and he let go as soon as she struggled against him. Her chest heaved like she’d run miles, staring at him like he was stupid. When he sneered down at her, she laughed at him.
“You—”
“You want me to tell you?” she shouted over him, and Gunnar didn’t know what he’d meant to say, only she kept right on talking, her voice shrill. “Yes! I asked him!”
Fucking hells, the wind left his lungs like she’d kicked him in the chest. He blinked a few times, not sure why hearing her admit it was a shock.
“Are you going to ask why? Or do you want to make up another story that paints you as a horrible monster instead of thinking, maybe, just maybe, there might be a good reason?”
Audrey moved closer, suddenly all fury, so angry he felt like he’d lost the thread of the damn conversation somewhere, because he should be the furious one, not her, but he’d never seen her this angry before.
“No?” She tilted her head at him, as if daring him, and when he only sneered again, she scoffed at him. “Fine, I’ll tell you. I asked him because I thought,” she started, then stopped, swallowed a few times. Audrey closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then said, “I asked him because I hoped that maybe someday, if you . . . That you might . . .”
Her expression crumbled slightly, the fire fading from those bright eyes.
“That you might see me,” she trailed off in a whisper and made a frustrated little noise he couldn’t make sense of, and he smelled salt and she was wiping tears, of all fucking things, gaze fixed on the floorboards now. “You might see me as more than an obligation.”
Gunnar stared down at her. They stood so close; he felt her heat, felt her trembling even though they weren’t touching.
It had started that way. He wouldn’t lie, but since coming to Nizhny, protecting her had gone from a debt to a pleasure. A fucking gift.
He hesitated—he shouldn’t, he knew, but he still reached out, catching her chin.
“I don’t,” he mumbled, but he still didn’t see how the lines connected, because she was safe with him if she was an obligation or the best thing in his life. She didn’t have runes on her skin for any of that. “Not anymore.”
Her breathing hitched, her expression softening as she looked up at him. She reached out, flattening and flexing her palm over his heart. Then Audrey ran her fingertips over his neck, then they rested on his cheek and she was up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his.
There was a split second where he was so fucking shocked, he didn’t move, couldn’t. The world narrowed down to her, her soft lips pillowed against his, sunshine and warmth filling his nose.
That you might see me as more than an obligation.
The lines connected, neon, the word more, more, more making Gunnar’s fucking brain stutter.
But just like that, it was over, Audrey pulling back, covering her mouth with a shaking hand as she flattened her feet. Her cheeks flamed, bright red all the way to the tips of her ears, down her throat, her scent flashing cold with embarrassment, because Gunnar hadn’t reacted at all.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped out.
That wouldn’t fucking do. Like hell he’d let her be sorry for that? For the best thing he’d felt in his entire damn life?
Because she was safe from him, from his blood. She’d wanted to be safe from him, sought the protection that meant he could touch her. That he could . . .
“No,” he bit out, the word loud, and a growl, so much so that she startled, but by then he had his hands on her cheeks, and this time his mouth found hers. She let out a surprised sound against his lips, but then she melted into him and whimpered.
Gods, fucking hells, she tasted better than she smelled. Sweet, perfect. Everything about her made the world a brighter place, drowning his senses. Gunnar nibbled at her bottom lip, sucked on it softly when she gasped, pulling her closer, closer. He needed more, more of her. Just . . . more.
So soft, so delicate and tiny, this human woman. He wove his fingers through her hair, angled her head, pulling back to kiss the side of her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, living for the tiny giggle that slipped out of her, right before he found her mouth again, this time their kiss far less chaste.
It only took the tiniest coaxing, and she opened her mouth for him, and Gunnar was lost. Lost on her little kitten whimpers, the way she tentatively slid her tongue along his in reply, the way her fingers pinched his skin as she clutched at his shirt.
The way she utterly, entirely submitted to him at the barest touch.
He groaned into her mouth when her arousal touched his senses, her desire, desire for him. Him.
How long had she wanted him?
Long enough to ask a demigod to make it possible.
“Fuck,” he whispered against her mouth as he relented, blinking down at her face cupped in his huge hands, her eyes closed, her lips already swollen from his kisses. The pretty blush painting her pretty skin. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he nuzzled his nose against hers, then dipped forward, kissing along her jaw, bumping his nose under her ear as he whispered, “You want me?”
Her only response was another of those whimpers, followed by a spike in her pheromones that went straight to his cock. He nipped at her throat, gentle, be gentle, then soothed with his tongue before scooping her up by her thighs. Another gasp, her arms flying around his neck, and Gunnar growled, after her mouth again as he walked until her back pressed against the cabin wall.
It was doing something wild to his hindbrain, his instincts, the always restless beast in his blood. How small she was compared to him, how he surrounded her. How she’d never be any safer than she was right here, right now, with his body between her and the entire fucking world.
She panted now, and he smiled against her lips, licking into her mouth, groaning when she slid both hands into his hair, her fingernails scraping at his scalp.
She had no idea.
No idea what she was doing to him, no idea how he’d craved this and denied himself even the thought, how much he wanted to bury himself into her tight little body and make her scream for him, make her feel better than she made him simply by letting him exist in her orbit.
He pressed his hips forward, rubbing against the apex of her thighs, warm and wanting, and they both moaned together. His hands gripped tighter, his fingers wrapping around her waist, touching. This delicate, beautiful girl.
Maybe she could be his. More importantly, maybe she wanted to be his.
“Jonathan,” she gasped. He let out a low growl, chasing her jaw, her neck, peppering any skin he could reach with kisses.
She deserved a million. She deserved everything.
But then she said, “Don’t,” before cutting off in a whimper.
Gunnar pressed his nose to her throat, her racing pulse, inhaling against her skin. Checking himself, because nothing about her scent said “don’t.”
“What, sweetheart?” Another kiss, gentle, there at that spot behind her ear that made her entire body shiver again, those sweet, sweet pheromones about to smother him.
Her scent shifted, not with fear, but with something close. Uncertainty? Fretting, suddenly, when she’d been falling into him seconds before. He pulled back, finding her eyes pinched shut, her forehead furrowed.
“If this is just an urge for you. . . Please don’t do this if it doesn’t mean anything to you.”
He stared down at her pained expression, trying to figure out what the fuck she was asking him. His mind was blurry, fuzzy, all the blood drained south. Sure, sex was an urge, but it damn well felt like she was having the exact same urge right now.
But asking, “What do you want it to mean?” clearly wasn’t the response she was looking for.
Audrey shook her head, leaning away, and he set her down, gripping his cock, trying to calm himself the fuck down.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry,” she stammered as she stumbled away from him.
“Why the fuck not?” Gunnar screamed inside at the distress flooding her scent, overtaking everything else, blotting out the sunlight.
Did he scare her, was that it? Too rough? Too forward?
She stood with her head bowed, clutching the sink edge, whispered, “Because I’m in love with you.”
Gunnar retreated this time, his thoughts stuttering. “You don’t mean that.”
Damn, did her scent shift. She spun on him, her eyes glassy with threatening tears, but she was back to all fiery anger now. “Excuse me?”
She was giving him fucking whiplash. Scowling, he waved a hand. “You heard me.”
“I tell you I love you, and that’s your response.”
“No one wou—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Audrey crossed the gap, her finger in his face. “Don’t you dare tell me no one would ever love someone like you. I refuse to listen to you go on about being a vileblood and monster. Not right now, after you stopped touching me the second I asked you to stop.” When he tried to speak again, she lifted her hand higher, speaking over his attempt. “Not when a week ago you saved me from an actual monster. Again.”
Gunnar caught her hand, lowering it down out of his face. “That doesn’t mean you owe me shit.”
Her brows knit. “You think I love you because I owe you?”
“Only thing that makes sense to me.”
“Jonathan,” Audrey said on a hard exhale, almost a whine, then rubbed her face with both hands. “Loving you is my choice.”
She searched his face, seeking something from him. If she was smart, which she was, she’d make a better choice, and he couldn’t understand why she didn’t. The bloated silence stretched until she turned away with an exhausted sigh.
“I can’t have sex with you if it doesn’t mean anything to you, Jonathan.” She hugged herself now, closed off. “It would break my heart. I shouldn’t have kissed you, not before I told you.”
The way the ground was shifting beneath him. First, the frustration at thinking those runes were from a lack of trust, but no, they were her hope. A minute ago, he’d felt maybe the best he’d felt in his damn life. Sure, he’d kissed women before, but it felt nothing like that, like her.
And now she was saying she shouldn’t have done it. The regret in her fucking scent, he wished he didn’t have a damn sense of smell.
“It’s fine,” she whispered.
It wasn’t fine, but he still didn’t understand how she went from kissing him to telling him he loved her—she really shouldn’t, it was idiotic, absurd; she was probably just confused—to telling him things were fine. He didn’t know what she wanted from him, aside from the desperation in her scent begging for things to be fine or she might not survive it.
His hands fucking itched to touch her again. His lips were burning, his blood on fire. He’d never wanted anything more in his entire life, but the words that left his mouth were:
“If that’s what you need.”
“Yes,” she said, but it was a question, another one he didn’t know how the fuck to answer, aside from the fact that if having sex with her was going to break her heart, he wouldn’t.
Obviously.
What the fuck had he been doing touching her in the first place, a monster like him? He should have pushed her away, so she’d figure out her mistake sooner. Sure, thanks to some magic, he wouldn’t kill her if he fucked her, a bar so low he almost tripped over it.
“It’s getting late,” she offered, not looking at him.
It wasn’t. It was barely after sunset.
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to take a bath, then get some sleep.”
“Sure.”
Gunnar didn’t know what to do with himself after she walked away from him and shut the bathroom door behind her. He got some water, stepped outside for a few minutes, trying to clear his senses, but when he walked back inside, she was everywhere.
Whatever she needed, he reminded himself as he wandered into his room, flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, gave up trying to understand, because he was chasing after an ending that didn’t belong to him. She didn’t belong to him, with him, any of that.
She was in love with him.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t know what the fuck love was. How the hells was he supposed to deal with this?
Why’d she’d reach for the one thing he wasn’t capable of?
Gunnar must have dozed off, steps on the floorboard snapping him awake. Night in force now, even though it wasn’t that late, just the way the dark crawled in this time of year.
Audrey stood in his doorway.
They watched each other, neither sure of what came next until she whispered, “Can I still sleep in here with you?”
“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. She crawled into the bed, this time her back toward him, and the inches between them could have been miles.
Anything she needed, he reminded himself, and nothing more.