Chapter Five
Elvira
The industrial kitchen of the Kiss of Death compound smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and pumpkin spice, a stark contrast to the usual scents of fried meat and grease.
I swear, the first time Carrie brought me in here the place smelled like a grease trap.
Not because it was dirty or anything, but because they’d deep fried enough onion rings to feed a moderate-size army the day before.
I stood at the massive steel counter, flour smeared across my cheek and dusted on my black apron with the yellow cat eyes over my boobs, while Chains measured sugar with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.
Three carved pumpkins with electric candles flickered from the windowsill, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Plastic skeletons hung from the exposed pipes alongside cobwebs I’d strung up that morning over the windows and on the back side of the kitchen away from anything important.
“You’re supposed to crack the eggs in a separate bowl first,” I said, watching Chains hover an egg over the mixing bowl. “In case you get a shell in it.”
He shot me a look that would have terrified most people but only made me smile. “I know how to crack a fuckin’ egg.”
As if on cue, a tiny piece of shell dropped into the batter. Chains cursed under his breath, his massive tattooed hand looking ridiculous as he fished for the fragment with his pinky finger.
“Told you so,” I sang, sliding over to help him. Our shoulders touched, and I felt that now familiar electricity buzz between us. It was so stimulating I trembled with the adrenaline and sexual energy.
Just a week in the compound, and already the kitchen felt like mine.
The women had embraced my Halloween enthusiasm with unexpected verve, helping me transform the utilitarian space into a spooky wonderland.
Orange and black streamers twisted around light fixtures, rubber bats hung from the ceiling, and tiny plastic tombstones lined the windowsills beside my carved pumpkins.
We continued working. Chains grumbled the entire time, but the man paid very close attention to what I did and followed my lead like he’d been helping me bake for ages. It wasn’t long before the last batch was in the oven, and we started on the cleanup.
“Jesus Christ!” Chains jumped as Salem darted between his legs, nearly causing him to drop the mixing bowl. “These cats are gonna be the death of me.”
“They’re good luck,” I insisted, smiling as Lucifer followed close behind, tail high in the air like a furry periscope. Lucifer stopped and looked up at Chains and hissed before continuing on.
“That’s not what the entire fuckin’ world says about black cats,” Chains grouched, but I noticed he didn’t move away when Salem rubbed against his leg the next time. Progress.
“The Egyptians worshipped cats, you know. They were considered divine.”
“Yeah, well, we ain’t in Egypt.” His tone was gruff, but I still caught him giving Salem soft looks whenever she brushed his ankles.
I laughed, reaching for the cinnamon. “You don’t actually believe black cats are bad luck. You’re just using it as an excuse.”
His hands stilled on the mixer. “An excuse for what?”
“For keeping your distance. From things that might matter.”
His eyes met mine, that steel-blue that seemed to shift shades with his mood. Today they were almost gray. He didn’t deny my observation.
Binx chose that moment to leap onto the counter, making Chains flinch. “Get your damn cat off the food prep area,” he said, but there was no real heat in his voice. And we’d been done for a while. There was only that one batch of cookies in the oven but everything else was done.
“Binx, down,” I said firmly. The cat meowed, then ignored me, as usual.
All three cats seemed to know exactly when I was finished with cooking anything and never did more than streak through the kitchen or rub my ankles.
Once they knew I was done, though, all bets were off.
Chains reached out and gently scooped Binx up, depositing him on the floor with surprising care for someone who claimed to dislike cats.
“I swear, I have no idea how they keep getting out of the apartment. They’re like tiny Houdinis.
How many batches have we done?” he asked, changing the subject as he washed the last of the cupcake and icing bowls.
“Four dozen cupcakes, six dozen cookies. The fall festival at the park is tomorrow, and I promised the kids something special.” I piped the last of the orange frosting onto a cooled cupcake, adding tiny candy corn eyes to make it look like a pumpkin.
“You’re good at that,” Chains said, watching me work.
“Years of practice. Halloween’s been my thing since I was a kid.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Hawk strolled in, making a beeline for the freshly cooled cookies on the rack. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned without looking up.
“Fuckin’ pumpkin fuckin’ spice every-fuckin’-where,” he grumbled, but still snagged a cookie and stuffed it whole into his mouth.
“Worth it,” he mumbled around crumbs before grinning and chugging beer he had in his hand to wash down the cookie.
Then he dropped a quick kiss on the top of my head before leaving.
I felt Chains stiffen beside me. “They do that a lot,” he observed. “Treat you like a little sister.”
“Is that weird for you?” I asked, genuinely curious.
He shrugged, pouring batter into cupcake liners. “No.” Then he frowned. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s pretty vague.” I brushed my hands on my apron before untying it from around my waist and removing the neck strap. “Maybe I’m just that lovable,” I teased, bumping his hip with mine.
“Maybe you are at that.” The words were soft, almost reluctant, but they made my heart flutter all the same.
Binx weaved between our legs again, purring loudly.
This time, Chains didn’t flinch. “My niece, Larissa, had a cat,” he said suddenly, his voice low.
“Not black. Orange tabby. Called him Lucky.” I held my breath, afraid to break the spell of this rare moment of openness.
“She was six when she got sick with leukemia. Larissa had this thing. Every time she went in for treatment, she’d cross her fingers.
Said it was for good luck.” I set down my piping bag, turning to face him fully.
“When things got real bad, one finger wasn’t enough.
She’d cross all of them, both hands. Like maybe if she just had enough luck…
” He trailed off, staring at the counter.
“Chains,” I whispered, unsure what to say.
“She collected lucky things. Four leaf clovers. Lucky pennies. That damn cat.” A small, sad smile touched his lips. “But luck ran out. And, as you say, the universe decided someone or something needed her worse than I did.”
My heart ached for him, for the little girl he’d obviously loved.
I reached for his hands, taking them in mine.
His fingers were warm, calloused, so much larger than mine.
It pained me to think how helpless he must have felt when he couldn’t save his niece.
Quite the contrast with his physical strength.
“It wasn’t about luck running out,” I said gently. “It was about having hope. Something to believe in when everything else was falling apart.”
His eyes met mine, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before. “Don’t matter what you call it. She still died.”
I squeezed his hands. “And you’re still carrying her with you. That’s beautiful. And how you know there will always be a part of her alive in your heart. She made her mark in the world. On you.”
For a moment, I thought he might pull away, retreat behind his walls. Instead, he turned his hands in mine, interlacing our fingers. “She would’ve liked you,” he said roughly. “Your Halloween obsession, your weird-ass cats. All of it.”
The door swung open again, this time revealing Riot with Hawk, again, close behind. “Fuckin’ cookies again?” Riot groaned, but his hand was already reaching for one. “This place smells like a Goddamn Yankee Candle store threw up.”
“You love it,” I countered.
“Me and Violet both love you, little witch.” Riot planted a quick kiss on my temple, snagging two more cookies before Hawk could stop him. “Just because you forgot to get Carrie a cupcake before Ellie ran you off does not mean I’m forgetting my woman.”
“You’re not taking that to Violet.” Knuckles smirked as he took a bite of a cookie. “You’re gonna eat it yourself. You’re using Violet as an excuse to get extra when you know Violet gets all she wants from Ellie. All the women do.”
Riot didn’t even look ashamed, smiling as he took a bite of his cookie.
“Leave some for the kids, asshole,” Knuckles said, but he too bent to kiss my cheek before grabbing a cupcake.
“Looking good, Ellie. Fair warnin’. Caleb’s on the way down.
Kid said somethin’ about gingerbread bars.
” Knuckles scanned the counter until he saw the cookie in question.
A gingerbread cookie mashed into a baking dish, baked, then covered in a cream cheese frosting and sliced.
His eyes got big and the man actually gave a satisfied smile. As he snagged two.
“Knuckles!” I laughed as I scolded his retreating form. A couple more club members visited with similar results, taking half a dozen treats with them. I noticed Chains watching the interaction, something unreadable in his expression.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, but then added, “They care about you. Already.”
“I care about them too.” I smiled back at him before returning to my piping, adding little frosting cobwebs to the cupcakes. “I’ve never really had a family like this before. People who just, I don’t know, accept. Everyone. The way they are.”