Chapter 20 – Bells
BELLS
The smell of garlic and butter filling the penthouse makes my stomach growl the second the elevator doors open.
"Shut up, Rex," I say preemptively.
Rex glances down at me. "An entire tin of dick-shaped cookies weren't enough?"
"Biscuits. They were mostly air. Not all of us can live off spite, you know," I say to him, but I'm grinning.
Phoenix is in the kitchen, his blond mane tied back in a messy bun that's already come halfway undone, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon.
"You cooked," I say.
"I cooked," Phoenix confirms. He grins over his shoulder at me. "Carbonara. Raf's at the store grabbing wine."
Rex moves past me without a word, heading for the hallway. The chain between our wrists goes taut.
"Hey." I tug.
He stops. Turns his head just enough that I can see the edge of his jaw beneath the mask.
"Food first?"
"Shower first."
"I need to change too." I lift my cuffed wrist. "We doing this again?"
Rex stares at the chain, then at me. His expression turns a fraction of a degree warmer than the permafrost I'm used to.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bells."
It's the way he says it.
Not flat, for once.
"Guess if you could trust me today, I can trust you," I murmur.
"Don't make it fucking weird."
I snort at that and fish a tiny key out of my hoodie pocket—Jamie slipped one to me when Rex wasn't looking, because Jamie thinks of everything and apparently he has an endless supply of things like this—and unlock both cuffs.
The fuzzy cuffs drop into my palm.
Rex rubs his wrist. The skin underneath is slightly red from hours of wear.
"You're free," I tell him. "Don't make me regret it."
He gives me a look that says I will absolutely make you regret it and disappears down the hallway.
I head for my room—Rex's room, the fortress, whatever—and lock the door behind me.
The binder comes off first.
Fuck.
The relief is instant and staggering. Like taking a full breath for the first time in hours. I peel the compression fabric away from my skin, hissing at the red marks underneath. My ribs ache. My breasts ache. Everything aches.
I strip the rest of the way down, grab a clean oversized t-shirt from the pile Phoenix bought me, and head for the bathroom.
The silicone cock gets rinsed in the sink. Warm water, gentle soap, the whole routine I've perfected over years of maintaining this facade. I shake off the excess water and—
Actually…
It's clean now.
And slightly sticky from the water.
And I'm in a mood.
I pull on the t-shirt and boxer shorts, grab the cock, and pad barefoot down the hallway to knock on Rex's door.
"What," Rex says from inside.
I push the door open. He's changed into a fresh black shirt and black jeans—shocking—and is sitting on the edge of Rafael's bed, running his fingers through his damp hair.
"My dick's clean," I announce, holding it up.
Rex stares at me. Then at the six-inch floppy silicone cock dangling from my hand.
"Congratulations."
"I'm just saying. Since you were so concerned about lint earlier."
"I wasn't concerned. I was horrified."
"Tomato, tomahto." I wave it around like a pointer. "You know, for a guy who literally had his face buried in my—"
"Do not finish that sentence."
"—pussy, you'd think a little silicone wouldn't scare you."
"Nothing about you or the weird shit you do scares me," Rex mutters, standing up and moving toward the door. "You horrify me. There's a difference."
"Liar."
He tries to walk past me. I block the doorframe.
"Move."
"Look me in the eyes and tell me I don't scare you."
"Move, Bells."
"Say it. Out loud."
He narrows his eye at me. "Are you quoting Twilight?"
"Aw. You've seen Twilight?"
He curls his lip at me with a low growl.
There's the Rex I know and love.
Um. Not… love.
I brandish the cock toward him like a sword to distract myself from the sudden heat in my ears. He rears back. "Ha! You flinched!"
"I didn't fucking flinch, you psycho—"
He lunges at me to confiscate my new weapon. I swing at him again and the slippery dick shoots out of my hand.
Rex ducks.
The silicone dick sails over him in a beautiful arc, hits the ceiling with a wet thwap, and sticks there.
We both look up.
It's just... hanging there, stuck to the ceiling by the flat base by whatever residual moisture was left on the surface.
"Huh," I say.
Rex keeps staring at the cock on the ceiling. Then at me.
"Get it down," I tell him.
"No."
"Rex."
"I am not touching your rubber cock."
"It's silicone."
"I don't care."
"You're taller than me!"
"Not my problem."
I jump. My fingers brush the tip but I can't get a grip. The ceiling in this place is stupidly high. Alpha-sized ceilings for alpha-sized assholes.
I jump again. Miss by an inch.
"You could help," I grunt, mid-jump.
"I could," Rex agrees, not moving.
I land, panting. The cock sways mockingly above us.
Fine.
"PHOENIX?" I call down the hallway. "CAN YOU COME GET MY DICK OFF THE CEILING?"
Dead silence from the kitchen.
Then footsteps. Big, heavy, confused footsteps getting closer.
Phoenix appears in the doorway, wooden spoon still in hand, apron still on, face arranged in an expression of such profound bewilderment that I wish I had a camera.
"Can I..." He looks at me. Looks at Rex. Looks up. "What the fuck?"
"My dick's on the ceiling," I say calmly.
"Your..." Phoenix's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. His eyes track upward to the silicone cock stuck to the ceiling like some kind of avant-garde art installation. "How?"
"I threw it at Rex's head. He ducked."
Phoenix looks at Rex. "Why was she throwing her dick at your head?"
"Because she has fucking rabies," Rex says flatly, walking out. "We've established this."
Phoenix scrubs his free hand over his face. "Okay. Just—hold on." He sets the wooden spoon on the dresser, reaches up, and plucks the silicone cock off the ceiling with one easy grab.
"Here," he says with a grin, handing it to me. "Giant alpha privileges have to come in handy sometimes, right?"
"Thanks. Don't rub it in."