Chapter 13 Colby
COLBY
If you’d asked me five minutes ago, which of Eian’s expressions was my favorite, I would’ve told you it was the frown full of dark satisfaction as he watched me come undone under him.
If you’d asked me three minutes ago, then the answer would’ve been when his face went all slack with pure pleasure as he came inside me.
But honestly, watching his smug smirk seconds after I countered that he’s as much mine as I am his, I think this one is my favorite.
I like it so much that my spent dick even twitches, making a valiant effort for something that will not be happening for at least two to three hours. I’m no spry chicken, but Eian’s in his fifties, I think, or maybe he’s about to turn fifty?
Isn’t that something I should know? Nah, not important enough.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“How old you are,” I tell him honestly.
His reaction does not disappoint, pure insult on his ruggedly handsome face.
“I am not old.” I burst out laughing at how offended he is.
“No, I didn’t mean that you’re old. I mean that I don’t know how old you are, your age.
” I reach up to cup his cheek and give soothing the sting away my best shot by brushing my lips lightly over his.
“And you can tell me while we go wash up, because as much as I enjoyed that—and I want to enjoy it again—” I lower my voice suggestively.
“There’s a lot of shit we need to deal with. ”
“I know.” He sighs and traces a path with his finger from my temple to my lower lip before kissing me back. “I don’t want to get up, though.”
“Me either,” I confess. “Tell me something,” I urge him. “Something you can tell me but you’ve never told anyone else.”
He pulls back and flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a thoughtful little frown. I appreciate that he takes some time to think about it.
“Well, I’m fifty, I think you should know that. My birthday was the day before I rescued you.” That displeased twist of his mouth appears, and I know he’s thinking about how reckless I was, and that just won’t do.
“Thanks for telling me, but lots of people know that, right? Tell me something no one knows.”
His face smooths out, so I know it worked, but he still doesn’t speak for a long time.
“I loved my father and mother,” he starts out, and I’m surprised by how hesitant he sounds.
“If they were good parents, then why wouldn’t you?” I ask when he doesn’t immediately keep talking.
“I don’t know if good is the right word, but Da made me who I am. I know he loved me.”
He breathes in deeply then slowly lets all the air out. I reach over and put my hand on his chest. It’s the right move apparently, because Eian puts his hand over mine and grips it tightly.
“My aunt has told me many times how much she regrets not stepping in when she saw how my ma and da were raising me. She thinks they failed me. I don’t know about that.
I know what I hated about my childhood, and I made sure Bran never had to go through some of the things I did, but I can’t exactly regret it.
I only have this life thanks to them. I only have this family because they taught me how to choose wisely. ”
Choosing family isn’t a foreign concept to me, in fact, it’s the only way I’ve ever had family—I’ve chosen and I’ve been chosen.
“Did they hurt you?” I ask, and I make sure there’s not a trace of pity in my voice, because the last thing Eian deserves is my pity. He’s a formidable man who, no matter where he came from, has amassed a huge amount of power and respect from his men.
And as far as I can tell, he’s done all of that without ever hurting a single person who didn’t deserve it. His definition of who deserves to be hurt might be different than mine, but I know he has honor, and there are so many men who aren’t considered criminals who could never say the same.
“They did,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think they ever enjoyed it, but I know they thought it was what they needed to do to prepare me for life.
And it’s not like they ever broke any bones, spilled any of my blood, or were cruel.
They just had . . . certain methods. In any case, that’s not a secret.
There are a lot of people who know that.
“My father started to teach me how to shoot a gun when I was seven, I think, and I liked it. I was good at it, and got better quickly. That’s also not a secret,” he adds, and he’s even sporting a small smile when he turns to face me.
I melt a little at how he brings our clasped hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, and shifting closer until we’re once more skin-to-skin is inevitable.
“When the Marianos killed my ma, Da gave me an hour to mourn and then he took me out on a hunt for the first time. We went to the Marianos’ house and killed every single person inside.”
His gaze goes unfocused for a moment, like it passes through me, and I know I won’t ever be even close to comprehending what having those memories is like.
“We hunted every man who took part in taking her from us, and he made me do most of the killing.” He pauses for a long second and then it’s like he’s seeing me again.
“I cried for days after, but I knew better than to let him or anyone else see it. The next time I cried was more than five years later, the night after I found Rory and Duffy, after I taught them how to torture men to make them pay, after I tucked them into their new beds . . . After that I cried again, and never since.”
Well, shit.
“I don’t know if I should be glad or not that nothing since has made you cry,” I confess in a whisper.
“I don’t know either,” he says just as softly. “But I’m kind of glad you asked, that you know. That’s weird.” He grumbles the last two words, and again makes me smile so easily.
“Your whole life is weird,” I say as I lean in closer and closer. “That’s why I fit in so well.” And then I kiss him again, soft, grateful, finally done hiding from every feeling he brings out in me. Every single one, more intense than the last, breaks free, and I hope he feels it all in that kiss.
“Sweet Colby,” he murmurs after God knows how long.
“My father told me he didn’t trust anyone but me.
That my aunt and I were his blood and the only ones who knew what really mattered to him, what he wanted to make of this city, so I’m telling you now .
. . You’re not the only one I trust, but I do trust you, Colby.
I trust that you know who I am and why I do what I do. ”
“I do know,” I murmur, praying he believes me.
But with his next words, I know that if I say another word, I’m as good as shackled to him forever.
“Don’t break that trust, Colby.”
It’s a warning. I see it as clear as day in his eyes.
Don’t make me have to kill you.
I take a moment, hold eye contact with him, but replay every single interaction I’ve had with him, every time he’s held Maggie, where he’s shown kindness, where he’s been ruthless.
“I don’t know if soulmates are real, Eian, and I know you and I will probably only ever see eye to eye on two things—family is everything and the innocent deserve to be protected—but what I do know right now is that you’ll protect me. You’ll protect Maggie.”
“With my life,” he swears, and the severity has me swallowing hard.
“I will never betray you.” I sign my life away, and the only thing I feel is relief.
There’s no question, no doubt anymore. There’s only certainty, and safety in Eian’s arms.
But somehow, he makes me feel even safer.
“I love you.”
“This is insane,” I whisper, and hold Maggie closer, rocking her from side to side.
Twenty minutes ago I was getting dressed with a huge smile on my face. I felt like Eian and I could take on anything that came at us, that we’d somehow take the mayor and Lucian down and would live happily as fuck ever after.
Then reality came crashing down.
“It’s only a precaution,” Eian says for the hundredth time. “There’s no way either of us will have our heads in the game if there’s any doubt that she’s safe, Colby. You know I’m right.”
A tiny voice in the back of my brain berates me for basically promising Eian forever, but that guy’s a wuss.
Cowards don’t get everything they’ve ever dreamed of—sure, Eian and his lifestyle might be a different package than what I thought I’d find in my forever man, but the inside is what counts.
“I’m going with them,” Celly adds from behind Eian and smiles sadly at me. “I’ll make sure she’s happy as a clam, and you know Bran loves babies too, as does Nan.”
“Yeah, you told me,” I say, emotion clogging my throat.
Eian might not ever shed a tear, but I’m . . . let’s just say it doesn’t take a lot to make me cry. Well, I rarely cry when something happens to me, but a good book, movie, or touching moment in the fucking mall and I bawl my eyes out.
So when I kiss Maggie’s head again, I might leave a wet spot, who cares? I’ve never been apart from her—while conscious at least.
I wipe it away with my fingers and then set her down in the car seat Bran brought in. Apparently I can’t go out to the car because Eian’s aunt, the mysterious Nan, is in the car and as Eian said, now’s not the time for more revelations.
“Please send me updates.” I sound pathetic as I step back from her, and don’t give a single fuck.
“A picture every hour or two,” Bran says with a kind smile that looks foreign on his face.
I know that’s what Eian looked like when he was young, though I know he probably never smiled like that.
Eventually I’ll be able to separate those two.
I’ll get to know Bran well enough that they won’t even seem like they look much alike anymore.
That thought finally calms me down.
We’re going to make a plan and we’re going to live through this. Even if I have to spend a few days apart from Maggie.
I have no idea why Eian ordered all of us out of the house, but no one asked any questions, so I didn’t either. The roller coaster of emotions is getting to me, and I can’t let it.