Chapter 14 Cade
CADE
The blow job, coupled with the movie, puts him right back to sleep, but I don’t mind it. I just hold him and inhale him, thinking about what I’ll do to the people who got him into this mess. How I plan on using those knives in my collection to tear them apart.
I’d like to hear them scream.
I stroke Ansel’s back, idly wondering if this side of me might scare him. Sounds stupid, given how we met, but Ansel isn’t like me. He isn’t built for this life.
The terror on his face as Samson held a gun to his head hasn’t left me. It haunts me every time I close my eyes.
No. My butterfly is too innocent for the reality of what we do. Of what I am. I can tell him bits about The Firm, but he doesn’t need to know the gritty details of what I do with those letters, the vile things I enjoy.
I can shield him from it.
“Mm,” Ansel says, waking up slowly and rubbing at his eyes. Adorable. Even sleep-disheveled, he’s fucking cute. “I slept again.”
“I’m glad. You’ve been through a lot. You need it.”
He sighs and nuzzles into my neck. “I have, but so have you. Being tied up and tortured…”
I let out a snort so loud I choke. Slamming my fist against my chest, I try and force it to dislodge. For fuck’s sake. A popcorn kernel is apparently trying to kill me. If it takes me out, I will die very unwillingly.
When I finally regain my breath, I see Ansel glowering at me. “What? You were tied up and tortured!”
I swipe at my eyes, glad there’s no more popcorn to choke on. “There was no torture involved, butterfly. Everything that happened was magnificent. Your torture was foreplay.”
He smirks, ducking his head. “Only you would think that, I swear.”
“I do enjoy pain.”
“Seems so.” He reaches over and twists my nipple, making me groan and shift my hips up.
“You keep that up and I’ll come.”
“Mm, maybe I want that.” He says it on another yawn, and I can’t help but grin at how cute he is.
“How are you feeling now?”
“A lot better. Are the twenty-four hours up?”
I nod and then help him stand. As he does, his stomach growls, and he rubs it. It’s a family dinner tonight, and even Candace being there isn’t going to stop me from taking Ansel.
I want him to get to know the others properly…especially as they didn’t give the best first impression. Meeting your boyfriend’s family usually involves fewer punches and guns, but we can’t hit perfection every time.
Also, he’s not your boyfriend yet.
A mere technicality. I just need time. Time and wooing.
Starting with dinner.
“You’re hungry.” I throw my arm around his shoulders and lead him toward the door. “Come on. Jules always makes the best dinners. He’s Matthias’s cook, but he’s coming over tonight because Wylder’s cook is out for the week.”
“Of course you have a cook. Or should I say, cooks, plural?”
“Meh. Wylder’s cook is all right and doesn’t really count as a great chef. But Jules is. You really won’t want to eat anywhere else once you’ve tried what he makes.”
Ansel hums, intrigued. “What are we having?”
“Jules always insists it’s a surprise. He refuses to tell us until it’s on the actual table.”
“That’s interesting. I’d assume he’d get approval first.”
I snort at that. “Oh, he doesn’t give a fuck about what we want. He just makes what he feels like making, and we haven’t complained yet.”
“Given my usual dinner options are ramen or cereal, I don’t think I will either.”
My chest tightens again. Fuck, I just want to spoil this man. To take such good care of him that he’ll never want to leave me.
Huh. That’s not a bad idea. I think I’ll do just that.
Ansel stays tucked under my arm as we walk to the dining room. His muscles tense the closer we get, making me haul him to a stop.
“What?” He blinks up at me, confused. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes.” I cup his face in my hands. “You’re nervous. I don’t like it.”
He gives a small laugh. “Can you blame me? My first meeting with your family didn’t exactly go well.”
His terrified eyes flash before me, and I snarl. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve punched Samson and Dalton once already, but maybe I need to go hit them again.”
I step away to do just that, but Ansel stops me with a tug on my arm. “Wait, what are you talking about?”
I wince, remembering my decision not to expose Ansel to…all my violent urges. Not right away. “Um, I might’ve pounded on them a little? Not much. They were pretty sorry about it, so…”
My voice trails off as Ansel pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Cade, that’s not what I meant. When I said it didn’t go well, I wasn’t referring to them hitting me, or even holding a gun to my head.
I meant the fact that I’d kidnapped you and held you hostage.
They’re never going to like me after that, especially if you’ve been going around punching them. ”
I can’t help it; I grin. “Butterfly, that’s not what you need to be worrying about.”
Ansel’s expression falters. “It’s not?”
“Nope,” I say cheerily, tucking him back under my arm and marching him down the hall. “You kidnapping me is all in the past. Besides, technically, I’ve kidnapped you, so that makes us even.”
“What about the punching? I don’t want to be causing issues for you guys.”
I press a kiss to his hair, holding back my laughter. “Listen, if a week passes and no one has punched someone, then it’s because we haven’t seen each other.”
“Does that happen often? Not seeing each other, I mean.”
“Not really. We’re close. Have to be given what we do.”
“You mean…with The Firm?”
His tone is leading. I know he’s curious about what The Firm actually does in the shadows, and I don’t blame him. Up until yesterday, he thought we were just a myth. Him and half of St. Dismas.
It’s how we like it. It’s harder for others to track you down for their own bullshit reasons if they aren’t even certain you exist.
“Yeah.” That’s all I say. I don’t want to go into everything, not yet. Not until I’m sure it’s not going to send him running. “Anyway, what you should be worrying about is them making a good impression. They’re the ones on display tonight. Not you.”
He hums. He doesn’t believe me, but that’s okay. He’ll get it in the end. My brothers might not be sure about Ansel, but I am.
That’s what matters.
Before we head to dinner, I make sure to lead Ansel to the office Dr. Ramsey uses. He messaged me during the film and told me to bring my butterfly in for another checkup. So we stop by, and Ansel gets a clean bill of health. With lots of rest, of course.
When we’re done, we move toward the dining room where most of my brothers have gathered. Harley isn’t present yet. Not that I was expecting to see him. He’ll be in the kitchen with Jules. Flirting incessantly with the cook.
Harley has a crush. A big one. We all know it. The only one who seems oblivious is Jules himself. Or perhaps Jules isn’t interested. Either way, Harley is fucking smitten.
“We thought you weren’t going to make it,” Matthias tells me, his arm around Wyatt, who is leaning against him, sipping on some wine. The wedding ring on his finger catches the light, reminding me of their unusual beginnings.
Not as unusual as Ansel and me, though. See? We’re winning all around. It’s meant to be.
“Well, I heard Jules was cooking, so I knew we couldn’t miss it,” I reply. “Ansel has yet to try his creations.”
“I’m very excited,” Ansel says, and then shifts on his feet. “I’ve heard such good things.”
“You won’t be disappointed. Jules is amazing,” Wyatt says, then offers my boyfriend a reassuring grin. “You’re in for a treat, Ansel.”
I feel Ansel relax against me, and I make a note to buy Wyatt a gift in thanks. Something that won’t have Matthias pulling his gun on me. Again.
Matthias cocks his head, and we all head toward the table, which is set for nine. Wylder must’ve known I’d bring Ansel.
I like the feeling that gives me.
Samson is by the bar in the corner. He doesn’t look up at our arrival. In his right hand is a bottle of whiskey, and in the other is a dagger. He really should put that away; it’s not suitable for dinner.
But then again, there was a time when all he’d eat with was that knife. So perhaps he’s back in his caveman era.
“What’s got him all pissed?” I ask as we wander over.
Dalton sighs, swirling his wine in his glass. His eye is almost as black as Ansel’s, which pleases me. “When is he not pissed? Someone probably looked at him the wrong way, or maybe he tied his shoe wrong. It could be anything.”
“He’s a glass-half-empty kind of person?” Ansel asks curiously, and Dalton laughs.
“No, more like there is no glass. It’s broken on the floor, and the water is all over his shirt.”
“I heard that,” Samson says loudly, pointing his dagger at Dalton. “Don’t make me mad. I’ve had a fucking day.”
“Am I lying? You’re always mad,” I pipe up, and Samson glowers at me, too.
Wyatt hands Ansel a glass and pours him some wine—a generous portion, I might add. “You’ll need this for your first family dinner. It can be a lot.”
“Hey,” I protest. “We’re not a lot.”
“You’re more than a lot.” Wyatt rolls his eyes before turning his attention to Ansel again. “And don’t ever come to game nights unless you want to see blood.”
Ansel’s face pales. So much for not scaring him off. I pull him closer and tsk. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not a reliable source. Our game nights are fun. We’re a little competitive, but who isn’t?”
Ansel eyes me suspiciously. “Why do I believe him more than you?”
“You should always believe me more. I’m your boyfriend.”
“Oh my god.” He blushes. “We aren’t boyfriends.”
“You’re meeting the family, so yes, we are. Come on. Let’s go sit down. You don’t need to hear this shit. Liars! The lot of you!” I shout this and am only met with laughter. Fuckers, all of them.