Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Livie
The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bed as I slowly wake. My body aches in unfamiliar places, a delicious soreness between my thighs reminding me of last night's intimacies. I stretch carefully, wincing slightly at the tenderness.
"Morning, beautiful." Greyson's deep voice rumbles beside me. His blue eyes study me with concern. "You okay?"
"A little sore," I admit, blushing despite myself. "But in the best possible way."
His expression shifts, darkening with something possessive. "Let me take care of you." He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before sliding out of bed.
I watch him move, naked, across the room, admiring the play of muscles under tattooed skin. He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear water running. Moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth and a glass of water.
"Drink," he instructs, handing me the glass and two small pills. "For the soreness."
After I swallow the medication, he gently cleans between my thighs with the washcloth, his touch reverent. The tenderness in his actions brings unexpected tears to my eyes.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks immediately, misreading my emotion.
I shake my head. "No one's ever taken care of me like this before."
His eyes lock with mine, intense and burning. "Get used to it. You're mine now, Livie. Mine to protect, mine to cherish." His hand splays possessively across my stomach. "Mine in every way."
The declaration sends a shiver through me, not of fear but recognition. This is who Greyson Reed is—protective, possessive, all-consuming in his devotion. And I wouldn't have him any other way.
"Yours," I agree, reaching up to trace his jawline. "All yours."
Something shifts in his expression, a softening around his eyes even as his jaw tightens with resolve. "I'm going to make you breakfast," he announces, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Stay in bed. Rest."
"I can help—"
"Let me take care of you," he interrupts, his tone brooking no argument. "Please."
I sink back against the pillows, secretly enjoying this pampering. "Okay."
He returns thirty minutes later with a tray laden with pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit, and coffee. We eat in bed, talking about nothing and everything, stealing kisses between bites. After breakfast, he draws a bath for me, adding scented oils that ease my soreness.
"Join me?" I ask, holding out my hand as I sink into the warm water.
His smile is predatory as he strips and slides in behind me, pulling me against his chest. We stay there until the water cools, his hands exploring my body with lazy possessiveness, as though reaffirming his claim.
Later, we curl up on the couch, my head in his lap as he strokes my hair. Some action movie plays on the TV, but neither of us pays much attention. His phone buzzes occasionally with club matters but for the first time since I've known him, he ignores it.
"We should probably get ready soon," I murmur reluctantly, glancing at the clock. "Dinner at Mason's is at six."
Greyson's fingers pause in my hair. "We could cancel," he suggests, his voice dropping to that register that makes my stomach flip. "Stay in bed all night instead…"
I laugh, pushing myself up to face him. "As tempting as that sounds, Meadow will hunt us down if we bail. Besides, I want to get to know her better."
He sighs dramatically, but his eyes are warm with amusement. "Fine. But tomorrow, you're all mine. No interruptions."
"Promise," I agree, sealing it with a kiss that quickly deepens into something more heated.
* * *
We eventually manage to get dressed, though it takes longer than it should with Greyson's hands wandering every time I try to put on an article of clothing. By the time we arrive at Mason's house, I'm flushed and laughing, feeling lighter than I have in years.
Meadow opens the door before we can knock, her knowing smile making me blush all over again. "Well, well," she says, eyeing us with amusement. "Don't you two look thoroughly… relaxed?"
"Meadow," Greyson greets her with a warning tone that does nothing to dim her smile.
"Come in," she says, stepping aside. "Mason's out back manning the grill. Drinks are in the kitchen."
As we follow her inside, Greyson's hand finds the small of my back, a possessive gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Meadow. Her eyebrows rise slightly, but her smile turns genuine.
"I'm glad you found each other," she says quietly as Greyson moves ahead to greet my brother. "He's been waiting for you for a long time."
"I know," I reply, watching as Greyson claps Mason on the shoulder, both men laughing at something. "I think maybe I was waiting for him too. I just didn't know it."
Meadow's expression softens. "That's how it works sometimes. The right person at the right time." She links her arm through mine. "Now, come help me in the kitchen and tell me everything.”
I laugh, allowing her to lead me away. As I pass Greyson, our eyes meet, a silent communication passing between us—a promise of later, of forever, of something that feels both brand new and ancient as time itself.
This, I realize with sudden clarity, is what coming home really means. Not just returning to a place but finding where, and with whom, you truly belong.
"Do you know what we need?" I ask Meadow.
She straightens at my question.
"Let’s have a girls' night. Let's get all of the Devil Soul and Grim Sinner girls together and go out for the night."
I’m underage and can’t drink, but I can still have fun.
Meadow's eyes light up with excitement. "That's a brilliant idea! It's been way too long since we've all gotten together without the guys hovering around."
I grin, already imagining the chaos. "Do you think they'll actually let us have a night without bodyguards?"
"Honey, your man just claimed you in the most permanent way possible, and my husband still acts like I might disappear if he blinks too long. They're going to hate this idea." Her smile turns wicked. "Which is exactly why we're doing it."
From the back patio, we hear the guys' laughter, completely unaware that we're already plotting their mild torment.
"When should we do it?" I ask, getting caught up in Meadow's enthusiasm.
"This Friday night. That gives us enough time to coordinate with everyone and for the guys to mentally prepare for the idea of their women having fun without them." She pulls out her phone. "I'm texting Elle right now."
As Meadow types furiously, I can't help but smile at how quickly I've been absorbed back into this world. A week ago, I was worried about fitting in. Now I'm planning girls' nights and thinking about "our compound" like I never left.
"Done," Meadow announces, hitting send. "Now we just have to survive telling them about it."