18. Twelve-Oh-Six
Chapter eighteen
Twelve-Oh-Six
Eoghan
S omething troubled her. I didn’t know what it was, or how to fix it. The woman could keep a secret. She was a vault.
“Eoghan started a brawl,” Dairo sold me out. “Oh, good lord, there are a lot of flowers.”
He spun around, looking at all the white orchids. He lightly sniffed the air, his brows coming together. He must have decided that he liked the smell because he nodded in approval, even though he gave that wretched English smile - the kind that tilted down at the corners, as if a genuine, real grin would be the death of them.
“I didn’t start a brawl,” I grumbled, staring daggers at Dairo. “ They did. I simply ended it.”
Kira looked at me, skepticism written all over her face.
“It’s the truth!” I protested. I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to me. “I’ve only ever told you the truth.”
She simply rolled her eyes, and I knew she didn’t believe a word.
“Tell her Dairo!” I commanded.
“I will do no such thing!” Dairo placed a hand over his heart, as if he was wounded by my words.
“You English bastard,” I grumbled.
“You Irish menace!”
“I’m sorry, how are you two related?” Kira finally asked, looking back and forth between us.
She must see what the rest of the world saw. Dairo and I were mirror images.
“He’s my younger and uglier cousin,” Dairo said, before I could have a word.
“I’m gonna drown you in the Hudson,” I threatened with a sardonic smile.
Dairo smirked, as he looked at Kira with a pointed stare that I did not like.
She was a beautiful woman, and I would murder my best mate if he so much as tried to kiss her hand. She was mine. No one had a right to her beauty except me.
But what if she likes him more than you?
The simple thought made my blood boil.
“Eoghan, we really must get going before your father has a fit.” Dairo leaned against the doorframe, looking at me and her with a critical eye. What the hell could my cousin be thinking?
Did he look at the flowers littering the room and know they were from me?
“In a moment, Dairo,” I said, not taking my eyes off of her.
It didn’t escape me that she may have a lover. But, then again, I had written off that possibility. Because if she had, she wouldn’t have allowed me to kiss her palm. That tender place, where a scar would bisect, binding us as man and wife, if she ever agreed to be handfasted to me.
She bit her lower lip.
“What’s on your mind, love?” I said, softly.
“Nothing.”
I lifted a brow, waiting for the real response.
She let out a long sigh.
“Nothing. I just skipped dinner today, and I’m just…” Her slight chuckle was sad. “Rent is due soon, is all.”
She was still cleaning me up, her gentle hands running over my skin. I wanted to hold her, and feel her against me, just as I had this morning. The air was crackling between us. We were so close, but I needed so much more.
“That causes you stress?” I asked, feebly. Annoyed that this was the only thing I could think to say.
“It does to most people. New York isn’t exactly a cheap place to live.”
That was incredibly true. But a Goddess shouldn’t have mundane stresses. She shouldn’t worry about trivial things like rent, and groceries.
“Do you have enough?” I asked, wondering if that was the problem. Was Gallery Four not paying her enough?
“Yes, it’s just… heartbreaking to see the money run through my fingers like sand, sometimes. I’m being silly.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “It’s just mundane, normal stuff.”
“Let me help you, Miss Kekoa,” I said, reaching into my pocket. I flipped my bifold open and pulled out a black card. “The pin is 1206. Irish Independence Day, December 6th.”
She looked at it as if I was trying to hand her a stack of drugs, while a cop was looking over our shoulder.
“Take it, Kira,” I begged. “It’s hard to swim when you’ve got weights tied to your ankles. Pay your bills.”
She dropped her head, swallowing hard, her fingers coming together in front of her. She shook her head.
I placed my bruised hand on her cheek, and whispered, “I want to see the load off your back, so it doesn’t drown you.”
I would know. I had sent many a man to their doom, with weights holding their ankles together as they fell into the depths of the many New York City rivers. I had planted enough dead men that I bet they were growing like seaweed.
“And what will I have to do in return? Take off my clothes? Get on my knees?” Her lips pursed, her nose flaring. “I’d have to spread myself for you, whenever you snap your fingers?”
“As alluring as all those images are…” I felt a shudder, as the image of her on my bed, legs wide open, ready to receive me, as I pumped myself into her again and again. “I don’t have to pay for sex, love.”
I took the card and placed it on her desk.
“But I would pay for you, if that was what it took.” She stiffened, but I didn’t let that deter me from what I said next. “I’d do whatever it took to get another kiss. Another embrace. Another moment to sketch your beauty.” I bit my lower lip as I looked at her from head to toe. “Make no mistake, Miss Kekoa, my goal is not to get you into bed. I have no need for a one-night stand. My goal is to make you Mrs. Green.”
“What if I don’t want to change my name?”
“So be it.” I chuckled. “So long as you become my wife.”
She looked askance, as if she was afraid to meet my gaze. She squeezed her arms closer around her, until she was practically hugging herself, her shoulders up. She was so defensive; it was hard for me not to grab her to me and offer my body as her shield.
“I have no interest in becoming a man’s property. Maritally, or…” She let out a small sigh. “I don’t have any wish to be indebted to anyone, ever again. To be that vulnerable again.”
Again? Who had made her feel that way? I’d find out, and beat him to death.
“Is that what scares you, sweet Muse?” I said, tapping the card on her desk. “You’re afraid to be beholden to me?”
I pushed off of her desk with my hip, stepping up to her until my chest almost brushed against those arms she had crossed defensively over herself. I leaned down until we were almost eye-to-eye.
“I have a solution for that.” I lifted a single finger - just one because I didn’t want to scare her. I didn’t want her to feel threatened. She was a flight risk, looking for any reason to disappear. But I had to touch her. Just once. “I’ll have an offer on your desk tomorrow. Think about it - truly , think.”
I pinched her chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning her head so she was forced to look at me.
“I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse and give you a gift that comes with no strings attached.”
I placed a small kiss to the side of her forehead. Nothing aggressive. Just a brush of my lips on her skin. An excuse to let the scent of her floral shampoo into my nose so I could hold it in my lungs for a moment.
“Kira…” I reached out my hand, cupping hers in mine, her palms up for my inspection. The unscarred palm looked up at me like an abomination, and I yearned to place that diagonal cut from the base of the pinky, to the pad of the thumb. The diagonal scar that would, in my world, declare that she and I were one. That her burdens were mine, and my vows were hers. That she was mine by oath, protected by God and every blood of my blood. “You must let me help you.”
It wasn’t for her. It was for me. I needed to help her. I needed to be her servant, and her knight. I needed her to need me.
“No one can help me.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” I reached out, cupping her cheek, letting my fingers push away the hair that came loose from the tightly coiled bun at her nape.
I didn’t look away from her eyes, as I brought her hand to my lips, kissing the center of her beautiful palm. More than the kiss we had before, this one felt intimate. It was a promise. A silent oath of my own that said that she would be mine. That she was mine, and the world would know it.
“I have to leave the city for a few days.” Fuck, I hated saying that. The heat of my breath on her palm made me shudder. “But I’ll be back, sweet Muse.”
“Okay.” Was I hallucinating, or was she as breathless as I was?
“May I have a kiss before I go?” I had stolen a kiss from her before. The very first one.
I didn’t regret it. I should, but that wasn’t an emotion I could find within myself. If you taste a bit of heaven, even if it was stolen, regret just isn’t a feeling you can associate with it.
“Yes.”
I almost buckled with her acceptance. I had to take a breath, so I didn’t take more than what I asked for.
I was sure that if I wanted to, I could seduce her into my bed. I could take her here, and she would relent because she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I knew that as well as I knew my own name.
But there was something sweet in her giving. Something sweet in her declared, admitted consent. She’d love me one day. And it would be a love that was earned.
My kiss was gentle, closed-mouthed, and sweet. My bottom lip grazed the top of hers, before my tongue darted out, begging for entrance. She let me in. She opened for me, and I took just a little more, as her tongue darted out to meet mine.
I closed my eyes, and the image of The Kiss by Francesco Hayez came back to the forefront of my mind.
Danger lurked behind the corner. Conspiracies, and darkness was all around, and she couldn’t see it. Shadows were ready to pry us apart, even as we shared this perfect moment. I needed my dagger to fight them off. All of them.
I pulled myself away from her. I walked away, and out the door, turning around to look back at her one last time. I ached to see her look back at me, as I left her standing in the middle of her office.
Her glorious form was there, in front of her desk, one knee bent in her high heels, and form-fitted black dress. Her black curls partially tamed in a thick, full bun at the base of her skull.
What would I have done, if she had looked back? I don’t know. Maybe I would have run back to her and begged her to run away. To run far, far away.
“For what it’s worth, I like her,” Dairo said with a smile.
I wanted her to run away to a perfect world in the forest, where she could be my Titania, and I would be her Oberon, jealous of a babe in her beautiful arms.
“She looks like trouble,” Dairo continued, “and you like trouble.”