Chapter Seven • Dropped • Damien #2
“I’m here for like three months, off and on. I’m sure I can find another opportunity to stick my tongue down your throat,” I say, though I can’t bring myself to give her my usual flirtatious grin.
Her eyes search mine. They look almost violet in this lighting. If she keeps me locked in with her like this, I might just end up kissing her again, anyway. “Let me help you get comfortable and I promise I’ll reward you with another kiss, alright?”
She doesn’t let me go right away. When she finally untangles her arms from behind my neck, she lets her hands brush down the sides of my throat, then my shoulders, and finally the plane of my chest. Her nails faintly catch on my skin, and I have to stifle a shiver that threatens to run from head to toe.
She rests her hands over her chest and I straighten, moving to tug off her cute Kuromi socks.
“You want these fishnets off?” I ask her. She nods but doesn’t try to move to peel them down off her hips. “Can I?” I ask her. She nods again.
My movements are purely practical as I reach under the hem of her skirt to pull the waistband down and quickly off of her pale legs. I fold the tights and set them neatly to the side. “Where do you keep your pajamas?” I ask.
“There are sweats in the third drawer down,” she says, pointing to an antique dresser that she appears to have painted black.
I retrieve the most comfortable ones I can find—which just so happen to be pale violet and covered in little adorably cranky Kuromi heads and I turn my back to her as she shimmies them onto her hips.
When she announces she’s done putting them on, I find her peeling her denim skirt off from over them.
She lifts her torso off the bed, reaching awkwardly under herself for the clasp of her bra and struggling a bit before she gives up and sighs. “I’ll just sleep with it on,” she grumbles.
“Want help?” I ask, and when she gives me a knowing look I put my hands up in a gesture of innocence. “I’ll be a good boy. I promise. Remember the fishnets?”
“What if you’re a titty man?” she asks me.
“I solemnly swear that I sit squarely in the camp of being an ass man,” I say, a hand over my heart.
She squints at me for a few more seconds before she finally nods. “Very well, I’ll allow it.”
I slip my hand underneath her back and find the ridges of the clasp. I give it a quick little squeeze and it pops open. She gasps, making me chuckle.
“You are suspiciously good at that,” she says as she slides the straps off and pulls the undergarment from under her shirt.
I can’t help but look at the lavender lace as it falls to the ground. Damn, it would have been nice to see her in that bra. I wonder if her panties match.
“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” She asks me.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” she says as she grabs onto a soft, stuffed bat. “Kiss now?” she asks.
I huff a laugh. She’s so fucking cute I can’t stand it.
I lean over her and kiss the middle of her forehead. “There you go,” I say. “Get some rest.”
She levels a pout at me. “That’s not a real kiss,” she says.
“I don’t really want to risk triggering another seizure for you,” I say.
“You think you’re that good? You can kiss me so hard that you press my factory reset button?”
“Sweetheart. We are in your bedroom and you’re not wearing a bra and now all I can think about is the fact that your underwear might match that pretty lavender lace you just threw to the ground,” I say. “But also, yes. I am that good at kissing. And you need to rest. Period.”
She lets out a disgruntled sound before sighing. “Fine,” she says. “Could you please turn on my fan? I need the white noise to sleep.”
I look around until I find a standing fan near her bedroom window and a little writing desk.
I walk over to it and click it on, catching a glimpse of a photo on her desk of a much younger, black haired version of Lillith sitting with an older woman with gray hair down to her hips.
Lilith is smiling easily and she has a cake sitting in front of her with some of those chunky number candles on it.
It looks like it’s a picture of her seventeenth birthday.
“Nan...” Lillith says—or more like slurs.
“Hm?”
“Miss her,” she says. “All the time. S’lonely here without her.”
My heart squeezes as I approach the side of her bed and kneel at the foot of it. I fold my arms and rest my chin there. “If it’s alright with you, Lillith, I’d like to crash on your couch until I’m sure you’re not going to seize while I’m gone. Is that alright?”
Her eyes close and she sighs. “Mmkay,” she says, nuzzling her plush a little harder. I’m honestly not even sure if she’s actually hearing me or is too far gone to her sleepiness already. I decide I’m enough of a bastard to take advantage though. I’m staying. I’m too worried just to bail on her now.
The fan brings in enough of a breeze that it stirs her hair and I watch as she drifts into a peaceful slumber.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Oren to let him know I’m staying at the apothecary, and head down the stairs to grab the bag of books and the box of pastries.
When I come back in, I get a little nosy and look around her shop in the dim illumination of the string lights.
There are signs about readings, spellwork consultations and apothecary classes.
Her shelves down here have a lot more by way of oddities.
Wet specimens of snakes and octopus and jellyfish.
I pick up a pamphlet with a little about section for the shop and read it as I head back up to her apartment.
There are cool pictures of her ancestors.
Apparently, every one born to her bloodline is always a woman—a strange genetic quirk that I’m not sure I possess the math skills for as far as determining how unlikely that is.
But it’s bizarre, she’s the spitting image of so many of these women—even the ones who lived over a hundred years ago. It’s in the easy way they smile, in the soft look of their large eyes.
I peek into her room again, admittedly a little paranoid that she might seize again. But she’s exactly where I left her about fifteen minutes ago, sleeping soundly.
I linger for a little too long, watching the way Lillith’s pouty lips part as her breathing slows, thinking about how she tasted like tea and honey when I kissed her.
Damn, she’s cute. I wish I could climb into her little double-sized bed with her and hold her all night.
But that would definitely be taking my bastardry to another level.
I push off the doorframe, finally, and leave the room.
I leave the door open so I can hear if she falls from the bed or makes any sounds of distress and I walk out to her living room.
The sofa she has is more of a love seat.
A cool antique piece but definitely not long enough for my height.
Still, I’ve slept in worse spots and I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.
I sit on the couch and unlace my converse before pulling my sweatshirt and my muscle tee off over my head.
I unfasten my belt as quietly as possible, cringing a bit when the metal clangs.
Thankfully, I don’t hear Lillith stir, so I fold them neatly and drape my beanie over my little pile of belongings before settling into the soft cushions of the couch with my ankles propped up over the arm rest.
Something about Lillith’s apartment feels so safe. Not that the entirety of Del Lune doesn’t already feel like some sort of pocket where crime doesn’t exist, but there is a sort of intimate quality to the small space that feels like nothing could get to me here.
I’m asleep only a few minutes later.