38. 38 – Zella
S tretching out in the late afternoon sun, I turn my face up to the light. It feels warm against my skin, even through the hooded sweatshirt Maverick insisted I wear when he caught me sneaking out of the front door, sketchbook and pens in hand.
The weather is getting colder now, but I relish in every shiver as the cool breeze passes over my body. I’ll never get tired of this sensation.
Closing my eyes, I take in the orange light left by the sun through my eyelids. A shadow falls over it, and my lips twist into a grin as warm lips seal over mine.
Ryder cups my cheeks as he presses me back into the sun lounger, his tongue sliding between my lips in a way that mimics exactly what we were doing this morning.
I’m breathless when he pulls away, his brown eyes warm as he kneels in front of me and slides his hands up my legs. “How are your bruises, little thief?”
I roll my eyes. They barely even count as bruises, whatever Maverick muttered as he was rubbing cream into them the other day.
“Fine.” I tug up the dress I’m wearing, showing him the slight yellow marks that still dot my skin. “They’re almost gone.”
And I’m about ready for some new ones. It’s been a whole week . I think I’ll sleep with Maverick tonight. I’ve spent the last week bouncing from room to room.
Frowning, I glance down at the sketch in my hand. Maverick, Enzo, and Ryder, all of them covered by a small amount of bedsheet and nothing else. Ryder gently tugs the book from me, and I blanch, trying to grab it back.
He whistles. Is it possible for my face to actually catch on fire? “Holy fuck, princess. You have a very vivid imagination.”
I’m not sure what the noise is that erupts from my throat, but Ryder throws his head back in a laugh, taking pity and giving me back the sketchbook. Flipping it closed before I can get myself into more trouble, I reluctantly stand up and make to head inside.
His hand grips my wrist, and I turn my head away. “Princess. Hey, look at me.”
I slide my eyes to him, and he rubs his thumb over the pulse in my wrist. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, this feels like a good time to show you something we’ve been working on.”
He slides his hand down, entwining our fingers together as he tugs me along in his enthusiasm. Curiosity pulls at me as we walk into the house and he stops, pulling open the dungeon door and yelling down. “I’m showing her!”
We wait for a second, and then there’s a response. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
I blink. “I don’t think Enzo wants me to see…whatever this is.”
Considering how open he was to me discovering his little torture-murder secret, I’m starting to get a bit worried about what exactly this is.
Maverick yanks open his study door. “Did I hear shouting?”
By this time, I’m chewing my lip. Enzo comes bounding up the stairs, a snarl on his face. “It’s not ready,” he snaps at Ryder, and he shrugs.
“Close enough.”
Maverick sighs. “Enzo is right. We talked about this, Ry.”
Ryder ignores them, tugging me towards the stairs as they follow. “Well, our timeline got moved up. Our little princess is getting itchy feet.”
I swivel my head between them. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out,” Ryder promises. Maverick and Enzo overtake us as we reach the top of the stairs, and Ryder shouts after them as they disappear. “Chop chop, ladies! Thirty second warning.”
“The more you open your mouth, the more worried I’m getting,” I mutter, and he spins around, caging me against the wall.
“Good surprise,” he promises, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “I swear.”
I’m withholding judgment. Yesterday, he made me sit through hours of a movie about little furry creatures, men in white dresses and aliens that go to war against each other with shiny light sticks, swearing that it was the best movie ever made.
I fell asleep after the first one, and he didn’t even notice.
We wait until there’s a shout, and then Ryder nudges me forward. “Close those pretty eyes for me, little thief. I want to see your face when you see it.”
“See what?” I ask, but his hands are already sliding over my eyes and he’s guiding me forward. I put my hands out, taking stumbling steps until cool hands slip into mine.
“Easy, prey,” Enzo’s low voice murmurs. “Wouldn’t want any more bruises on that pretty skin of yours.”
I shiver as his breath ghosts my ear. “At least, not unless you’re screaming my name when I put them there.”
“Enough,” Maverick says from nearby. “Let her go.”
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust as the room comes into view. My body turns slowly as I take it in, my eyes widening. The bed in front of me is huge .
“Plenty of space for all of us,” Ryder murmurs as he props his head on my shoulder. “Guess those sketches of yours weren’t so far off after all.”
“What sketches?” Enzo demands, and I clear my throat, taking a few steps forward.
“Wow. That’s… impressive.”
“We figured you wouldn’t want to keep bed hopping forever.” Maverick rubs his hand over one of the wooden posts at each corner. They have vines and leaves carved into them, reaching up to a pale canopy of material that hangs above the bed, creating a little cocoon. “What do you think?”
“This is my new room?” I ask, and they all nod. “I love it.”
“And that’s not everything!” Ryder bursts out. Maverick and Enzo both break into matching scowls.
“For the love of fuck,” Enzo groans. “Somebody needs to fucking gag you.”
“Sorry.” Ryder doesn’t sound sorry at all as he bounces in place. “I just get too excited.”
“Wait until you see him at Christmas,” Maverick says with exasperation. “No gift is safe.”
Christmas?
“What’s… Christmas?” I ask. The room suddenly silences. You could hear a pin drop.
“You… you don’t know what Christmas is?” Ryder sounds horrified. “That asshole .”
“Ryder,” Maverick snaps, before he turns to me. “It’s a holiday we celebrate once a year. You give presents, put up a tree and decorate it.”
My eyes round. “Inside the house?”
When he nods, I immediately make a note to look up Christmas on the laptop Ryder gave me. The googirl will know. She knows everything.
“God, I can’t wait for Christmas this year,” Ryder says, and Enzo snorts. Ryder points a finger at him. “Shut the fuck up, Mr. Grinch. Guess who’s getting coal in his stocking this year. Again .”
“I like coal,” Enzo says smoothly. “I use it to light the fires of hell.”
I have zero idea what’s happening right now, but my shoulders start to shake anyway.
Maverick pinches his nose, exhaling softly. “Alright, Satan. Can we just put a pin in this conversation for a minute? Since Ryder can’t keep a damn secret to save his life, I think we should probably show Zella the other thing.”
“My idea,” Enzo interrupts. He’s glaring at Ryder. “I get to show her.”
Ryder throws up his hands. I think he’s poking out his bottom lip, too, and I bite back my smile. “Fine. Have it your way, Saint Dickolas.”
Enzo ignores him, holding out his hand. “Little prey.”
This time, we go downstairs. “This is a lot of surprises,” I say softly, and he squeezes my hand.
“We would have spread them out,” he says coolly. “If it wasn’t for people with big fucking mouths .”
He says this over his shoulder, and Ryder yelps. When I turn to look, he’s rubbing the back of his head. Maverick is walking behind him, his face expressionless, but he winks at me.
Enzo doesn’t cover my eyes this time, but he turns to look at me as he pushes open a set of wooden double doors with stained glass windows. I haven’t been in this room before, and my breathing stops altogether as I walk in and stop dead.
There’s so much light in this room. The sun beams in through the floor to ceiling windows that surround us, highlighting the easels set up in different spaces across the room.
Each easel holds an empty canvas. Across from me is an empty space with shiny flooring, and I cross it as I move to the far wall.
Dark wooden shelves are stacked with various items, and my hand shakes as I pick one up, turning it over in my hands. Oils.
Behind me, Maverick clears his throat. “We tried to get as much as we could, but if there’s something missing, we can get that too.”
My eyes lift up, taking in the sheer number of art materials in front of me. Some of them I don’t even recognise.
“You made this for me?” I ask softly. “All of this… is mine?”
“All yours, little prey,” Enzo murmurs. When I turn to him, he’s half-smiling, this tiny movement that transforms his entire face into something gentler. “The space in the middle is for sculpting, if you wanted to do that.”
The lump inside my throat gets bigger, cutting off my thoughts before I can even voice them.
They made me my own art studio.
“No tears,” Enzo says immediately when the first one falls down my cheek. His hands are there, wiping them away as he frowns down at me. “I don’t like them.”
“Happy tears,” I assure him in a choked-up voice, and he makes a look of disgust.
“Happy tears,” he mutters. “That’s a first.”
“Stop.” With a half-laugh, I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in. “I love it, Enzo. Thank you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his arms close around me.