Chapter 26
26
“ A re you angry?”
The girl curled up in my front seat rests her head to one side, feet tucked beneath her. Her dark eyes watch me through the cloud she’s still floating upon, and I can feel every lingering second she studies my side profile as we drive away from Noire House.
“Angel…” Her fingers graze my arm after a few minutes, and I react purely on instinct, wrapping her small palm inside my own and squeezing lightly.
I shake my head. Of course, I’m not angry with her.
Hawke, however, is on thin fucking ice. The prick might be considered the man in charge of this place, but it doesn’t make him God. It certainly doesn’t excuse him from my fist breaking his jaw if he dares do anything that might hurt her, either.
“Sure about that?”
We pull into the parking garage at the house, and I exhale heavily while cutting the engine. Fuck, it’s impossible to express the collision of a thousand separate thoughts and feelings vying for attention with a deafening thrum. Without a voice, how the hell do I tell her that I hated everything about having to watch her end up in that position, but that I can’t hate the way she enjoyed the chance to experience something consensual?
It just fucked with my head seeing Hawke take her over his knee, and it was only Grey talking me off a goddamn ledge that prevented me from going in there and hauling him away from her.
In all honesty, at that moment, I could have gladly beaten him to a bloodied pulp and dumped his body in the foyer of Noire House for every single member of the Anguis to see. Fuck all the consequences of what committing such an act against an esteemed member of this Household might mean.
All I saw was a red mist and a need to protect her, until Grey pointed out that she asked for that experience. She negotiated with Hawke Calliano, and that man hardly does a goddamn thing that isn’t one hundred percent in his vested interest.
I hold on as tightly as if she’s about to slip away from me in a rip tide, rather than stay perched sweetly in the passenger seat, looking like a million dollars and smiling at me shyly in a way that I don’t deserve.
Pulling her hand up to rest over my chest, I shake my head once more. Then I let my gaze fall to her lap, with a crease in my brow.
How do I ask her what she needs? I want to be able to laugh with her and have the sorts of meaningless conversations that come with spending time around each other. Yet, I’m fearful that if I give us a way to do that, Poe will discover more of the flaws that make up my being, the cracks that are barely held together. I don’t want to give her a reason to walk away from me without a second thought, and it’s terrifying to think about messing everything up even more than has been required of me already .
How do I shove all that noise aside and just simply take care of this girl and hope to hell that I’m not going to lose my damn mind once this ends?
“Hey, where’d you go?” With the hand not currently trapped in my own, she reaches across the center console and presses her fingers to the furrows in my brow. Her touch is light, but she strokes those lines, coaxing me to let them ease, and I have to work down a rock in my windpipe.
My throat doesn’t fucking work, so it’s forever blocked anyway.
With a tiny yawn, she lets her fingertips slide down to lightly stroke my beard, and I think I’d die a contented man if my heart gave out right this second. “Is there a bath here? I think that’s what I need.”
I nod—because that’s all I ever damn well do, and lead her inside. Other than getting out of the car and insisting on opening her door for her, I haven’t let go of her hand. It fits too damn perfectly inside my own. She feels like my own little piece of something bright and hopeful after all this time, and with every second I get to keep hold of her hand, the events of tonight start to ease inside me.
Poe is here, she’s safe, and from the looks of her she’s actually content after what happened. That’s more than I could ask for.
When we’re inside my bathroom, she looks around. It’s much the same as hers, except a little larger, with a freestanding tub big enough for her to swim laps in. I hand over a bottle of water, start running the faucet to fill the bath, and make sure she follows my instructions to stay seated on a stool while I go off in search of everything she needs.
When I return, the bottle gets waved at me, letting the half-empty contents show that all my silent requests have been adhered to. Damn, if it doesn’t make my entire chest tighten to get to spend time exactly like this, and to know Poe seems just as happy in the strange little cocoon of silence that follows me around wherever I go.
I feel her eyes on me as I set everything down and dump some bubbles and shit beneath the stream filling the tub. It’s such an unfamiliar sensation, after watching her in secret for so goddamn long, of all the hours spent watching footage of her, following after her, now I’m here in the same room, and all her attention is on me.
Will Poe ever forgive me? More to the point, will I ever forgive myself?
Coming back to stand in front of her, I reach for the water bottle and set it on the vanity. Steam winds and curls around us, fogging the mirror, and the world outside that door disappears for a moment in time. While we stay hidden in here, surrounded by the floral notes of honeysuckle and lavender, it feels like I can at least pretend there’s some variation of this scene where this is just one of the thousands of moments I’ll get to spend taking care of my girl.
Stand up for me.
My palms wrap around her elbows, guiding her to her feet without wobbling, and I see her heels deposited on the tiles where they’ve already been kicked off.
As we stand there, I turn her palm over inside my own. Tracing the long scar, now in the process of knitting itself together, with a gentle rub of my forefinger, wanting to make sure it’s healing. Needing to check that I haven’t somehow overlooked a small detail that might be causing further pain.
“It’s feeling fine,” she murmurs, those brown eyes still tilted up toward my face. “A little itchy, but that’s a good thing, right? Proves that I’m healing?”
Giving it one final stroke, I nod and let her hand drop, but being so close, my own are already busy exploring the rest of her soft skin of their own accord. Poe allows me to trace over her shoulders, gliding my palm across the curve below her neck, further down her arms, exploring down to her waist, and I feel like I’m under some sort of trance.
When I reach the velvet fabric and swell of her hips, my fingers pause and rest there. It’s a strange combination of longing, one I’ve never experienced before. As much as I’m consumed by a need for her, there’s also this sensation of simply wanting to hold and care and feel the way her body can be at rest beneath my palms.
The closest I know of something similar to this, is being with Grey. As much as we might chase after a sexual release together, I live for that connection with him on a deeper level.
“Do you like it?” Her quiet words drag me back to the here and now. “The dress, I mean.”
Tilting my head to one side, I bring my gaze to hold hers. Do I like the fucking dress? I’m obsessed with this fucking dress.
I take her hand and lay it over my heart so she can feel that rhythmic thud.
“Was it faster or slower when you first saw me tonight?” She nibbles on her bottom lip.
That leaves me fighting a smile, as I point toward the ceiling. Poe laughs and tilts her head further back to follow the direction of my gesture.
“Through the roof? I don’t want to give you a heart attack, old man.”
So, she’s figured out there’s something of an age difference between us.
“How old are you, anyway?”
I mime zipping my lips.
Poe hums, and creases form around her eyes as if I’m a specimen to examine. “No grays that I can see.”
With a hidden smile she reaches up to playfully stroke my beard again, and damn if I don’t want to just trap her hand there and receive those tiny pats and fragments of attention all fucking day long. Even though that curve to her lips morphs into somewhat of a reproachful look that I refuse to answer properly.
As much as I want to lose hours like this, I also know it’s time to get this girl in the bath. Aftercare and all that. Which certainly doesn’t involve me looming over her like a shadow, simply staring into those pretty eyes all night.
I make a show of nipping at her fingertips, and that elicits a soft giggle. The tinkling sound pinballs around the damp tiles and has my heart growing about ten sizes too big for my chest. It’s as if she’s just showered precious, much-needed droplets of water over a wilted plant, encouraging the stem to finally straighten and stretch and reach for sunlight after struggling to exist for so long.
While I would love nothing more than to strip that dress off her bronzed skin, I let Poe undress herself, help her climb over the tub's lip without any risk of falling, and then take up a position on the stool beside her.
“You’re not getting in?” Her naked shoulders are kissed by an airy ring of bubbles, and the rising steam has already dampened those dark strands of hair into curls plastered against the back of her neck.
Another smile threatens the corner of my lips, so I flick some bubbles at her and then begin counting on my fingers. One. Two. Three… Four. Hovering over the final digit, I arch an eyebrow her way.
“Lucky orgasm number five?” Her toes wriggle at the other end of the tub, and even though she’s teasing, it isn’t actually a request for me to dive in there and start heating things up again. Even Poe knows her body needs a chance to rest after the intensity of what happened at the club. She hasn’t complained of being sore, but I could bet anything that ass is stinging.
Bending down, I pick up the shampoo bottle and reach for the detachable shower head. Poe gives me a look that is the female equivalent of turning to putty.
“Are you for real?” She looks ready to dissolve like some of those bubbles gradually vanishing across the surface of the water. “No one has ever done that for me before.”
It only takes a moment to test the temperature of the water, and I get her to untie her dark waves, tilt her head back, and allow me to start wetting the long strands. As the sound of water trickles down and warmth glides over her, Poe’s eyes drift closed.
She lets me massage the shampoo into her scalp… grants me permission to take my time giving her this. While it would be incredible to be able to talk, there’s also something undeniably special in being able to just enjoy watching her. To take care of her.
As I rub my fingers over her head methodically, her body rocks, and the water gently shifts inside the tub. It’s going to be almost impossible to ever see this spot without recalling this moment, I know it. Maybe there will be an opportunity for us when I can steal her away again. To have her nestled against my chest and to be able to enjoy another helping of something so perfect.
What Poe doesn’t know is that she might never have had anyone to look after her, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life to find someone who I’m supposed to take care of in this exact way.
While rinsing the shampoo and following with conditioner, I feel an untold weight, a kind of heaviness lifts from my chest. Yes, this is important for Poe to be given proper aftercare, but somehow, it feels like I needed this quiet moment with her just as crucially. Flashes of the scene between her and Hawke—his hand connecting with her reddened ass—float through my mind’s eye, and I don’t know how to process or properly straighten things inside my brain .
Is it jealousy? I don’t fucking know. Maybe I’m resentful of whatever it is he’s drawn out in her, but I also care too much for that prick to be truly angry with him. I trust Hawke with my life, even if there was a long moment earlier tonight when I was ready to damn well snap his neck.
This thing gnawing at me, it’s not so much about being jealous that he got to touch her, but that I want us to share her. And if I have to really dig deeper into that thought, my faulty goddamn heart wants it to be that way all the time.
That night we had together was something unexpected. It felt right, being the four of us. In some kind of messed up way, I don’t care if Hawke has her… I just want to know that it’s part of something we’re all in on.
Jesus. It doesn’t even make sense in my own mind because then there’s the added complexity of how I feel when I’m in a situation like that with Grey. The layers and layers of always trying to understand what I feel about that asshole.
Or, more accurately, trying to figure out whether he’ll ever acknowledge that we mean more to each other than we’ve ever been able to say.
Not that I’d ever be able to, anyway.
By the time I finish washing Poe’s hair, the girl is nearly slipping beneath the water. After making sure to take her makeup off, I bundle her up in a towel and carry her with me to my bed. Fuck if she’s ever sleeping in that other room again. She asks me in a dreamy, half-comatose kind of state if I can lend her a t-shirt to sleep in, and I’d give her the shirt off my back within a heartbeat. Except I know she wants something soft and comfortable, and that’s what she gets.
After I’ve stripped out of my suit and climbed in beside her, a series of soft, steady breaths fan against my chest as sleep catches up with her fast. Lying in the dark, I grab my phone to read whatever has arrived from Grey and Hawke while I’ve been busy focusing on my girl. There’s only a quick check-in on Poe from the former and, unsurprisingly, nothing from the latter.
But there is one from my sister, who I haven’t heard from lately.
Hellhound:
Hi? Hello? Excuse me, but why was the last text I have from you sent approximately five hundred years ago?
Your thumbs are in perfect working order.
Unless someone hacked your hands off since I last saw your ugly ass, then… tough shit, I guess?
You’re getting weirder.
Says the guy whose favorite expression is: *death glare*
Can I help you… or?
Oh, I’m sorry. Disturbing you, am I?
Maybe.
Dots bounce rapidly on screen and I know the exact expression of utter menace that will be on her face.
Is she hot?
Or he?
Can I see a photo? Pretty please.
My little sister follows all of that with a line of praying emojis.
Don’t be so nosey.
Nudes, or it didn’t happen.
No, you cannot have a photo.
This one is special.
Aw, my brother’s in love.
Some of us have a heart, unlike you.
Yeah, I cut that bitch out early on. Told you to do the same, sucker.
Is Grey cool with it?
Pretty sure he’s down bad, too.
You guys are so cute.
Are you ever gonna put your big boy pants on and tell him?
I’m sorry, the number you have dialed does not appear to be in service.
Whatever. I’ll hit him up myself and get the gossip.
When are you gonna be back next?
Not sure. This one’s kind of a long gig.
Might be a couple of years. Who knows.
Don’t you get sick of always having a mark?
Don’t you?
Besides, we don’t get to live a normal fucking life.
You know that.