Chapter 38
thirty-eight
-Serena-
My head’s spinning like I’ve been drinking. My body hurts like I got hit by a truck. Scratch that—like I got hit by a truck, then thrown off a building. But… I’ve never felt so fucking good in my entire life.
I should be in some kind of shock, given my chronic inability to make a decision. Instead, things’ve never been clearer.
I somehow managed to fall asleep on top of Set. His scent now clings to my skin, and I’m practically bathing in him. I always wanted to smell like him. Like he’s left his mark on me. Like my body’s forever tainted with a piece of him.
He might be hell-born, but he makes me feel like I’m in heaven, and last night was the peak of that.
Maybe I’ve lost the last ounce of sanity, but I crave his darkness as much as I crave the man beneath me.
“You’re awake,” he observes, even though I haven’t moved a muscle.
Lifting my head, I press my lips to the center of his chest. “Just opened my eyes,” I murmur.
“Are you in… pain?” he asks, concern, edging his voice.
I don’t want to fuel that, but I’m afraid if I lie, he’ll know. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m able to walk. “A little. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’ll get you something for the pain,” he says, kissing me, then gently slides me off him and onto the bed.
“I’ll be right back.” I watch him getting up, and yeah, he’s up in every sense of the word.
I might be able to get used to the fact that he’s the devil’s offspring, but I’ll never be able to get used to seeing him like that, without a blush on my face.
He comes back with a pill and a glass of orange juice. I down it fast, because I’m pretty sure he rearranged my organs last night. I know it’s not the first, or the last time—nor do I want it to be.
I finish the juice and I’m ready to get out of bed, but he stops me—just as the doorbell rings. He leaves again, then returns with breakfast and coffee. “Room service,” he smiles, setting the breakfast tray on the bed.
My OCD barely lets me eat there because of all of the crumbs. But considering the sheets are already ruined from last night, what’s a few more crumbs between bodily fluids?
“Aren’t you going to join me?” I ask, catching him just staring at me like it’s the first time he’s ever seen someone eat.
He doesn’t give me an answer, just throws a question at me—or more like a test. “Define perfection,” he whispers in a hushed tone, and I swear I’m melting right into the sheets.
He’s serious, so I think of it as a challenge. “A day at the beach. Sun, sand, the two of us on a lounge chair.” I smile, satisfied with my answer. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting him off that easy. “Now you.”
His gaze is pointing straight at me, scanning me from head to toe, like the sheets are the only thing ruining the view. “This.”
*****
A couple weeks have passed, and life’s hit a whole new level. I’m so happy it’s almost scary. Like something bad is waiting to crash the party. Set says it’s trauma, somehow related to all the bad things that have happened in my life, and that I can’t truly allow myself to be at peace.
I just call it paranoia. But he’s probably right. For once, I feel like I belong somewhere. Like being by his side was where I was supposed to be all along. And he makes sure to prove it, every second and every minute of the day.
We spend as much as we can together. I help him with the hotel, as it turns out, he’s got a dozen businesses—not just the Sphinx, but all over the city.
That leads to crazy amounts of sex. Everywhere.
Can’t complain, though. Never will. Because I’ve never felt worshiped like this.
Sometimes I feel like I’m the god in our relationship.
And he makes sure that I feel as important as one.
Still, every now and then, I think about Elko.
I didn’t have many friends here, mostly because everyone is afraid of me, or more likely, what Set would do if anything ever happened to me.
I once walked into the kitchen at one of his restaurants and accidentally cut myself.
He almost burnt down the whole place because of it.
And it was his restaurant. So yeah... people don’t usually talk to me unless it’s something business-related.
That’s why I made time today and called Monica.
She was surprised to hear from me, and I know I’ve been a jerk for not calling her sooner, but a lot’s happened in my life lately.
She’s still working at the gas station in Elko, but she’s got a week off and was planning on visiting Vegas anyway.
So now, I’ve kind of promised her a night out.
I just have to figure out how to tell Set.
He’s a little... possessive. Not that I can blame him, after everything.
It’s not like any other man could have me, anyway.
Not after he made sure that place was marked.
But it’s not a piercing that’s making me his.
I just won’t let anyone else touch me. Not ever.
Because there are no other options but him. I don’t want any other option but him.
I decide to tell him over dinner—or maybe mid-head. He’ll agree to anything if he sees me on my knees. But I’ll probably be too busy to talk, so scratch that.
I stick with dinner and make sure it’s one at home, so the whole restaurant won’t hear him cursing and probably yelling. He’s not against me having some freedom, but he just doesn’t like the idea of being more than ten feet away when I’m having my freedom.
I try to surprise him with burgers. I know it’s too casual, but we’re always eating fancy chef-crafted stuff. For us, burgers are practically exotic... and junk food is the way to the heart.
But of course, he’s too sharp not to notice something’s off, and before I can even prep my pitch, I get hit with the “What’s really going on” question.
I can’t beat around the bush for long. Because it’ll only make him lose his patience, and then I won’t get things my way. So I skip straight to the point. “Do you remember my friend Monica?”
“The one who took you to a bar full of men?”
Touché. This just got a lot harder than I expected.
“Most bars are usually full of men, Set. And yes, her. The one person who made me feel comfortable in Elko,” I’m telling him between the lines, that this conversation isn’t up for debate.
“What about her?” he asks, setting his burger down on the plate.
This is bad.
“Well, she’s coming to town this week and I was thinking... maybe I could meet up with her.”
“Give her one of the suites. She can stay here, and you can meet with her,” he says, as if he’s got the answers to everything.
Well, I’m sure Monica would love to stay here. Who wouldn’t? But to be honest, I’d never have offered her a suite. Not because she doesn’t deserve it; I want the best for her. But I don’t want to take advantage of Set. I’m just weird like that.
I’d have probably given her one of the other available rooms. Since he offered, though... “I’ll tell her to stay here. But I still want to go out with her.”
“You said meet up with her. Not go out with her.”
“Meet with her... as in a club.” I slowly introduce what I want to say.
And he doesn’t seem to take it too well. His expression shifts, and I can see the white in his orbs disappearing.
“The eyes,” he says, a warning in every syllable.
“The eyes don’t scare me, Set.” I hold my stance.
“What about me killing someone?”
“You can’t kill someone because I want to go out. I’ll pick one of your clubs, if that helps you sleep at night.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then I won't pick one of your clubs.”
“The hell you won’t.”
“Well, make up your mind and I’ll tell Monica where we’re going,” I try to sound casual, though I knew from the start this would be difficult. I should’ve gone with the blowjob.
“You’ll meet her here at the hotel. You can take her anywhere you want—here, go shopping, go to the café, the restaurants, the pool, just not the fucking clubs.”
It’s time to pull out the heavy artillery. “When will you trust me?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. The problem is I don’t trust anyone else.”
“Well, you should trust me to handle everyone else. You said I should be able to be on my own. To find my own courage. How can I do that if I’m always next to you?”
“If you want, I can take you to kill someone. It’s not in the club that you’ll find your courage,” he says, and I can tell his nerves are stretched to the max. In fact, he’s so tense that he’s about to get up from the table.
I have no real chance of winning this. To hell with it. Time for plan B. “We could negotiate,” I say, arching a brow, and just like that, I’ve got his full attention.
“Oh, you’re just plain evil now.”
“I’m just playing to win, just how you taught me. Ready for dessert?”