Chapter 41 - August
The sun isn’t even up yet, and she’s wrapped around me like I’m oxygen, and she’s relearning how to breathe. Her head rests in the hollow between my chest and shoulder. One hand’s draped on my stomach, and her thigh tangles with mine.
She stirs and shifts, her fingers dragging lower.
Waking up to her squeezing me like she doesn’t want to leave the bed is better than perfection.
I’m lucky she’s here with me, and not at one of my safehouses.
The night at the Pluto club didn’t erase anything, but it cracked the door open to a second chance.
Now we’re holed up in the mountains, and I can’t tell if it’s for survival, or if I’m her choice.
Kate wakes with a gasp that screams she forgot to breathe, and air claws its way up from her clenched gut.
Tremors ripple through her body as she shakes off the nightmare and finds herself.
Her hands pat me, Josh, the blankets and pillow, reminding herself she’s safe and not at the mercy of the men who touched her without permission when they kidnapped her from Spartacus’ former headquarters.
Her body curls into me, shoulders tight, fingers clawing into my side as the worst of the memory bleeds from her body.
Moonlight slices through the blinds in cold angles.
Shadows crawl over her face like monsters in waiting.
Her forehead, lip, and chest are damp with sweat.
She breathes like it hurts. Like the devil grips her throat.
I’m her life raft in water that got deeper.
PJ3 snuffles in his sleep but doesn’t stir.
“I’m here, Glitter Bomb.” I brush her shoulder with my nails to yank her the rest of the way out of hell. “You’re safe.”
Her nickname earns a blink. And another. Glass sheens her eyes—unshed tears. Her lips part, but she can’t speak at first.
“Just breathe through it, baby.” I reach for the glass of water by the bed and pass it to her. She takes it, hands trembling, drinking it. “Was it him?”
Her head dips, heavy with shame, answering for her.
Fucking Blackthorn haunting her from the grave and rotting her from the inside out.
We’re a safe distance from the city’s chokehold, but that doesn’t mean we’re secure.
Fools fall back on their laurels and believe they’re free.
Wounded predators strike the hardest before they die.
Our calm is temporary, especially when she plans to release more articles and discharge more truth bombs.
In between fits of sleep, I’ve come up with a plan to protect us in the event of an ambush and get us out safely, with food and weapons.
Kate’s shoulders flinch like she braces for impact. “He had a camera this time.” Her voice is raw. “He said he’d make everyone watch. You didn’t get there in time.”
I grind my molars, and my hands curl into the sheet. Pressure spikes behind my eyes and ribcage. I want to rip through the mattress, the house, his fucking grave. There’s no damn magical pill to make her forget it all.
“He’s dead.” My voice is thinner. “It’s over, baby.”
She swallows, and I lift the glass to her mouth, forcing her to drink. She obeys, but it’s mechanical. I hate the way her eyes aren’t here with me. She gives me the glass, and I leave it on the nightstand.
My fingers tighten around hers. “You got out and lived. That bastard didn’t break you. And you didn’t need me. You were your own hero.”
Her body jerks with a silent sob. I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer to me, cradling her. Trauma doesn’t care about body counts. It lingers and sharpens, finding new corners to hide in. I fight a one-man battle, reminding her of her inner power.
I drag my fingertips down her spine, calling her back to me. “I’m here now. You’re never alone. We’re barnacles. Inseparable. You’re stuck with me.”
“I like being stuck with you.” She smiles and nods. I feel the shift in her breathing. The war in her body rages and will take time to win. We’ve reclaimed this minute.
She draws in a steadier breath and rests her head against my chest. Her messy waves tickle my collarbone. She smells like the lavender shampoo Charlie sent in a gift package, delivered by Harper and Katar. A small comfort of home. I hold her, heart to heart.
After a long moment, she tips her head back, moonlight catching her eyes. “I hate that he lives in my head.”
I squeeze her. “Then let’s evict him. I’m the only one allowed to live rent-free in your head.” I use some of the Book Girlie speak she’s taught me.
Her mouth crooks with amusement. She’s slowly coming back to me. “You’ve taken up way too much space in my head.”
I drift my palm over the soft curve of her shoulder. “Now who’s obsessed?”
She laughs into my pec. Not her normal, light laugh, but it’s warming up. “I’ll gladly admit that I’m obsessed with you.” Her fingers crawl down the middle of my stomach, tracing the outline of my abs. “Come here, Grumpy, and erase my nightmare.”
Her hand’s on my stomach, but this isn’t a trauma response. She’s choosing. Taking back the wheel from the nightmare. Glitter first, sanity second.
Before we go there, I lean back, stroking her arm lightly. “Put the brakes on anything romantic for a moment. Tell me what you need before I screw this up again.”
The smoldering wreckage sits heavy between us, and I don’t want to use sex as a fire extinguisher to put it out and pretend we’re fine. I fucked up and have to atone for it. I’ve gone over this a hundred ways in my head. I’m not naive enough to think running from the city cleared us of what I did.
Her eyes soften, telling me I’m not up for another battle. “I think I understand why you deceived me. You were protecting everyone. The city, Spartacus, your friends, and me. That’s a huge task and not easy to balance.”
“Yes, that was the goal.” I link our fingers and squeeze tightly. “I’m not doing it alone anymore. I’ve got a blinding light here along for the ride.”
She gives me a half-smile.
“I didn’t lie to manipulate you,” I admit. “I didn’t trust you’d still want me when you knew the whole truth. And I couldn’t lose you again. The first time wrecked me.”
She nods as the dark truth sinks in.
“You were an asshole to leave me. Twice!” Her voice doesn’t flinch.
I don’t think I can survive another mortar round to the chest. “Yeah, I was. I never wanted to hurt you by leaving.”
“But you’re my asshole.” She clasps my bicep. “And being angry at you only keeps me alone.”
Fuck. She’s giving me another chance.
I brush my palm down her arm and wait for her next words.
Her grip clamps on me like she never wants to let me go. “I want to put that in the past, move forward, and forgive you.”
The smoldering wreckage between us goes up in flames and burns to ash.
I cup the back of her neck and bring her forehead to mine. “So do I. But only if you call me Hell King or King Daddy.”
Josh snorts and rolls onto his belly, as if objecting to his fur-mom giving me a higher rank than him.
A smile curves her mouth. “No objection here.”
Josh growls at us both, and we laugh.
“Okay,” she whispers, smuggling closer. “Now erase my nightmare.”
Her touch asks for closeness and comfort. I’ll give her that. Restore the power she loses in her dreams.
I let her lead and take what she needs. Our kiss is light and unhurried, our tongues rolling over the other My hand finds her hip beneath the sheets, warm and softer than silk.
Her breath catches at the contact, but she doesn’t shrink.
She presses closer, kisses me harder, surrendering all of herself to me, glitter and all.
I kiss her with the promise to never leave or lie again.
The dog snores and stutters, already asleep.
I smile into her mouth. “Josh is going to need therapy. All this talk of war and dirty talk.”
Her smile reaches her eyes this time. “He sleeps through it. He’ll survive.”
My hand tangles in her hair. “Well, if he does, I’ve put aside a slush fund.”
Her fingers glide along the line of my shoulder, tracing where muscle meets scar tissue, reading a story etched in flesh, where every mark is a stroke from the brush that painted my scars.
Our kisses twist into fire and spice. Our hands paw at each other, desperate and hungry.
I pull back, checking that she hasn’t changed her mind. “You sure, baby?”
She nods, her eyes glowing with love. “I want this with you.”
“Then let’s go slow,” I whisper.
And we do. I kiss every inch of her jaw, and she sighs, melting into me. I move like she’s glass and gold, fragile, precious, beautiful, but everything I long to hold. My lips paint all of her face, erasing all her mental and physical scars, one kiss at a time.
Her hands drag through my hair. I kiss her neck, the pulse thrumming with arousal.
We move like the world has shrunk down to this bed.
She guides me into her inch by inch, and I swear, I nearly lose it.
Her body welcomes me, grips me tightly. I bury my face in her shoulder as I move, kissing the freckle that I love.
She arches into every thrust, one hand gripping my arm, her mouth letting out a soft moan.
When she lets go, she’s so damn beautiful and free, I can barely hold myself together.
“God, Glitter Bomb,” I grunt.
Her nails dig into my shoulder and scalp, and she wraps her legs around my hips, drawing me deeper. Our rhythm is on a different schedule from our normal fireworks. This is comfort and surrender. No ropes or role-playing. Just two people stitching the other back together in the dark.
She gasps when I whisper her name into her mouth. Shudders when I remind her she’s safe. Comes apart beneath me with a soft sob that undoes me.
We collapse in a tangle of limbs and sweat. Kate rolls onto her side and lies with her head under my chin. She traces lazy circles on my ribs.
I stroke her hair, letting my breath sync with hers. “Are you okay?”
“Absolutely. That got a five-star rating, Daddy.” She punctuates each word with a kiss to my chest.
“I thought I was a ten...” I’ve picked up her book girlie terminology fast. “Where’s your gag? You’ll beg for eleven.”
She giggles. “You’re definitely my dream book boyfriend.”
No other words can possibly make me happier.
“Stay there.” I ease out from beside her and go into the bathroom, filling up a glass of water and grabbing a face cloth from the bathroom.
When I return, she blinks up at me, dazed.
“Drink, baby.” I tip the glass to her lips.
She drinks, hands curled around the glass. When she takes what she needs, I put the glass on her night table.
I crouch by the bed and gently wipe her down of sweat and cum. She watches me, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyelids heavy. Once she’s clean, I pull out one of my shirts from the drawers and bring it back to the bed.
“Sit up, baby.” I fold it over her head when she does as I ask. Soft cotton and too big, but I like it on her.
Her legs curl toward me as I slide in beside her and tuck the covers over her, trapping the warmth around us.
She shifts and finds the hollow beneath her chin, her breath fanning over my chest. I rub small circles between her shoulder blades, working out the remaining tension from her dream.
She murmurs when I kiss the side of her head. Droopy eyelids close as she relaxes.
“You take such good care of me, King Daddy.” Her voice slurs.
I drag a lazy finger down her arm and study her profile in the early light. “How about you sleep and I cook?”
She’s endured too much turbulence over the last few days and needs rest and peace of mind.
“You’ve got a deal, Daddy Dildo.” She pinches my jaw and pulls me down for a final kiss.
“Keep calling me that and you’re eating burnt pancakes, Glitter Bomb,” I growl into her throat.
She giggles and kisses me deeper. The moment she lets me go, I slide out of bed, and pull on a pair of sweats.
“You’re on guard duty, PJ3.” I ruffle the prince’s head, and leave the room.