The Cat and Bird Have No Restraint
DELILAH
H is sapphire eyes gleam down at me as we curl together, sweaty and happy. “See, baby? It’s all about restraint.”
“We have serious willpower,” I murmur, sliding my fingers down his spine lightly. That’s about as far as I can move.
“Does our fantastic lack of willpower bother you? Do you wish I had more? We don’t always have to shag. I’m not with you just for the sex.”
I laugh throatily. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d make me moan less in pleasure. It’s going on my Christmas list this year.”
“Christmas is rather far away, love. Are you sure you want to suffer through the wild, crazy orgasms until then?” His grin is infectious, and I reach up to push a lock of hair off his forehead.
“I could make it a New Year’s resolution, I suppose. Maybe for Valentine’s Day...”
“My Minx, I’m starting to think that you don’t actually want to give up the blood play and brain melting orgasms.”
“You know, you might be right.” I tap his nose playfully, smiling.
“Bloody right I am.” He holds me close, turning us so we’re snuggled in.
I nuzzle his shoulder before my eyes pop open. “You’ve made me a lech.”
“ Me ? I made you a lech? How could I make you — Wait a tic…what’s a lech?”
Lifting my index finger, I quote, “One, especially a male, who is excessively concerned with sexual pleasure.”
His jaw drops open. The humor in my statement suddenly catches up with him and he starts to laugh. He wipes his eyes when they leak—positively hooting with mirth—as he tries to calm himself. Taurus kisses my shoulder, only to howl again when he looks at me. “Me?! I’ve made you a lech.”
“Yup. It’s all your fault. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” I nod, looking serious as I cross my arms over my chest.
He rests his forehead against mine, finally able to control the snorts. “I think we’re both letches, and we corrupt each other. How about that for a compromise?”
“Agreed,” I take his hand and shake it.
My phone pings from the table and I pick it up, frowning at the email. Tossing it back with a growl, I settle in. He takes in my sour expression with the arch of a brow. I’ll have to explain or he’ll wig out.
“Town biz. Lily and I have to read everything for rule violations. Something’s in the water today because there are a lot of posts and I’ve been ignoring them. Lily pinged me because this is a person she refuses to manage. We both have folks like that and we trade off. She wants me to make sure I read it because it’s apparently fucking long, so it could be hiding all manner of bullshit.”
He nods, understanding. “Is that why you look like you fucked a cactus?”
Covering my mouth as a giggle escapes, I shoot him a dirty look. “ No . It’s because if people don’t quit writing bad romance crap that I have to read, I’m going to firebomb their house.” He snickers and I glare harder. “Do you know why ? Because of their tripe, I almost said ridiculous phrases to you to prove that the lechery is your fault. They all come from that shit!”
“Like what?” he asks, trying to look innocent.
Growling, I smack his chest. “Pulsating. Nuances. Gates of my womanhood… Ugh.”
“Gates of your womanhood? Is that like some hotel card swipe thing? Where do you tuck that away then?”
I rub my face, irritated beyond belief as I throw my hands in the air to plead to the heavens. “I’m going to say this one more time to everyone in the universe. There is no key to my pants!”
His expression hardens and he lets go of my hips. “I’d really rather you not wax philosophic about what you’ve told others about getting into your knickers.”
My arms drop and I frown as I look down at him. “It’s some ‘ha-ha funny’ rumor people bring up every once in a while— like an urban legend. When you asked that, I thought you’d heard and decided to tease me about it.”
“Telling me isn’t quite the same as ‘telling everyone in the universe’ like you said on the first go round.”
“The very idea is a French farce in the making, so I’m denying it yet again.”
“Interesting.”
“I don’t think you imagining a chastity belt for Christmas is what I hoped you’d glean from that confession.”
“Probably not, as one of those would probably spontaneously rust right off of you.”
Ouch. Maybe I’m sensitive because Sari called me a tramp yesterday, but I think he just slammed my sex life. My lips curl into a sneer as the anger fills my veins. Everyone loves ‘good time’ Deli when she’s with them, but when they feel threatened they get ugly.
The hurt makes me vindictive and I tilt my head, purposefully musing aloud. “I wonder who’d have that key.”
He doesn’t look at me, only swallows and looks out the window.
“Planning on hiding it?” I push again, needing to get my power back.
“Suddenly not really liking this conversation.”
He started this when he slung a nasty at me. I swallow hard, my hands shaking as I push all my emotions into my feet so I can pretend it’s all okay. I have a lot of experience doing this to make people feel better about hurting me, but I didn’t think I’d have to do it with him. “We can talk about something else.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He sits up quickly, shifting me off of him. I watch as he locates his pants, shirt and duster. After putting them on, he grabs his phone and pockets it. “I’ve got to get going.”
I’m still smarting from the blow and now I’m worried as fuck. I can’t let him see the weakness, though, because then he will have a weapon for later. So I nod. “I see.”
Taurus still doesn’t look at me, but he sits down next to me to put on his Ferragamos. I stand, feeling like more than my body is naked. I tug on my clothes quietly, finally dropping onto the other end of the couch. I’m raw and exposed and I’m not giving him access to wound me further.
“It’s not you; it’s me,” he starts, looking over at the gap between us with a frown.
I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.” I’ll be damned if I let another person that’s supposed to love me make me feel like garbage this week. I can do that all on my own.
“Why, because it doesn’t matter to you or because it shouldn’t matter to me?” He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “Stop—don’t answer that.”
Joke’s on you, asshole, because I wasn’t going to answer shit. I stay silent, building the walls up inside of me again. This fucking bullshit is why I don’t let anyone past them anymore. Everyone is a goddamned disappointment if you give them enough time.
He sighs. “I’m extra sensitive about some things because of yesterday—it’s the blood. It makes me more... Well, it does something to a clone. I’m close to saying something I’d regret. I’m not going to say it, but I want you to know that this is not your problem, nor is it your fault. You are who you are, and I am who I am.”
My eyes darken and I force myself to grind out an answer even though it makes my stomach roil in protest. “You are my mate. That’s all that matters.”
If he’s surprised at the arctic chill in my tone, he doesn’t show it. He drops his head and exhales, as if he has to carefully select what he’s going to say. “That’s not true, is it? When I’m here, that’s how it feels and I’m fine. But others intrude, the truth comes home with a kick and a slice.”
The beast rumbles inside of me, Her need to protect flaring as my pulse speeds up. Anger, pain, and fear are making my survival instincts kick into gear. My skin feels hot and my veins throb, but I keep pushing the emotions down so that he won’t have the satisfaction of knowing what his words are doing to me.
My voice is flat and emotionless as I reply, “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t bled anyone since the feather.”
“Oh, baby,” he sighs and I shoot daggers at the side of his head as he looks at the floor. He doesn’t get to call me that when he’s ripping me to shreds. “Yes, that makes me feel better, but also so much worse. I know there will be a day when you won’t be able to say that, and I’m not talking about Rafe.”
I don’t react. I don’t even flinch when he gets up and walks over to run his fingers over my jaw.
“I’m raw. This is all new—the drinking and the claiming. It makes me a thousand times more possessive than normal. At least, I hope that’s what it is.”
“Yeah,” I say, not moving a muscle as he stands there looking at me.
“You are still listening to me rip the heart out of my chest, right?”
My eyes flick up to him, the rage in them cloaked behind nonchalance. I refuse to let him know that I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do when he finishes breaking my heart after this. Because I know as surely as the sun will rise, I’ll be getting a heartfelt kiss off when we next meet.“Yes. I’m processing.”
“Maybe I should leave you to it. I’ve got to get out of here, anyway,” he says, his voice sad.
I can’t stop him. I can’t be the one to reach out; it hurts too much. “Okay.”
He closes the distance between us long enough to press a kiss to my forehead before turning around and walking towards the door. “I’ll miss you,” he mumbles.
Watching him go, I wait until he’s gone before I murmur to myself, “I’ll miss you, too.”
Goddess above, I am so fucked.