Chapter 38 #2
I hit him again, but I’m laughing. I prop myself up on an elbow. “What I meant was that there’s hardly anyone on this floor right now. Half the sorority sisters sneak over to Ashford House every night. Even Lou.”
Carrson settles deeper into the pillow, running his hand up and down my back. The steady motion makes my eyelids droop. I sink into his chest.
“Mmm. Keep going,” I murmur. “That feels good.”
His chest lifts in a silent laugh. “I like making you feel good.”
“Works for both of us.” I yawn, eyes closing. My body spent.
“They go to their bonded.”
My eyes flutter open. “Who?”
“The sisters.” His hand moves to my hair, smoothing it down in slow strokes, like he can’t not touch me. “They go to their bonded men at night.”
“Bonded?” I peer up at him. “You mean the blood oath? The scars on their palms?” I’ve noticed it more lately, not just Lou. Lots of the women have the same mark.
He nods.
“What is that, exactly?” I ask. “Like a marriage?”
“Kinda. We don’t do rings here.” A pause. “We do daggers. Blood.”
I roll my eyes. “Why am I not surprised.” I drop my head back to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
“Oh!” I half-sit up, grinning. “I forgot to tell you.”
“What?” He looks up at me, a little drowsy, and it almost undoes me.
How good he looks like this, naked in my bed. Relaxed in a way I don’t see often. So different from when I first met him.
“Uh…” I lose my train of thought, distracted by the curve of his ear, the hollow at the base of his throat, the dark wave of his hair where it falls over his forehead.
I reach up, smoothing it back. “Oh—right. Lou was talking about graduating in two years, and next year she’ll have to pick someone to start training as her replacement.
She looked right at me when she said it.
” I clasp my hands to my chest, beaming.
“She said she’d have to talk to you about it. Will you say yes? If she asks?”
I expect him to match my excitement.
Instead, he goes quiet, thinking. “You’d have to be a sister,” he says slowly. “But…”
“What? But what?” I lean closer, searching his face.
“I guess…” He exhales, like he’s working through it. “Maybe it could work.” His expression softens. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I hesitate, gnawing on my lip.
“Is it bad?” I ask. “That I want it? That I always want more?”
“Fuck no.” His hand comes up, hooking behind my neck, pulling me down to him. Our mouths meet, and that heat sparks instantly, like we just had our fill and still want more.
When we part, he’s smiling at me. “I like that you want more,” he says. “Don’t ever stop.”
His thumb brushes my jaw, the gesture so tender it makes my eyes sting. He kisses me again and time slips, draws out, loses meaning. There’s only the touch of his hands, his lips, the way our bodies find each other. A quiet conversation, built from whispers and breath, held and then let go.
“I have to leave soon,” he says once we come back to ourselves.
“Why?” I grumble with my eyes closed, pulling him closer as if I could keep him. Force him to stay.
“Because I’m not supposed to be here,” he says, patiently.
“But I want to sleep with you.”
A laugh rumbles through him. “I did sleep with you. Twice.”
“No. I mean actually sleep. Like…snoring and dreams and stuff.”
“You snore?”
I crack one eye open. “Of all things, that’s what you latched onto?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Fine,” I huff. “I breathe with enthusiasm.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It’s not my fault I’m alive, Carrson.” I wave a hand at him. “Anyway, we’re getting off track. If I was bonded to you, could I stay with you? Like, all night?”
“If you’re next to me,” he tickles my ribs and I squeal, “I sure as hell wouldn’t be sleeping the whole time.” He grins. “But yeah. Bonded men and women sleep together.”
Excitement sparks so fast I sit up, clapping my hands. “You should bond me.”
He goes frozen. Then turns pale. “You’d want that?” he asks. “With me?”
“Of course.” I lay back down, tucking myself under his arm.
He’s quiet so long I start to worry.
“It’s more complicated than that,” he says finally. His hand slips back into my hair, gently working through the strands. “To be bonded, you have to be a sister.”
“I tried to pledge when I first got here, but they said they weren’t taking new members.”
“It’s not the sorority.” His hand drops to my shoulder, heavy. “You have to join The Order. Become a sister in it.” His grip firms. “Once you’re in, there’s no leaving. No way out except a coffin.”
“What?” I joke. “You’re the Mafia now?”
“Basically.”
“Oh.” I snap my mouth closed, not sure how to follow that up.
“I don’t—” he stops himself, coughing, like the words came out wrong.
I wince, already filling the blanks.
I don’t like you enough.
I don’t want that kind of commitment.
“I don’t—I don’t know,” he says, trying again, “if I’m worth it. For you to give up so much.”
There’s something in his voice I haven’t heard before. Defeat.
I climb on top of him, pressing my body along his.
“You are,” I tell him fervently.
I’m not thinking about Remi right now. Or politics. Or the world. Just this, the way he feels under me. The fact that in a few minutes he’ll walk out the door, and how much I hate that.
“Carrson,” I take his face in my hands and tell him again, “you’re worth it to me.”
“Becky?” His eyes search mine, uncertain, a little afraid. “What does love feel like?”
My lips find his and I kiss him, pouring all my feelings into it, hoping he knows it’s a decision I won’t take back.
When I break the kiss, my forehead rests against his.
“Like that,” I whisper.