28. Lincoln
28
Lincoln
“Di, do you need anything else before I head out?”
“No, go. Your presence is annoying today, and I’ll be happy once you leave,” Diana responds, not looking up from her vegetables sautéing on the stove.
I snort at her words, shrugging off my coat and draping it across my forearm. “Sweet as always.”
“Fuck off and get out of the kitchen, Chef.”
Rolling my eyes, I salute Diana and wave at the rest of the kitchen team deep in the second wave of diners. I rarely leave the kitchen while it’s still light out, staying until the last seating to clean and prep for the next day’s service. But today, being on the earlier shift is a relief.
I walk quickly through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the employee locker room, grabbing my bag before locking myself in one of the shower rooms Franki and Kate stock up for the staff. I shed my clothes, rolling them up before shoving them in the front compartment of my backpack and turning the water to hot. The shower heats in seconds, and I step under the spray, letting the hot water relax my muscles and wash over me.
If I were in my apartment, I’d take my time, scrub the soap into my skin, and let my mind drift to scenes I probably shouldn’t imagine, scenes involving a petite brunette with large eyes and long hair. But since I’m not home, I take a utilitarian shower, harshly working the soap into my skin to clean the scent of food off my body, but not deriving any pleasure from the act.
I give myself five minutes before I turn the water off and grab the towel I hung on the hook right outside the stall. Running the cotton fabric over my body, I toss the towel over my shoulder as I pull on the briefs and sweatpants I packed. Dropping the towel to the floor, I throw a T-shirt over my head and clean any evidence of my presence. It’s only when I’m walking out of the employee entrance of Garganello’s and heading toward the open lot where I park my car that I take out my phone and turn it back on.
Immediately, notifications bombard, and I can’t help the “What the fuck?” that escapes as I see missed calls from Ava and Greyson, along with forty texts in the group chat I share with Dante and Grey. Instinctually—and based on obvious evidence—I know something is wrong. I click on Grey’s number and bring my phone to my ear, surprised when he answers after the first ring.
“Linc, I need you to go check on Seraphina. She’s at the Marymount library.” Grey bypasses a greeting, and I’m grateful he cut straight to the point.
“What the fuck happened?” I increase my speed, almost jogging in a need to get to my car faster than a normal walk would allow.
“A guy from small’s high school cornered her in the library and, from what Ava said, freaked her out pretty bad. Rafe is checking on her roommate, but someone needs to check on Seraphina.”
“Done.” I don’t question anything, knowing that for Seraphina to ask for any kind of help, she must be in a bad spot. “I’ll let you know how she is.” I hang up on Grey and pocket my phone, breaking out into a full run as I try not to bang into the other pedestrians on the sidewalk.
—
The drive to the library should have taken forty-five minutes.
I made it in twenty.
Shifting my car into park, I throw my door open with more force than I normally would and stride to the library’s entrance. A sense of déjà vu comes over as I walk over the threshold, memories of my days spent studying assaulting me at the smell of paper and wood cleaner. I don’t make it three steps before a voice stops me.
“And who might you be?” I look to my left, surprised by the accusation in the question. The woman approaching me, who can only be described as a geriatric Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus, has a stern look on her face.
If I wasn’t over a foot taller than her, I’d be concerned that she was going to try to beat my ass. Honestly, my height may not deter her if the scowl is anything to go by.
“I’m looking for Seraphina Gregori,” I supply, hunching my shoulders and loosening my posture to make myself seem smaller and less intimidating. Hopefully, it’ll alleviate the look of absolute death on this woman’s face.
“And what do you want with our Seraphina?” She crosses her arms, looking me up and down as though she’s sizing me up. “If you’re one of those…” She pauses, looking around before continuing in a low voice, “fuck boys, you can march right out of here.”
I choke on a laugh, not expecting the profanity from the deceptively sweet-looking woman. “I’m not that. I’m Lincoln.”
I don’t know what the hell I said to put this woman at ease, but as soon as I finish speaking, her body loses the rigidity that strung her tight, and she releases a hum.
“Sera is in the archive room in the basement. Just go down the hall to your left and take the staircase all the way to the bottom. Follow the sound of the scanner, and you’ll find her down there, probably buried under a mound of paperwork.” She shakes her head, looking upward. “I told the provost we needed more funding and at least two more part-time staff, but did I get that? Of course not. Now—”
“Okay,” I cut her off, clearing my throat in the most respectful way possible. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go down and see cíe—Seraphina,” I correct myself.
“Yes, yes, of course.” She waves her hand, motioning me to go. I start to turn toward the hall she indicated when her voice stops me once again. “And no food or drink downstairs, Mr. Lincoln.” She gives me a curt nod, her demeanor shifting back to professional before she walks away.
I shake my head, confused as fuck by that interaction.
Following her directions, I walk down the hall and easily find the stairway leading to the basement. It’s surprisingly well-lit, nothing like I imagined when she told me Sera was in the basement. Keeping my footsteps light, I let the loud hum of the scanner guide my movements and carry me to Sera’s orbit.
I freeze when I see her—so fucking pretty, even from behind. Her hair hangs long and loose, hitting just above her ass as she sways back and forth, moving documents from a large container into the scanner. She pauses, typing something into the large computer in front of her before returning her attention to the scanner.
I allow myself a few seconds of uninterrupted, unknown observation, something I’ve never gotten with her. Her movements are graceful, her body strong, the definition of muscle on her arms flexing with each movement she makes.
Her body deflates, and it’s then that I realize how much tension she’s carrying in her shoulders. Dropping what appears to be the final page in the box, she twists her back side to side, the cracking of her bones echoing in the otherwise quiet space.
Until her moan slips out, and then it’s like the only thing I can do is get my hands on her and relieve whatever pain I can from her body.
I move quickly, not bothering to remain quiet since she has those earphones plugged into her ear. I rationalize that I’m about to scare the shit out of her and make her jump ten feet in the air. And I feel bad about that, I really do.
But I’ll apologize after offering her some comfort for however long she’ll let me.
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I knead my thumbs into her neck and feel her stiffen before her shoulders relax, almost like she knows she’s safe with me. She tries to move back and push her body against mine, but I keep her in place, not allowing her to break my hold.
I continue my ministrations as she pulls out an earphone and asks, “Who— What are you doing?”
I allow myself to inhale her scent and absorb her voice before squeezing harder, applying more pressure to her pulse points. “Shh, cierń. Let me take care of you.”
“Lincoln?” Her hand comes up, gripping my wrist and silently asking me to stop.
“Seraphina?” I match her tone, pausing while she has her silent freak-out. Moving with a speed I don’t expect, she whirls around, pressing her back against the scanner as she faces me.
“What are you doing here? How did you know I was down here?”
“Ms. Frizzle told me.”
“Who— Oh, May? That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”
I shrug, staring down at her big brown eyes. “You’re hurting, cierń. What did you expect me to do?”
“I don’t—you. Lincoln,” she whispers. I watch, enraptured, as Seraphina finally breaks. It’s not loud, gut-wrenching sobs, screams, and dramatics. No, my little thorn wilts, silent, isolated tears trailing down each eye as she looks up at me. She’s pitiful and beautiful, and it’s a fucking lethal combination.
“Ser—” I stop short, the air rushing out of me as she throws her body against mine, clinging to my waist like it’s her salvation. “Cierń, baby, don’t cry.”
Where her tears were silent before, now they’re full-body sobs shaking the foundation of her core. I hold her close, gathering her until I’m breathing in her air, inhaling her apple scent, and feasting on her cries.
It shouldn’t make me happy that she’s a mess in my arms, but I prefer it to the alternative: her holding everything in and waiting to detonate.
I don’t know how long I hold her, letting her cry on my chest as she purges whatever feelings she has, but sooner than I’d like, she starts to pull away. I let her go, giving her whatever space it is that she needs.
“You okay, Seraphina?”
“How did you know I was here?” I don’t miss how she didn’t answer my question, but I let it go. For now.
“Grey called me,” I answer cautiously, unsure how she’ll respond.
She sighs, not responding to my order. “I should have known.”
Gathering her hair in my hands, I tilt her head back, guiding her chin up so that she’s looking at me. “What happened, cierń?”
She stares at me, jaw tight and immobile. Feathering a finger over her cheekbone, I trace the indentations of her bone structure, memorizing the feel of her. I don’t push her to speak or entice her to use her words. I just trace her face as though I’m studying a work of art.
Which, in a way, I am.
“Do you remember when I told you I was going to give Mitch another chance?” she finally whispers, the words tumbling from her mouth as though she can’t hold it in anymore. I nod my head but don’t speak. “You know I didn’t want to, but Mitch threatened me, told me he and his dad had evidence that my parents tampered with a witness testimony. His father was running for senate or governor or some other public office at the time, and there were photos of Mitch circulating, photos his father needed to combat with a good-boy, devoted-boyfriend image. Mitch told me that if I didn’t go along with the bullshit charade, they would actively ruin and discredit my parents and their work, their legacy. I was going to confront them, but when I went home that afternoon, I saw what I thought was an admission of guilt, and so I went along with Mitch’s plan. But then, everything changed.” She takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly as she looks away, her eyes unfocused like she’s reliving events she doesn’t want to see again.
“Did you know I was going to tell you that afternoon at the barbecue at your college house? I nearly did, but then Mitch interrupted us. We left right after that, and he brought us to his friend Chris’s parents’ beach house. I wanted to leave, but I ended up telling Bianca what happened. She dragged me back to the stupid house, to the stupid party, and Mitch erupted. He tried to hit my sister, but I stepped in front of him, and his swing got me instead, chipped my tooth and popped the blood vessels in my left eye. It was not good, to say the least.”
My jaw clenches at her admission, and my hand cups her jaw with the reverence she deserves. “I will kill him.”
She winces, turning her face into my palm to hide from me. “No, you won’t. But thank you for wanting to.”
“Look at me, cierń.”
It takes her a moment to process my words, to figure out if she will obey or defy my command. When she finally looks at me, I feel my chest inflate and my cock harden.
There’s defiance in her eyes, but hope and sadness and lust too, a potent-as-fuck cocktail where she’s concerned.
“I’m sorry, so fucking sorry you went through that. But what happened tonight to upset you?” I’m sure it has to do with the prick she used to date, but I want to know all the same.
“I saw Chris, Mitch’s best friend, twice in the library. Tonight, he cornered me and mentioned that he knew Olivia, and from what he said and what I know, he hurt her. An-and I didn’t know what to do, so I ran.”
“Cierń , fuck.” Moving my palm from her face, I haul her body into mine and squeeze her shoulders. “You did the right thing by calling Ava. If you think you’re in danger, if you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, you call someone. Me, Ava, you brother, your parents; I don’t care who, but you call, okay?” She nods, her head moving minutely. I stare at her, taking in her tight shoulders, downcast eyes, and drawn face. I don’t like how broken she looks, and I know that I have to do anything I can to pull her out of the state she’s in.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Do you trust me?”
She doesn’t hesitate and nods immediately.
“Can I touch you?”
This time, I watch her play the question back, considering the implications. It takes her a moment, but she nods again. I stare at her, weighing her consent before I lower my hand from her face. “You say stop, and I stop, yeah?”
“Okay.” She swallows, her eyes wide as they track my hands.
Gripping her around the waist, I lift her body high enough that her face is eye-level with mine. On instinct, she wraps her arms around my neck, clutching my body, but she remains silent, though I see the unasked questions in her eyes.
Setting her down on a clear table, I move my hands to her fingers, unleashing them from my skin and holding them up in front of me. Kissing each palm, I lower her hands to the table and place mine beside her, caging her in.
Everything about our position mimics that of our first kiss, the one that ignited this thing between us.
“What are you doing?” she asks, and I can taste the desire on her breath, sending a jolt of lust straight to my cock. I shift my hips back, careful not to brush against her stomach as I move.
“You weren’t touching me that night, cierń. Relax for me,” I order.
“What—” she starts, but I cut her off, capturing her lips in a light kiss, one meant to soothe. My lips work over hers, opening her up for me until I’m able to slip my tongue inside to tangle with hers.
I deepen the kiss, pressing more firmly against her as my hands move to cradle her jaw and set her head in the exact position I need. Ripping my mouth from hers, I trail my tongue down her neck, not stopping until I’m at her pulse point and can feel the thrumming of her heart through the fragile skin.
Laying my mouth against her, I suck hard, leaving a mark in the same spot I marked her the first time. But this time, I won’t let anyone confuse the bite for a curling iron burn.
Moving my lips lower, I bite at the flesh below her newly marked skin, creating a pattern of bruises that declare Seraphina as mine.
“Linc, god,” she whimpers, pressing her body against mine, trying to gain some relief.
Pulling back, I straighten her head, careful not to jostle her body as I reposition us.
“As sweet as I fucking remember, cierń.” Unable to help myself, I lean back in, biting her lower lip before soothing the pain with my mouth. “We need to go, Seraphina.”
My words register, pulling her out of the haze she’s in. “Oh. Oh my god. Lincoln, I work here. We can’t— This is—” She stops, shaking her head and pressing her hands against my chest. She probably meant to push me away, but she’s gripping my T-shirt, holding me close to her as she processes the recreation of our first kiss.
“It’s okay, Seraphina.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “What time is it?”
Releasing my hold on her, I pull out my phone and check. “It’s almost nine fifteen.”
“My shift ended at nine. Let me clean up down here, and then we can go.” She nods to herself, confirming the plan she just laid out.
She tries to slide down from the table, miscalculating how closely I’m standing to it. As she moves her body, it rubs against mine, lining her up perfectly with my cock. If we had on fewer clothes and were in any other situation, I wouldn’t hesitate to take my time with Seraphina, making sure that there was no distance between us. She presses against my pelvis, shooting pressure and desire straight to my balls, and I grit my teeth, closing my eyes against the sensation.
She stiffens at the feeling, the hardness between her legs that must be foreign to her, unless— “Seraphina,” I growl, one hand still on her jaw.
“Sorry,” she says, swallowing audibly.
I step back, dropping my hand from her face and giving her space to move. I watch the emotions play out on her face: confusion, longing, annoyance. But she shutters them quickly, donning a mask like I don’t know exactly what’s going through her head.
She lowers her gaze as she drops to the floor and tries to shuffle past me.
Grabbing her around her waist, I lift her once more, moving quickly until she’s pressed between my body and the wall. Invading her space, I whisper in her ear.
“Wipe that look off your face, cierń. The only thing I want to do right now is lay you down on top of these papers and make you feel good, but we’ve already taken it too far.” I lower her over my dick, letting her feel the outline of my erection. “I’m about to come in my jeans from kissing you, from seeing that mark bloom like a goddamn rose on your neck.” I punctuate my claims by pressing a soft kiss against her mouth for the treason her mind committed.
“Tell me you feel it, Seraphina.”
“It’s hard not to,” she squeaks, shifting against my cock and moaning. I don’t know if it’s the feel of her or the way her voice sounds wrapped up in pleasure, but I’m two seconds away from saying “fuck it” and—
Shaking my head, I expel the lust from my mind and lower her to the ground before stepping back and holding up my hands, like if she gets too close, I can’t be responsible for what happens.
“We need to leave. Now.”
She remains silent this time, nodding her head rapidly as she flies around the basement, quickly shoving papers in boxes and turning off the machines.
“Okay,” she croaks out, breathless and slightly disheveled. “I’m all set.”
Nodding, I grab her bag and gesture for her to lead the way, following behind as she climbs the stairs to the first floor.
I could have helped her fix her hair and straighten her clothes. And I definitely could have wiped the sticky lip gloss I felt on my lips after I attacked her mouth. But I don’t.
I don’t know who the fuck comes into the library, but I want everyone to know that Seraphina Rose Gregori is mine.
I’ll wear the remnants of her makeup as a badge of honor, a sign to show other people to stay the fuck away.