Chapter Seventeen
Byron
“Oh, my gosh. You guys?! You look so stinking cute together,” Astrid beamed as I walked into her shop with Wilder. I was holding his hand, and I’d refused to let it go. I liked the way it fit in mine, like a perfectly sized little puzzle piece that was just for me.
Things felt like they’d shifted last night. Wilder was more open to me being a permanent fixture in his life—not that he ever really had a choice—but it showed promise.
I was high this morning. On adrenaline and endorphins and all the good things because of Wilder. My body was vibrating with the need to show him off because he was mine and I wanted the whole world to know that.
“We are, aren’t we?” I replied to Astrid since Wilder had lost his voice somewhere behind his flushed cheeks.
“Yes,” she replied before turning to Wilder. “You look happier than the last time I saw you. I’m glad.”
Jealousy stabbed me sharply in the chest. Last time? Were these two friends?
“I am,” Wilder said with a simple shrug of his shoulder. “And thank you for the business card.”
Astrid’s bubble gum pink eyes narrowed as she leant over the counter. “Did it work?”
Wilder nodded. “Yes—”
“Wait. You’re the one who gave him that asshole’s contact card?” I cut in.
“I did. I know a lot of people, and I wanted to help my friend,” she said as tinkered with a few potion bottles on her counter before looking me dead in the eye. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Only if your idea of ‘help’ constitutes as something dangerous.”
Wilder backhanded me in the chest. “Stop it, Byron. You’re being a dick.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” I chuckled with amusement. “Insulting an assassin?”
Wilder’s gaze flicked between Astrid and me.
“Don’t worry about Astrid, baby. We go way back.”
A cute little frown appeared between his brows before they flew up to his hairline.
Shit.
“Is this where you got the potion you drugged me with?” he whisper-hissed in my ear. We were the only ones in the shop—I’d checked when we walked in—so he didn’t really need to whisper.
“What?” Astrid said, completely taken aback.
Wilder whirled around to face Astrid. “Did you know?”
“No,” she gasped, looking shocked.
“Look what he did to me,” Wilder spat as he pointed to his neck.
A delicious little thrill of ownership curled around the base of my spine, and a satisfied hum left my lips at the sight of the bold letters inked onto his throat.
“Whoa,” Astrid said as she peered at the tattoo with a deep frown. “That’s a little extreme.”
“Extreme?!” Wilder said through gritted teeth. “It’s invasive and violating.”
I gripped Wilder’s chin and pulled his violet eyes to mine. “Hush now, baby. You don’t really hate it.”
He swallowed against my grip, and I brushed my thumb along the four letters. His eyelids fluttered and his pupils widened under my touch. He let out a shaky exhale and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.
“So responsive, baby,” I drawled, my thumb still trailing across his skin.
“Jesus Christ, you two are intense,” Astrid said, a hint of a rasp in her voice.
When I finally dragged my gaze away from Wilder and back to Astrid, there was a faint bloom across her cheeks.
‘Intense’ was definitely a word I would use to describe Wilder and me. We’d always been explosive, the fuel to each other’s fire, but now, we burned brightly together.
“We had an agreement,” Astrid said, her hands firmly on her hips.
Yes, we had an agreement that I would use the items for the good of others, and we’d reached the point in our business relationship where she trusted me enough to hand over the potions without asking me what I was using them for.
That was her mistake.
Still, I was probably going to suffer if I wanted something from her again. Would she even still supply me? I hoped so. The guy I’d used before had been unreliable, expensive and cagey as shit.
“I can’t believe you make this kind of potion,” Wilder snapped at Astrid.
“Hey, listen here, doll,” she sassed back.
“I get that you’re angry, you have every right to be, but don’t you start questioning the potions that I brew.
Many of them have saved lives, including Byron’s.
And besides, I’ve known Byron a lot longer than I’ve known you and he’s never given me the impression that he was that stupid.
Am I sorry he used one of my potions on you, absolutely, but am I sorry for supplying him with the items he’d need to protect himself against superior creatures, absolutely not.
So, don’t you go mounting your high horse, mister. ”
“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly.
“And you,” she barked, rounding that fire on me. “How dare you use one of my potions on someone innocent? I should throw you out of my shop and remove you from my customer base.”
“But you won’t,” I replied. I knew how much my monetary contributions helped to keep this place afloat.
The Whispering Willow had been going for a while, and it was a potion store that catered to both humans and supernaturals.
Humans came in for love potions and lucky charms and crystals, but the real clientele were catered for in one of Astrid’s little black books.
People like me.
And there weren’t many people like me.
She folded her arms across her ample chest and scowled at me.
“No, I won’t. You’re too valuable. And you always ask for interesting things.
But I will be going back to asking for more pertinent information on the use of my potions from now on and if there is any hint of wrongdoing, then I will refuse to sell it to you. ”
“That seems fair.”
“Fuck me,” Wilder muttered under his breath as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “Will life ever return to some semblance of normality?”
“Probably not.” Astrid snorted and smiled ruefully. “Especially with this one around.”
I pulled his hands away from his face and squeezed them. “I promise I won’t use any of Astrid’s potions on you. Unless you ask me to, of course.”
Wilder scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I dread to think what you’d actually use on me.”
“Well, I was thinking about asking for a sleeping drug because I want to fuck you while—”
“Whoa!” Astrid shouted as she slammed her hands over her ears. “That’s way too much information. I’ll go and get your box of supplies, Wilder. Do not fuck in my shop. If I find cum stains on my floor, I’ll charge you double.”
“No promises,” I said with a chuckle as she disappeared into the back of her shop.
Wilder hit me with a flat stare. “I’m not fucking you in the shop.”
I took a step towards him, and he instinctively took one backward until he hit the counter. His eyes widened and his breath hitched as I crowded into his personal space. “Are you sure about that? How much are you willing to bet?”
“Byron,” he said, his voice full of desperate need. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Wilder? Don’t stop? Don’t let go?” I wrapped my hands around his hips and slipped my fingers under the hem of his jumper.
He let out a sharp exhale as I touched his skin and his legs widened, giving me space to lock my hips against his.
“Byron…,” he said, my name sounding like a desperate plea.
Our gazes were locked together, both unyielding and full of desire. The air hummed with the vibration of the tension between us, pulling tighter and tighter until one of us would finally snap.
I leaned in and scraped my teeth along his jaw. Wilder let his head roll backwards, a soft moan leaving his mouth as I traced my lips down his neck and over his pulse point.
He gasped sharply as I sank my teeth into the bruise that was already on his neck. Fuck, I needed to find a way to make that mark permanent. Maybe I’d ask Quill to tattoo that for me too.
Wilder’s hands fisted in my jacket as I rocked forward, slotting my hard cock against his.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he hummed as I rolled my hips against his.
I pulled back and gripped his chin in one of my hands, my fingers sinking into the hollow of his cheeks. “Then tell me to stop, baby.”
He swallowed and licked his lips. “I…can’t.”
“I know,” I said ruefully before crushing my mouth to his.
He responded instantly, giving over the control and letting me take what I wanted.
It was dirty, and wet and fuck, kissing Wilder was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
It was everything. Heat and fire and something raw and meaningful.
I could taste his desperation, feel his moans vibrate across my tongue and I wanted to drown in them. Drown in him.
I’d never get tired of this. Never get enough of him.
The bell tinkled over the door and Wilder broke away with a shocked little gasp. It was followed by an embarrassed little laugh as he looked over my shoulder for the person who’d interrupted us.
My hands squeezed Wilder’s hips as I fought the urge to cut the intruding idiot’s head off for disturbing us. The temptation was almost impossible to resist.
“You can’t kill him for walking into the shop, kitten,” Wilder said as he placed a kiss against my cheek.
“Spoilsport,” I replied. I let the tension leave my fingers and took a step back from Wilder before I whisked him away to sink my cock so deep into his ass, he wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.
Wilder looked like a hot mess. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed.
“What?” he said warily as I stared down at him.
“You look debauched.”
“For fuck’s sake, Byron,” he groaned as he patted his hair down. His hair wasn’t the problem. “Why do you always look so put together?”
I smiled at his surliness and grabbed his hands to stop him faffing. “I like that you look debauched. It makes me want to do it all over again.”
“You’re so fucking weird,” he huffed, but there was no real heat behind his words.
“I know.”
“Excuse me,” a gentle voice said from behind us. “Would you happen to know where the owner is?”
“She’s just in the back getting my—”
Wilder’s words froze on his lips as he stepped around me to talk to the newcomer. His face instantly paled and his hand squeezed mine in a death grip.
“Do I know you?” Wilder asked, his words a trembling whisper that affected me more than it probably should. I hated the way he sounded so fearful.
I turned to look at the person and found a well-dressed gentleman in a dark three-piece suit and a grey overcoat. He carried a walking cane in one hand and held a pocket watch in the other. He was pleasant looking, and there was something calming about his presence.
So why the fuck did Wilder look like he’d seen a ghost?
“I don’t believe so,” the stranger replied, but there was something uncomfortable in his tone. Something guarded.
He was lying.
“Who are you?” I asked, my words sharp as I stepped protectively in front of Wilder.
The stranger’s lavender eyes flicked between Wilder and me, assessing and wary. They were too bright and unusual to be human. “I’m just looking for the owner. I have a package to collect.”
Wilder’s hand gripped mine even harder, grinding my knuckles together. “He was there. The night my father auctioned me off. He was there.”
I was instantly on the alert, mind and body falling into readiness to attack.
“Wait,” the man said, his hands flying up to protect him. “It’s not like that. I—”
“Here we are,” Astrid said breezily as she swanned back into the shop.
The stranger used the distraction to fly from the shop, using speed only a vampire could possess.
“Fuck!” I yelled as I darted out of the store, knowing it would be futile but running out there, anyway. There was no one out there. Just the empty street staring back at me.
I stormed back into the shop, the door slamming open and the bell shrieking above me. “Who was he?”
“Who?” Astrid said as I strode towards her.
I was livid. Beyond fucking angry. That man had something to do with that fucking night, and I wanted to rip him into tiny pieces, chop him up and ask the wendigo to digest him. “The man who was just here!”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I didn’t see him clearly.”
I slammed my fist down on the counter, my stability fracturing with every second that passed. “He said he was collecting a parcel. I need to know—”
“Orson Aldworth.”
Wilder spoke so quietly, I almost missed the soft words. “Who?”
He had a crisp white business card in his hand which he held out to me. I took it, the paper rough and thick like it had come from the 19th century. Fucking vampires. So stuck in the damn past. It had his name printed in thick black letters and on the back, he’d written the words:
Trust me. I can explain.
Shit. He’d moved quickly, managed to write something and put it in Wilder’s hand before leaving. This was no ordinary vampire. To be that speedy, he was either as old as fucking dirt or a master vampire.
“What kind of name is Orson Aldworth?” Wilder asked, followed by a brittle laugh.
“An old one.” I returned to Wilder and cupped his jaw in my hands. His eyes were distant and his shoulders sagged. I didn’t like that one bit. “What do you remember about him?”
He gripped his bottom lip between his teeth. “Not much. I just remember seeing him behind the window. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences, baby. This seems fishy.”
“Fishy?” A small smile crept around the corner of his mouth, and I breathed a little easier.
“Yes. ‘Fishy’ is the perfect word here.”
“Byron, you’re fucking weird,” Astrid piped up from behind her little counter.
“So people keep telling me.” I took Wilder’s parcel from Astrid. “Thank you for this. I need to do a stock check, but I’ll send you a list soon.”
She scoffed. “You’ll be lucky if you get any of it after what you did to Wilder.”
I grinned. “I know you don’t really mean that, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Astrid flicked me her middle finger and then held out a small package wrapped in brown paper. “Oh, this was left for Wilder as well.”
I eyed it warily. “By whom?”
“That sexy guy who keeps popping in,” she replied with a shy smile. “He asked whether I knew you, obviously I didn’t say that I did, but he must have sensed something because after he left, I found this on my counter. He’s the only who could have left it.”
“Does the sexy guy have a name?” I didn’t like the sound of this. At all.
She giggled. “Oh, you know me. I’m terrible with names. It takes me a few years to cement them. It was Liam or Luther or Lawson or—”
“Lawler?” I hissed.
She snapped her fingers and grinned. “Yep. That’s it.”
“Stay away from him,” I snarled.
Her face dropped. “Why?”
“That’s my father,” Wilder said, his voice choked.
“Oh, shit,” Astrid gasped.
Oh, shit indeed.