Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Eleanor
What do you see when you look in the mirror?
O pening the bedside drawers, I stare at my options before selecting my trusty purple toy and slide it underneath my pillow. Damn, that bedding is soft. Hunter doesn’t skimp on things; he favors understated luxury. I run my hand along the bedding, already picturing being naked and cocooned in the silky material.
My stomach rumbles in warning, pulling me from my fantasy and communicating I need to eat. What I would give to have a body that wasn’t ruled by basic instincts like food, water, and sleep. The things I could achieve if I didn’t require sleep… They should have already developed a cure, but studies show hallucinations can happen after just thirty-six hours without it. I have enough monsters without adding make-believe ones.
Buttoning the shirt so I’m not flashing my cleavage, I exit the bedroom and get ready for battle with the panty-stealing monster... and Charlie too. Hunter moves around the kitchen with a slight bob of his head to the quiet rock music still playing in the background. Charlie lies on the couch, my panties between his front paws and his tongue flopped out. What is with that tongue? It’s twice the size it should be. Does it roll up into his mouth?
“You hungry?” Hunter asks, glancing over his shoulder. I don’t miss the slow perusal of my bare legs or the flash of possessiveness in his gaze at seeing me in his shirt. I don’t understand it. If I bought my clothes at a thrift store, the people donating don’t sit outside having fantasies about who would buy and wear their clothing. Then again, this wasn’t donated, and I didn’t ask permission.
I shrug as I slide my ass onto the bar stool, keeping one eye on the dog who is baring his teeth at me. Again. “Is that normal?” I wonder aloud.
Hunter follows my gaze. “He likes you.”
“But he’s showing his teeth.”
“No, Eleanor. He’s grinning at you.”
“I still maintain that dogs don’t smile.”
“This one does.”
I sigh as I give Hunter my full attention. The smell of baking dough, tomato sauce, and meaty goodness permeates the air.
“What are you making?”
“Pizza and salad, followed by peach pie. Is that okay?”
My stomach clenches. I guess I am hungry. “Sounds amazing.”
He smiles like I offered him a million bucks. He flits around the apartment, preparing the salad, setting the table, disappearing into his bedroom for a few minutes, and feeding Charlie his kibble. The beast leaps off the couch to investigate what goodies are in his bowl, leaving his stolen prize behind. I eyeball my panties, debating on making a break for it.
“I wouldn’t,” Hunter advises, realizing my intent.
“He’s busy eating.”
“He’s taunting you with his prize. He’s quick. You won’t win this fight.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, glancing between the thief and the couch before launching myself off the stool. I make it three steps before Charlie barrels past me, making me lose my footing and topple backward. Warm arms catch me, and Hunter’s amused face fills my vision. His masculine scent is all around me, and it’s making me dizzy.
He winks, a smirk softening his face. “I did warn you.”
“Your dog has issues.”
He sets me upright as a timer pings from the oven. Saved by the bell. I huff at the dog who is coveting his prize and decide they are a lost cause. I need to order clothing anyway, but I should double the panty order to account for missing ones claimed by the males in this house.
Hunter slides out two pizzas and slices them each into eight pieces. He adds arugula to one, fills two glasses with sparkling water, and sets a large wooden salad bowl between us.
I appreciate the fact he didn’t get alcohol. I don’t normally drink, but if I do, I’m alone. I don’t enjoy the loss of control and inhibitions. And I definitely don’t allow it in front of anyone I don’t deem trustworthy.
He raises a brow. “You want a different drink? Soda, water, orange juice?”
My fingers wrap around the glass, and I slide it toward me. “This is fine.”
He pushes a large plate toward me before taking a seat next to me.
“Pepperoni,” he says, pointing to one pizza. “And parma ham with arugula. There’s balsamic vinegar, which goes amazing with the ham.”
I take a slice of each, some salad, and pour a small amount of vinegar on the side. I’m not sure I’ll like it, but I am willing to give it a try.
The first bite explodes across my tongue, and a groan rumbles through my chest as my eyes flutter closed. The pizza is delicious. It’s not the ordinary store-bought crap. This is freaking awesome.
“The pizza is homemade in town. The Italian restaurant makes a small amount for the store each day. I was lucky to grab it before anyone else.”
My eyes flash as I eye our dinner. That makes sense. “It’s amazing.”
Before I know it, I’ve devoured my two slices and am reaching for more. I have an issue with my body understanding when I need sustenance. Once I’m actually starving, I feel it, but before that, I tend to eat according to social norms. Wake up equals breakfast, because that’s what everyone else does, and it makes sense my body would need food after lying comatose for multiple hours. Lunch tends to be the most irregular; I’m often too engrossed in my work to remember to eat, and I wouldn’t want to disrupt my focus anyway. Then there’s dinner. During the winter months, the darkening of the sky is a great indicator of requiring more food. However, in the summer, I set a timer to remind me to fuel up. Normally, I would call my favorite restaurant and have food delivered. I can cook, but my time is precious and is needed for jobs. If I’m not doing a paid task, I am following Jonathan’s dirty trail around the world and continuing to close the net around him.
“Leave room for the peach pie. Cheryl, William’s wife, made it.”
“Your boss?”
“Yes, you met him.”
I know what his boss looks like. I did a little research on Hunter King when we first met, and he tried to coax me into his bed. “He seems nice.”
Hunter chuckles as a warm furry head nudges my calf, making me stiffen. Charlie’s fur is like silk, but that doesn’t mean I want it anywhere near me. “What do you want?”
“He’s seeking a treat.”
“Can dogs eat pizza?”
Hunter laughs. “No.” He slides a sealed jar in my direction. “You can give him one of these, and he should settle.” I twist the lid to find some curled sticks that smell minty. “Tell him to sit. He doesn’t get rewarded for looking cute.”
“He’s a thief. He shouldn’t get rewarded at all.”
Hunter sighs. “I’ll buy you some new panties, but those are a lost cause. Do you really want them back with fang holes in the lace?”
“It’s the principal of the matter.”
“He was trying to engage. He doesn’t always get the social norms since he’s a dog, and our life is too complex for him to understand.”
That, I can relate to. “He’s trying to figure out how to get to know me?”
“Yes, and his stubbornness is both a blessing and a curse. He will pester you until you give him attention, but he is also the most loving and loyal dog I’ve ever known. Tell me if you’ve ever met a dog that smiles and is so desperate for your attention he steals your underwear.”
I sigh as I look into Charlie’s grass green eyes. “The only dogs I’ve ever known have been trained to hunt, maim, and kill.”
Silence stretches between us as I realize I said too much. I rush to tug my hair over my ear. Hunter stays frozen for a moment, then his hand inches toward me, and he lifts my hair away, revealing the old injury. His fingers ghost over the indentations, sending a shiver all the way to my toes.
“A dog did this?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I grab one of the minty sticks and shake my head, dislodging Hunter from my ear and covering the injury once more. “Sit, Charlie.”
Charlie’s eyes go wide in anticipation, and he drops his ass on the floor immediately. I hold my breath as I offer him the treat, half expecting him to take my hand along with it. He leans forward and gently clamps his teeth around his prize before tugging it out of my hand and running to the couch where he covets both my panties and the chew stick like he’s the richest dog on the planet. I squeeze my eyes closed. I wish life was that simple.
“Ellie?” Hunter prompts again.
“No, Hunter, I don’t. Talking about the past doesn’t change the future. I’m not there anymore. I’m not in danger. I don’t need saving.”
“You put yourself in the firing line by pursuing Jonathan.”
“Because even though he was in my past, he is still affecting… no. He’s stealing the future of bright young women across the globe. He needs to be stopped.”
“I see.”
“Which is why me being here is dangerous. You don’t need to be drawn into this. I have places I can go.” I try again to shake Hunter loose, even knowing my chances are slim to none.
“You promised Honor and Fox you would stay with me, at least while we shake Christopher and ensure he’s lost interest in you.”
A long, hard sigh escapes me. This is why I don’t have friends. Friends can manipulate you. They can guilt you into doing things against your better judgment. They can alter your course, change your future, and disrupt your plans, even if those plans only extend to destroying your enemy at the cost of destroying yourself at the same time. Having friends means having responsibilities for more than your own life. I have accepted the reality that annihilating Jonathan will likely mean having to blow up my own life. I’m okay with that. What I am not okay with, is it costing any more innocent lives.
“Hey, whatever is going on in that magnificent brain of yours, share it with me. A problem shared is a problem halved.”
I snort. “That makes zero sense. Telling you my problems doesn’t halve the reality. If I tell you, it won’t result in him destroying half as many lives.”
“No, but we can work it through together. I’m betting your current plan is to gather as much evidence as you can and deposit it in front of a trusted judge before you launch an attack to murder Jonathan, removing the head of the beast and letting the legal system clean up the guts.”
The way he’s dissected my life and made accurate deductions in such a short space of time is a little concerning, but not altogether surprising. “What’s wrong with that plan?”
“That plan has you sacrificing yourself written all over it.”
I meet his gaze head on, refusing to stand down. Refusing to finch. “Someone has to stop him.”
“Agreed, but taking down Jonathan and you continuing to breathe don’t need to be mutually exclusive.”
I’m a little impressed he used that term correctly. Too many people don’t understand it. “I’ve made peace with that reality.”
“Tough shit, Eleanor. You have me at your side now.”
“Until you realize the horror of the world I’m going to have to dive back into, you will never understand. If I try to explode it from the outside, I will barely put a dent in it. I have to get to the stone cold heart of the demon in order to destroy him. There’s no other way.”
“There is always another way.”
I squeeze my fist around my fork. “Why do you care?” I whisper.
“I once ignored the warning signs, and someone I love paid the cost.”
“Love? Yes, I understand. You barely know me.” The problem with love is it makes you make illogical choices. It governs your decisions and unfocuses the mind. It gets people killed.
“I know you are someone who, if a friend calls and asks you to bring a shovel and a car, you speed along the highway, no questions asked other than how deep and how wide do they need the hole.”
My lips twitch. I have four people whose call I would take. Gail, Uncle Steven, Honor, and Fox. “You aren’t on that list.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I’m aware, but we have a mutual friend who is on both of our lists, and he asked me to take care of you. To help and protect you.”
“I’m not going to stop.”
He sucks his teeth, not looking at me. “I understand, and I would never ask you to. Vengeance is in your soul, but I have to warn you, it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The emptiness afterwards is a deep, dark void. You need to have a plan for what comes next, or you will be lost. It’s been your mission, your purpose, a part of your world for so long, you’re going to be lost once it’s gone.”
I’m not planning on surviving, so it’s not an issue. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I settle on. I know I don’t have him fooled, not even in the slightest, but he lets it go.
Hunter leans over the counter, staring at me out of the corner of his eye. “I have something to tell you, and I don’t want you to freak out.”
I place my fork down on my plate and spin on the bar stool to face him. “What did you do?”
His lips twitch. Oh no. “To be safe, you need to be part of the town. You need protection, a closed community of folks who look out for you.”
“I don’t, actually. This is something you insisted on and blackmailed me into by getting our mutual friends involved.”
“Right.” He doesn’t look the slightest bit regretful. “The easiest way to explain your presence here was to tell William you are with me.”
“I am with you.”
“No. With me, with me.”
I blink. “I’m not following.”
Hunter runs a hand through his hair, then moves his hand between us. “Together.”
Oh... ohhhh. For fucks sake. “No.”
“Hear me out.”
“No.”
“To stay here, you need to be family. I made you my girlfriend to get him off my back. If you were a friend hiding out, he would dig harder for the reasons why. Being romantically involved with me means he won’t go looking for reasons as to why you are first the woman I’ve brought back to my home.”
His face is relaxed, free of any deception. First woman? That doesn’t make sense. I empty my glass of the last of the water, letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue as I put together the competing evidence of his words with the furniture. I slide off the stool, snorting when Hunter eyes my bare legs. I grab his hand, tug him off his seat, and head down the hallway.
“This is going somewhere fast,” he mumbles.
I throw open his bedroom door with a chuckle as I lead him to his massive bed. Reversing our positions, I shove him down on the mattress. He flops down with a grin, but it’s warring with a frown. He’s not stupid; he doesn’t understand where this is going, but he’s too intrigued to fight me.
“Look up,” I command. He does, and our gazes meet in the mirror. “Now tell me I’m the first woman you have brought home.”
His lips twitch, then he lunges forward, grabs my thighs, and drags me onto his lap. My hands fall onto his chest, and the panic I expect to feel at the unexpected contact is drowned out by the heat. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
He flips us and has me on my back before the words have left my mouth. The air whooshes out of my lungs, but he stands and stares down at me with a heated look that is in danger of making me throw caution to the wind. I can’t. Not with him. Ever. It’s self-preservation. He would wreck my body, then my heart.
“Look up,” he demands, feeding my words back to me. He leans his shoulder against the bottom post and folds his arms.
My gaze is pulled to the mirror. My dark hair fans out across the navy sheets, and being manhandled by Hunter has my cheeks flushed. He is strong but purposeful with it, conscious of this presence around me.
“Now imagine you are alone. Your hands graze the outside of your thighs, caressing the hem of my shirt as you follow the dip between your legs. Your heart beats faster. Your skin heats as you unbutton it slowly, revealing your naked breasts.”
My heart trips over itself as the image he’s painting plays out in my mind. My eyes fall on him, desperate to look away from my blown gaze. He raises a brow in challenge. “Eyes on the mirror, Eleanor.”
I swallow as my fingers twitch to do exactly what he’s describing. I drag my gaze back to the mirror. Outwardly, there’s not any indication of my heightened state. I long since learned to hide pleasure. It’s not something I’ve been able to break; only when I’m alone can I let myself feel excitement and pleasure in the act of sex. It’s why I’m seeing Gail. I know, deep down, it’s not necessarily my partner’s fault. It’s also why I’ve avoided Hunter like he’s carrying the plague; there’s a barely restrained wildness in his gaze, desperate to sweep me under. I cannot fall. There is no room in my world for a partner. Especially him.
“Concentrate on my voice, Eleanor. Wherever you went, come back to me.” Dangerous. My eyes flutter closed. “Candlelight flickers around the room, glints off the piercings as my shirt falls open.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth. Damn. He noticed those? When?
“You tease yourself, tugging at the metal until it causes your core to clench. You’re so wet, your body begs to be stretched and filled. Your hand drifts down and skims the outside of your lace panties, feeling your heat and how your clit has begun to swell and throb.”
My insides tighten. Oh. My. God. No. I cannot get turned on from his words alone.
“Open your eyes, Eleanor. Look at yourself.”
My eyes flick open, and I stare at the woman in the mirror. My lips are parted, legs open slightly, and my hand is resting under the shirt on my stomach. He’s not dangerous. He’s lethal.
“Now, tell me you don’t find it sexy to stare at yourself getting off.”
My fist clenches under the shirt. He’s right. I didn’t see it before, but I can one hundred percent understand the appeal now.
“You are the only woman to be invited into my personal space. The only woman to have eaten a meal in my kitchen. The only one to have ever laid on my bed. I don’t lie, and I don’t exaggerate.”
He shoves off the post and unfolds his arms. He steps towards me, and I freeze like a deer caught in headlights. Don’t kiss me. Please, don’t kiss me.
His hands come down on either side of my head, and he smirks like he can hear my thoughts. I’m not trapped physically, but I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at like this. Like he wants to covet me, treat me like I’m fragile, but at the same time, devour me until all I can think of is more. Harder. Longer. Faster.
He drags in a breath and licks his lips, his eyes molten in the low light. “It’s driving me fucking wild not knowing what they look like. Hoops? Bars? Color? If you had any mercy, you would put me out of my misery so when I’m fisting my cock tonight and staring up at the mirror, reminding myself of what you look like splayed out on my bed, I can get as close to the facts as possible.”
I suck in a breath, my heart racing so hard I swear he can hear it. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know where else I’m pierced—he might lose his mind. “And the tattoo wrapped around your thigh disappearing under my shirt. What is it? Where does it end? I’m going to think about running my tongue over every curve of ink as I wet my palm and stroke myself, slow but hard, exactly how I will fuck you.”
This. Man. His dirty talk is going to set me on fire.
“Stop,” I whisper, my resolve dissolving under the heat of his gaze. I can’t be reduced to my baser instincts. Not with him. Panic thrums through my veins, warring with my arousal. I am always in control, and he’s shattering it with promises of soul-searing pleasure.
His eyes skim over my face, taking in everything I can’t put into words. I feel naked and exposed in a way I’ve never been before.
“Stop what? Telling you how fucking gorgeous you are? How I can’t stop fantasizing what you would look like falling apart on my bed? How I would watch everything you do to yourself, so I can bring you over the edge again and again?”
“Yes. All of that.”
His lips twitch as he leans down, his mouth at my ear. “What do you sound like when you come, Eleanor? Are you quiet? Do you cry out the name of the man giving you pleasure, or do you roar like a lioness?”
“Definitely not the middle one.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Fuck.
He freezes, pulling back to capture my gaze with his. “Never?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“Because you are quiet or?” He leaves it hanging there. Expectant. Hopeful.
“Because I don’t come with another person.”
He tilts his head, his brows drawing together as his eyes brighten. “But you can alone?”
I snort. “Clearly.”
“Is it because you feel vulnerable?”
“Gail claims it’s a factor, yes. But I’m not here for an impromptu therapy session. I have her for that.”
“What’s the other factor?”
My hands hit his chest. “Let me up.”
“Someday, you are going to have to let someone in, Eleanor. Someday, you are going to have to stop running from your nightmares.”
“Someday is not today,” I snarl.
He sighs and rises to his feet, shaking his head. “You aren’t fooling me with the cyborg armor. You might have everyone else believing you are an emotionless, unmoved cynic, but not me.”
I jerk to my feet and maintain eye contact. Most people freak out if you stare at them, backing down after a moment. He steadily meets my gaze, unhurried to end our encounter. He is clearly not most people.
“I don’t claim to be any of those things, but if you are wishing for a damsel to save, you won’t find her here. If you want a woman to swoon at your mere presence and weep with joy when you offer her a compliment, I am not her.”
He narrows his gaze as I back toward the doors joining our bedrooms.
“I’m under no illusions you need saving, Eleanor, but letting someone in isn’t a sign of weakness. Two people can become greater than the sum of their parts.”
“I’m aware of the logistics of synergy, but I don’t agree.”
His gaze drops to the valley between my breasts, goosebumps breaking out across my skin. “Do the piercings heighten your pleasure?”
My hand finds the handle of the door, and I push it down. “They do.”
“But alone, sitting in their little sterile packets, they don’t bring anyone pleasure. So putting two things together is greater than what they were alone.”
I frown. “Are you likening a relationship with you to having your nipples pierced?”
He rubs a hand down his face. “No. That makes it sound painful.”
“Then I’m lost in your complicated analogy.”
“You can make yourself come in under five minutes with the same vibrator, in exactly the same way. The feeling, the strength, the rush—it’s expected and predictable. Rinse and repeat.”
“Nothing’s wrong with predictable pleasure.”
“But what if someone else made you orgasm? What if they did something unexpected to make you lose control, taking your expectations and laying waste to them in the wake of an orgasm that makes you see stars?”
“Orgasms don’t make people see stars.”
He points at me. “And that there, is a crime. Orgasms should make you see stars every. Fucking. Time.”
“I’m good with my predictability.”
“We’ll see, Eleanor. I don’t scare easily, and I don’t give up on someone worth it.”
The words are on the tip of my tongue. I am not worth it. The pain. The nightmares. The scars. They will scare him off eventually. He might begin with the best of intentions until he peels back the layer of confidence I wear like a shroud. Underneath, I’m still the girl running through the woods with searing pain blazing her hip as she leaves her heart in tatters next to her mother’s bloody body. Men don’t want that. Nobody wants that.
He blows out a breath. “It’s okay. Run if you need to. You can’t hide forever.”
I know he doesn’t mean from this home. He’s talking about the feelings he’s trying to stir between us. I don’t have room for them. I can’t, or I’ll waver in my goal. Caring for someone with the path I’m on will get them killed. I need to do something to refocus his attention from picking apart my psyche.
A slow wicked smile tugs at my lips, and his eyes widen as I undo the two buttons shielding my breasts, running my fingers down the center of the shirt.
“Eleanor,” he chokes.
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, torn between teasing him with a verbal description of what he’s missing and showing him. I’m not good with dirty talk, so I select option two, and widen the shirt opening. His jaw drops as he takes in the piercings—horizontal bars with rose-gold hoops, and a small diamond dangling from the bottoms. He blinks. For once, I’ve completely stumped him. My smirk widens as power I’ve never felt before fills me. That’s oddly satisfying.
“You have enough material now for your solo exploits?” I taunt.
He reluctantly pulls his gaze from my breasts, and when his eyes meet mine, the pupils are blown, the black almost swallowing his gray irises.
I release the shirt, letting it fall over my chest. He clenches his hands at his sides, rocking forward on his toes. “I would give anything to feel that metal with my tongue, Eleanor. To tug them between my teeth, finding the perfect pressure to make you walk the line between pain and pleasure. To hear you whimper in surrender and need. Anything.”
I swallow. Most men are fascinated with them but have zero clue how to use them to create any pleasure. They either flick the metal like it’s going to make me orgasm, or they pull too hard. Both do nothing. Then there’s the camp that, while curious, are more terrified of the piercings, like I’m some S&M fantasy they can’t fulfill.
Then there is Hunter. He wants to know how to work them. He wants to make me weak at the knees.
“I should go to bed,” I whisper.
He takes a step toward me. “You should.”
“My own bed,” I clarify, taking a step back.
His lips twitch as he takes another step closer. “That works too.”
“Alone.”
“I thought we covered that alone gets the job done but doesn’t make you see stars. Don’t you want to see stars, Eleanor? They’re breathtaking.”
“I’m good.”
I spin on my heel and make a mad dash through the closet, the sound of his laughter chasing me. I close the door and breathe a frustrated sigh of relief. This is night one. One, and he’s already broken down my walls far more than anyone else. I’ll have to shore up my defenses each and every night and keep myself sated, so I am not tempted by the promise of oblivion in his eyes. Glancing at my bedside drawer, I debate if I’m going to need something stronger than I’ve selected for tonight. I don’t doubt it. I gulp, leaning against the only defense I have against the man.
Hunter King would wreck me.