Chapter Three
Jonas.
Axehole: You’re in Paris?
I roll my eyes at Axel’s text. It’s the second morning I’ve woken up to Raven playing her cello out on the balcony and this time, I made sure to grab my phone and record her so I can post it on my Instagram.
I mean, the scenery is perfect. Sun rising, the Eiffel tower is still lit, you can see the Sienne, but the main beauty is her.
She’s playing something she’s been working on for weeks now and it’s so damn heart wrenching but alluring.
I never thought of classical music as wondrous, but when she plays… I love it, because it’s her.
I keep thinking now is the perfect time to propose.
Here, now, in the city of love.
But Damon keeps saying it’s not. Not while Maverick is still fragile and indecisive. We have to play our cards right . ‘Be patient .’ Whatever that means.
Whether or not we actually need him is up in the air. We only know she loves him.
And that he’s gotta get his head out of his ass.
When she stops playing, I take a picture and this time, when I post it, I make everything else black and white and leave her in color. Caption: The Future Mrs. Jonas Anderson.
Yeah. I like that a lot.
She always stays outside for a moment after playing, looking over the sleepy city that’s not even close to waking up.
It’s freezing outside but not as cold as Massachusetts, there’s a soft flurry of snow that melts before it touches the ground and when I hear a knock on the door behind me, I know Damon ordered room service while I was entranced. But how could I not be?
My phone vibrates in my hand, and when I look down to see Axel is calling, I can feel my molars grinding together.
“Yeah?” I answer without pleasantries.
“What are you doing in Paris? What if she has an attack? What if she attacks?”
“Well, I’m mostly fucking your sister to answer your first question,” I reply crudely.
“And secondly, she’s doing great. We’ve been out and about just fine.
I told you; you don’t need to worry about her anymore.
She’s mine. I got her.” There’s a tap on my arm and when I look down, I see a mug of coffee.
I look up at Damon and he’s smiling. I grab the mug and take a sip. “I gotta go.”
Hanging up on Axel always feels great.
“She really is doing great isn’t she?” he asks, looking like a proud papa as Raven turns around in her chair and grins at us. “You played beautifully, little bird.”
Where there’s a part of me that is jealous at the way my girl blushes, looks down, lashes hitting her cheekbones and then back up at the man that watched over her for years, that emotion is overpowered by the way my own smile appears on my face, happy that she is happy.
Damon sets down his mug and tugs on his overcoat, goes to her, plants a kiss on her forehead and she lights up even more when he towers over her, cupping her face in his large hands.
Images of the way she came between us last night make me smirk because she looks so sweet and innocent with those big brown eyes I know make Damon’s heart flutter, but deep down, she’s an insatiable, sick little slut.
My sick little slut .
He helps her up and they come back inside, closing the double glass doors behind them, and she strides to me, the room feeling at least ten degrees warmer now. “Morning, baby.” I kiss her. “Did you sleep good?”
She blinks as if thinking over her answer, as though if she tells us she dreamt of Maverick again it will hurt my feelings.
It won’t. I’m actually surprised the man came with Damon but I know it tortured her to be near him as he barely glanced at her.
If only she knew he can barely keep his eyes off her anywhere else – school, the library, Inferno…
they’re both suffering without the other but he has to be the one to reach out.
Raven finally nods but I can’t help the sinking feeling that she’s perhaps lying to me to save face.
I hate that.
“Want to get dressed so we can wake Maverick and have some breakfast? Walk around and shop, maybe? I found this bookstore online that’s two blocks away. They have a little café…”
The smile on her face makes my knees buckle.
It’s so easy to make her happy. I hide my disgust at the Monroe family for thinking she’s a menace to their image, to society, and keeping her locked away.
I mean, she is, but she’s only a menace to a special secret society but not – it doesn’t matter.
I plant another kiss to her cheek and tap her hip twice. “Get ready, baby. I’ll go get Maverick”
As soon as she’s in the bathroom with the door closed Damon shakes his head. “He checked out last night.”
I scowl. “Did you at least do it the night I roofied him?”
Damon nods. “Yeah. He’s tagged. That’s how I know he’s currently flying over the Atlantic as we speak.”
“What a fucking wuss-puss.” We’re leaving tonight anyway he couldn’t have waited?
Then again, it’s not like he gave us a chance to speak to him properly.
That’s why him coming on this trip was pertinent.
We wanted to talk to him. All of us. As a family .
Because as fucked up as it is, as fucked up as we are, that’s exactly what we are .
Silver eyes flash to mine, a grim shadow creeps over his features. “I’m staying here tonight to be with my parents. I’ll be home Sunday night. ”
“So they’re… fixing things?”
He chuckles. “My parents should have never separated, Jonas. All these years apart, so many failed relationships between them, they were always each other’s end game.
What happened to Maddie was terrible, but it wasn’t what happened that tore them apart – it was the distance.
Trying to solve a murder from thousands of miles away, spending money to go back and forth, it takes a toll on you. Now they can be together again.”
“Can they, though? Doesn’t your father still have his entire career in the US?”
“He does, but if I know the man like I think I do, he’ll retire early. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do for my mother. He’s proven that more than once already.” He says somberly as the shower cuts off and I frown.
Damn. I really wanted to shower with her.
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get us home. Have you thought more about Kronos?”
Now the handsome fucker smirks at me. “Get her the dog but wait until I’m home. I want to see the look on her face when you present her with the old Doberman.” He says as the bathroom door opens and steam rolls out like low drifting fog.
“That’s fine. I need to get him transferred closer for pick up.”
I’m excited. I found an animal shelter in Jersey that caters to rescuing dogs and cats and having them trained as service animals but they got lucky with the one I chose for Raven.
Kronos is a ten-year-old service dog that belonged to a veteran that lost his battle with depression.
He’s been in a shelter for the last three months and as soon as I saw him, I started making plans to get Kronos.
When I had Syndicate matters to see to in New York, (which hasn’t been often lately but when I am called it’s been all-nighters) I’d stop by to hang out with him so he’d grow used to seeing me.
I just know he’s going to love Raven and I know Raven will love him back.
Plus, having him around to protect her when neither of us are home would make me feel a lot better – mostly because she’s been sleepwalking more frequently the last few weeks that we’ve been at Damon’s.
Because of it, we had to install deadbolts on the tops of doorways.
During the day, they’re unlocked, but nights are a completely different story.
Raven walks around, muttering, voice hoarse, or silently stammering at a wall.
It’s never scared me, when I wake up and find her, not even when she looks like a ghost trying to escape.
It’s just now we’ve been finding her sleeping in the oddest positions in the oddest places.
The only time she doesn’t wander off is when we’re both in bed beside her, and unfortunately, since I still have to show up for Syndicate matters and meetings, it’s not always.
Speaking of - my eyes roam from her little feet, up to the tattoo that starts on her ankle and goes up her leg, her knee, her ample thigh, still slick with water and I salivate, an absolute Pavlovian response to her.
Sure she’s wearing a towel now, but I know exactly what’s underneath – the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, complete with wide hips, the soft swell of her stomach, a narrow waist, and teardrop titties that aren’t overly large, but enough to fill my hands.
Made for me.
She stills at my perusal of her, a knowing look in those caramel eyes of hers, wet, curling rivulets of her hair two shades darker cling to her shoulders and I bite my lower lip.
“Drop the towel baby. Slowly.” I bite my lips in appreciation when she does, clasping her hands in front of her, the towel pooled lazily at her feet like a cloud.
It takes me three wide steps to get to her and when I do, I drop to my knees, a servant before his goddess and crawl to her.
I have licked and kissed every square inch of this woman’s body, from toes to crown, fucked her in every possible position, and had her suck me in every possible way and I simply just can’t get enough. She’s in my mind, my heart, my veins. I’m a fucking addict and she’s my drug .
Every breathy sigh, every whisper, giggle, and little motion of her hands, reminds me just how much I’m wrapped around her little finger.
One wish and I’ll do whatever possible to make it come true.
One command and I’m on it. In whatever way she needs me, I’m there.
As a friend, a lover, someone to clean up behind her as she eradicates the Syndicate one by one. I’m her to command and I don’t mind it.