Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Richard
Wariness crept into his hazel eyes. Even now, I felt him tense beside me. If I didn’t say or do something, Noam would start to panic.
Over the past few weeks he’d been slowly relaxing around me, engaging more and more in conversation. That wasn’t anywhere close to enough time to heal from what he’d been through, but it was a start.
And now you probably set him back with your damn reveal.
Honestly, I had no idea why I revealed myself to him when I hadn’t shown my scars to anyone before. But there was something about him I couldn’t name, captivating me from the word go, blowing right through the walls I’d erected around myself.
“Ask me anything, Noah.” Since when had I become an open book? But pain recognized pain, trauma recognized trauma. The only difference was I’d fought back. Noam had never been given that chance.
His gaze kept darting between my eyes and my chest. I knew the question on his mind. Anyone would wonder after seeing my rebirth, because that crash against the wall had devastating consequences on my body. I was certain either Malachi or Giovanni had carried me to my room, never revealing they were carrying a man moments away from death.
If I had been human, my chances of survival would’ve been zero. I’d heard my bones break and felt my head impacting the marble. But my only concern had been keeping Noam safe.
“The bird is real,” I said, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. He flinched, but I didn’t acknowledge it. If I had, he might’ve pulled away. “It sleeps in my chest, only rising when it senses danger.”
Like when I’d died on this very bed.
But if I had to lay myself bare for Noam to heal, I would face my past and my demons, no matter how deep I’d buried them. Though that was something I really didn’t want to do. The demons riding my back would give the boogeyman nightmares.
I saw his hand twitch, but he curled his fingers in.
“Go ahead.” Gently, I took his wrist, guiding his hand toward my chest. He’d already touched it in the most spectacular way. I could still feel the imprint of his touches along my skin.
Biting his bottom lip, Noam traced his finger over the wings, seeming lost as the pads ghosted over my skin, causing my cock to stir. Right when I dipped my head for a kiss, Noam gasped and yanked his hand away.
I’d felt it too. One of the wings had fluttered, reacting to his touch.
My brows furrowed. That had never happened before. I’d had countless lovers over my lifetime, but my phoenix had never reacted to anyone’s touch before. Ever.
Noam seemed both fascinated and scared, his fingers inching back toward my chest, unaware of what he’d just done.
I studied him closely, innocence radiating from him despite what he had suffered. He’d said the farmhouse door had just “popped” open for him, although I knew that was impossible.
The only reason the portal existed in the first place was because of me, because of the fact I found solace sitting under a moonlit sky, the warm, summer breeze embracing me.
I’d bought the plot of land, had “built” the house, just to appease my sanity.
And the door had opened for Noam?
I brushed my knuckles over his cheek. The way he looked up at me from under his thick lashes, his gaze timid but filled with determination—a fire desperate to burn—punched me right in the gut.
Somehow, he’d not only breached the castle—an impossibility in itself—but the portal had willing opened for him.
What did that mean? Noam was human. Of that, I had no doubt. So what was so special about him that my magic had allowed him passage?
His eyes widened slightly as I leaned in, brushing my lips over his. “What are you?” I whispered, even more fascinated by him.
“Noam,” he answered softly, his brows knitted together.
My lips curled into a smile. “A temptress. You here to steal my soul, chiton?”
“No.” His eyes rounded once again, as if afraid I would actually think that.
I kissed my way across his jaw, smiling when he suppressed a small moan. I wanted to be back inside of him, coaxing every sound of pleasure from his throat as he clawed at my back. I could honestly live inside of his body, drugging myself with his kisses as I drowned in his touch.
His mouth teased mine, kitten kisses meant to test, maybe even push slightly against his own boundaries. Like he wanted to break free from the fear holding him back from taking what he wanted.
If taking was what he wanted, he could have every piece of my unworthy soul.
When Noam pulled back, he appeared dazed. I chuckled, nipping his chin tenderly. “Lose a few brain cells?”
“More than a few,” he admitted, scooting even closer, as if we weren’t already pressed so close we should’ve merged into one.
His gaze lowered to my chest, curiosity clear in his hazel eyes. I didn’t move. If he wanted to explore my body, I wasn’t foolish enough to stop him.
“What’s that pendant around your neck?”
Instant mood killer. It was a subject I didn’t want to touch. But I’d told Noam to ask me anything.
Anything except that.
It was more like a weighted burden, choking me at times until my lungs burned for relief.
“Richard?” Noam blinked at me, his beautiful features pinched in wariness. I was sure he’d seen the faraway look in my eyes. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He was giving me a choice. My little kitten knew what it felt like to be rendered powerless, and he was leaving the decision up to me.
I swallowed roughly, telling myself to walk away from Noam, because those I cared about died.
But the thought of shutting him out of my life, of ripping away the solace he’d found in my arms… God help me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of becoming just one more person who’d let him down.
“It’s a reminder of what happens…” I cupped his cheek, unwilling to tell him it was a reminder of what happened when I lost control. Of the blood that soaked my hands.
I didn’t want Noam to fear me.
“When a temper is behind those weapons,” he finished for me, reminding me of the conversation we had the first day we’d met.
I waited for him to run from me, to recoil from my touch. He knew. There was a glint of awareness in his eyes. I was a killer, just another fucking monster in his life.
Instead, he pressed his trembling hand against my chest, his body quivering. I wanted to pull him close, to comfort him, but I waited, dread pooling in my gut.
“Am I safe with you, Richard?”
That wasn’t what I expected him to say. Caught off guard, I had to redirect my thoughts. Then I gave him the truth.
“No one could be any safer, chaton.”
Because I would drench my hands in the blood of anyone who dared to harm him.
He had defied logic by breaching the barrier of the castle, had caused my phoenix to stir under his touch.
But most importantly, Noam—a man who had suffered unbelievable abuse, who had lived in survival mode for so long—had given me his trust.
His body.
His acceptance.
I would do everything in my power to keep those precious gifts. To deserve what I knew he’d never given anyone else.
Noam was mine, every beautiful inch of him.
* * * *
The setting sun filtered through the open kitchen windows, giving off a lazy, golden glow of contentment. The gentle breeze carried the familiar scent of honeysuckle as I stood at the island in the middle of the room.
It was past dinnertime, but I’d been enjoying Noam’s company and hadn’t wanted to leave his warmth, his presence, his touch, but most of all, his nakedness.
After several I’m-going-to-wither-away-if-you-don’t-feed-me texts from both Kyson and Dane, I still hadn’t budged. Noam was lying naked in my bed, and I had priorities.
It wasn’t until I’d heard Noam’s stomach rumbling that I reluctantly pulled my ass out of bed and headed for the kitchen, Noam’s hand in mine.
I was going to have to prep meals ahead of time if I wanted to enjoy my quiet time with Noam. The way Kyson and Dane ate, the fridge would become packed with prepped meals.
Knowing them, a week’s worth of food would be gone in three days. I was far from complaining though.
Cooking had always brought me solace, anchoring me when my world had been falling apart. There were times when I was preparing a meal that I could still hear children’s laughter, dogs barking for scraps of food, and Matilda. Sweet Matilda, her commanding but motherly tone ringing through the castle kitchen, ordering the staff around.
But they weren’t just staff. The people surrounding her were family, and she’d treated me no less.
More than once in my lifetime my father had banished me to the kitchen. He’d thought it was a punishment, a way to belittle me. But he had no clue the joy being there had brought me.
Matilda had been the one to teach my young, rebellious self how to cook, her patience endless for a boy who couldn’t stop asking questions.
I could be myself around her.
I could love who I wanted.
I could relax, joke, and feel the love in every corner of the room.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes, hearing the laughter of the children running around. One or two always begged me to play with them, uncaring of my status.
In Matilda’s kitchen, we were all equal.
The dogs, always happy when I entered, whined for my attention until I sat on the floor and allowed them to smother me with licks and wet noses.
My heart ached at the memories, my hand drifting toward the pendant hanging around my neck. It had belonged to Matilda, and I couldn’t recall seeing her a day without it lying against her bosom.
She had been more of a mother to me than my own. Her husband had died a year before I’d begun to invade her kitchen, and she’d instantly adopted me as one of her own.
I’d been treated like a normal person, no punishments, no unattainable expectations. That was all I’d ever wanted. A simple life, surrounded by people who loved and cared about me.
That was where my father had made his mistake. If he had never sent me down there, I would never have known what a warm, caring family felt like. I would’ve never yearned for the simple things in life, rebelling every time he tried to conform me into the “perfect” king.
M y gaze slid to Noam, who sat at the table, working on his third helping of grapes.
Despite still having a long road of healing ahead of him, there was a glow about him now, a radiance that hadn’t been there before.
Sitting there, he seemed at peace, picking over the grapes instead of wondering if he was allowed to ask for them—afraid of wanting more than was offered to him.
A grape was halfway to his mouth when he stilled, side-eying me before quickly glancing away. I chuckled when he blushed, wondering what had caused the reaction.
Was he thinking about my lips on his body, worshiping every inch of soft skin? The kisses we shared, sometimes soft and sweet, other times frenzied and needy?
I definitely needed to stop thinking about it. My cock was getting hard as I stirred the spaghetti sauce and checked the tenderness of the pasta. I knew the moment Noam smelled the baking garlic bread. His nose twitched, took a deeper inhale, then his gaze strayed to the oven.
I could practically see his mouth watering through his innocent eyes.
“Would you like to help?” I asked, pulling his attention toward me. So maybe I wanted him to look at me, because I damn sure loved gazing at him.
“Me?” Noam’s voice slightly cracked, his brows rising a fraction.
“Yes, chaton, you.” I wanted to share my love of cooking with him, to experience the passion through his eyes.
He slowly rose to his feet, glancing around like someone would tackle him before he could reach me.
Not if they want their breathing privileges revoked.
As soon as he joined me, I placed Noam between myself and the marble counter. I missed my butcher-block countertop, but I’d demolished it the night Kyson had died and I resurrected him.
In the early morning hours, I’d destroyed it, hating myself for not being there for my friend when he’d needed me the most.
“What…” Noam slid his tongue over his bottom lip. The gesture was a sign of nervousness for him.
The gesture just fucking aroused me.
Placing the smoked sausage in front of us, I picked up the paring knife, placed it in his hand, then slid my hand over his to guide him.
“Richard?”
“Yes, kitten?” I glanced at him.
“I know how to cut sausage,” he said dryly, but his lips twitched.
My lips twisted to the side. “Care for a demonstration?”
“But I just said I knew how.” His confused expression was adorable. I kissed his cheek, unable to resist the temptation nestled against my chest.
Ignore how his ass fits perfectly against your groin.
“May I?” My brow arched. I would always give him choices.
“Okay,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Show me how to cut sausage.”
I smirked, positioning his hands for safety. His right one still held the knife, but I made sure I was the one controlling it.
My cuts were precise and lightning fast, scooping the pieces aside, grabbing the next one before my brain caught up. It was muscle memory, a lifetime in Matilda’s kitchen. If you couldn’t keep up, you got out of the way.
Call it pride, call it competitiveness, but I was never told, not once, to move aside.
“How are you doing that?” Noam’s voice mirrored his stunned expression.
I kissed the side of his neck. “Now you see why my fingers bear scars.”
I could’ve concealed the marks like I had the rest of them, but I wore the ones on my fingers like a badge of honor.
In Matilda’s honor.
Noam quickly snatched his own hand away.
“You think I would allow you to get cut?” I gave him a wounded expression, fighting a smile.
Noam glanced at my fingers. “Not on purpose. Your knife skills scare me.”
Then hopefully he never saw Giovanni in action. It was as if the vampire had been born with his daggers in his hands.
“No making out over food.” Kyson gave me a shit-eating grin as he and Dane walked in.
I felt Noam leaning into me at the comment.
“Oh my god .” Dane’s eyes rolled back as he deeply inhaled. “You haven’t made spaghetti in a minute. Bring. On. The. Carbs.”
“Is he always like that?” Noam said low enough for only me to hear.
“Guy has more food orgasms than anyone I’ve ever met,” I whispered back. “That’s probably why Satan hates my cooking.”
Noam’s cheeks puffed out, his lips pressed together, suppressing a laugh as he chortled.
My grin widened. Not for the comment but the unbidden laughter Noam could no longer hold back.
And in that very moment, I fell helplessly in love with him.