Chapter 10 #5
Max gave her a look as if to say only sadistic dogs wouldn’t feed a hungry feline.
“He’s as expressive as you are.” Smiling, Drake took their empty plates to the kitchen and returned the end tables to their original position. “How does your knee feel? Your pain meds should have worn off. Do you need more? Or…I saw a bottle of Grand Marnier.”
“Actually, my knee only hurts when I move it now. I’m totally up for a glass of liqueur, please.”
After removing Max from her lap, Drake positioned her legs on a pillow on the coffee table. An ice pack went on her knee, then a warm quilt.
She shook her head. “Were you a medic in your last life?”
He laughed, warm and dark. “Non. I learned to fight when I was young and, later, took up mixed martial arts in college.” His smile was rueful. “Injuries from sparring happen often enough.”
After another trip to the kitchen, he brought back cognac glasses with a nice pouring of bronze liqueur. “Here you go, ma chérie.”
“Thank you.” After her hand’s heat on the glass warmed the Grand Marnier, she took a sip.
He’d picked Faj’s favorite—the Centenaire.
Lovely and sweet with smoky hints of orange at first, then a touch of fruit and also vanilla-y.
Was that a word? “Perfect. But I can’t have more than this glass.
Tomorrow I’m helping fill swag bags for the convention. ”
“Ah.” He smiled. “The convention couldn’t happen without volunteers. Your help is appreciated.” Leaning back, Drake put an arm around her shoulders and picked up his own glass. He took a sip, obviously enjoying the taste.
Max jumped back onto the couch and settled on her lap. She ran her hand down the soft fur. “He’s such a carefree guy. He made himself at home within a day of being here.”
Putting his glass on the end table, Drake reached over to stroke the cat, getting a happy purr in response. “His name suits him well. It is short for Maximillian or Maxwell or…?”
“Huh, I’m not sure. I named him for the police officer who found me breaking into a house in Seattle, and I was terrified he’d hand me over to children’s services who probably wouldn’t believe me, and I’d end up back in the foster home I ran away from. Instead, he brought me here to George.”
Whoa, what was she saying? She scowled at the glass of Grand Marnier. Okay, the stuff was strong, but she’d only had a few sips. Not nearly enough to explain why she’d blurt out stuff about her past.
Surely it wasn’t because Master Drake made her feel…cared for. Because there was a warm arm around her shoulders and fingers playing with her hair. Because all her barriers were down.
Unsettled, she looked up at him.
He was studying her again, hard face softened. “A bad situation for a child. Might I ask why you ran away?”
She sighed. In for a dime, in for a dollar—wasn’t that how the saying went? “The foster mother’s son with two of the other foster boys were…” Slowly, under his quiet gaze, she explained what had happened.
His mouth tightened, anger growing in his eyes. “What happened with the boys?”
“Uh, Chains cop, this happened years ago. You can’t go beat them up.”
“I can check on them and ensure they didn’t continue this behavior.” A corner of his mouth tipped up. “If they have, then I can beat them up.”
The euphoric rush deep in her belly was surely from the liqueur, not his words.
Drake was enjoying running his fingers through Ray’s curly hair and watching each silken lock spring back when released. Such beautiful colors, ranging from rich reddish-brown to golden red where bleached by the sun…along with the blue-green strands.
Now that he knew her better, the added colorful strands not only matched her eyes but also her vibrant personality. Her beauty was far more than skin deep.
“Anyway”—she waved her glass—“Max is named for the patrol officer who put so much work into saving me. He talked Faj into taking me in and talked my social worker into the ton of paperwork to allow the change. Afterward, he kept coming back to check on me. I still get an occasional card from him even though he moved all the way to Florida.”
Drake raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.” The officer really had gone above and beyond. “I hope he’s doing well.”
“So well.” Her sigh held happiness. “Lots of sun and sand…and he’s in a poly relationship with his cousin and a woman.”
Poly relationship. Cousin. Cop. And a friendship with George… “He doesn’t, perchance, live in Tampa, does he?”
Ray stared at him. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Max Drago—oui?” At her nod, he laughed. “We were teased about our names—Drago and Dragomir.”
“He…he wasn’t a member of Chains, was he?” Her eyes got wider. “Oh, oh, I bet he was!”
Drake didn’t out his members, so he changed the subject. “Max is short for Maximillian, if your cat would like to use the longer form at times.”
Her nod showed she wouldn’t push. “Longer names are useful when scolding.” She smiled at the feline she’d woken with her excitement. “Don’t you agree, Maximillian Felinus Lanigan?”
The cat gave a throaty mew in response.
Drake laughed, then kissed Ray’s temple. “Let us get you upstairs, washed up, and comfortable for bed.”
“It’s early yet.”
“You look tired, ma douce. Being in pain is tiring—and I fear you will be hurting by the time you finish preparing for bed.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You are definitely a Dom.”
Non, he was merely being reasonable. “This is what my ex had a problem with.”
“What, you wanting to take care of her?”
“If it didn’t involve sex, she didn’t want any hint of dominance.”
She pressed her hands over her mouth, but the snorting laugh came through clearly.
“And what do you find so funny?”
“She tried to put boundaries around your dominance. It’d be like someone telling George he could only craft wood in the morning hours. She was an idiot.”
Her understanding was like light breaking into a dark forest.
“Hmm.” Her eyes lit with laughter. “What would happen if I said no, I won’t go to bed?”
She really did enjoy poking the bear, didn’t she. “You mean, would I beat you until you agreed?”
“Uh-huh.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, not a trace of fear showing. Delightful.
“Most tempting, but I can do nothing without consent. Of course, being quite intelligent, you will see my…suggestions…are always correct.”
She had the cutest giggle. “More like I can see that what you don’t win through domination, you win through charm.”
“But of course.” Setting her glass to one side, he put Max on the floor, tossed the quilt and ice bag to one side, and picked her up.
“We’ll take the lazy way up.” Drake carried her to the small elevator near the stairs.
Reaching out, Ray pushed the button. “When I moved in, I thought Faj was crazy to have installed an elevator. Talk about a luxury. But he said he built the place planning to stay even when he was old and decrepit.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Drake rubbed his cheek against her hair. “He had a good life, even if shorter than he might have hoped. But he was happy with how his days came to an end—with a quiet death in his own home with his family around him.”
She rested her head against his shoulder and nodded.
Upstairs, Drake walked into the light-filled master bath and took the time to look around.
A white freestanding tub by a large window looked out over the shadowy evening.
The beautifully grained, light wood in the cabinets and vaulted ceiling along with swirly, blue-green marble in the glass-enclosed shower made the room feel part of the forest outside.
“Almost minimalist, but cozy.” Whoever had designed it had chosen marble the same shade as Ray’s eyes. “Now, shower or bath?”
“Shower. There’s a cane leaning against the wall in the closet. With it, I should be able to get around. My knee does feel better. Really.”
“All right.” There was a chair beside the marble-topped counter. He helped her into it and found the cane. Much as he’d like to help more, he wouldn’t. In many ways, he was still a stranger.
In one cabinet, he found clean towels and arranged them on a hook beside the shower. “What do you want to wear to bed?”
“Um.”
Her startled expression was a dead giveaway. She normally wore nothing.
And now, he was getting hard. Merde. “A robe instead?”
“Right, right. On a hook in the closet.”
“Very good.” He brought it in, checked she had everything close, including her phone, and gave her a stern look.
“I will be answering my emails in the bedroom. Take your time—but you will call me if you need help. If it sounds as if you fell, I will come in. I dislike breaking down doors, so please don’t lock it. ”
“Yes, Sir.” Her expression was that of a contented submissive. Unlike Justine, she liked being directed.
So very satisfying.
Settling into a chair in the bedroom, he pulled out his phone and grimaced at the long list of emails. Didn’t anyone observe weekends anymore? Then again, he usually put in a few weekend hours himself.
Today had been rare—and very enjoyable.
In the bathroom, the shower came on. Singing accompanied the sound of the water, and Drake smiled at the “We’re Not Gonna Take It” by Twisted Sister.
Someone liked singing to metal? Nice. Then he blinked as she not only switched genres but went off the track entirely as she sang, word perfect, the “You’ll Be Back,” from the musical Hamilton, belting out Da-da-da-dat with enthusiasm.
Intriguing. Sometimes she was quite subdued—maybe a lingering effect from her last relationship—and sometimes so filled with energy she sparkled.
Her bedroom didn’t say shy and retiring—and was nothing like George, who had preferred quiet and subtle in shades of gray and white.
This room had a dark hardwood floor, vaulted ceiling, and unique trim—and vivid colors.
The draperies and bedspread were a dark teal.
Oriental carpets added complexity. The color scheme went well with the dark wood trim and the graceful furniture and was brightened by numerous foliage plants and floor to ceiling windows.
He smiled slightly at the very romantic king-size, canopy bed. And noted it would provide quite effective anchor points.
Now…how could a Dom resist?
Not tonight, Jean-Pierre.
There was time.