Chapter Sixteen #2
My eyes flared. “No matter how safe a client is, you don’t take sleeping pills on the job. I need to be a light sleeper. I need to wake up as fast as possible and be quick on my feet in overnight jobs. I know everything has been vetted, but…we’re at sea. No one is going to look for me.”
The waves licked at the side of the boat as the sun grew warm enough for me to stop needing the blanket. I realized she’d never removed her hand from mine as her thumb moved over my wrist. “I will.”
She kissed me in the galley after the crew was asleep.
She knew the dark spots where security cameras didn’t reach, led me into the shadowy corners after my client had drunk himself into a stupor and fallen soundly asleep.
She took charge, eliminating my need to think, to worry, and giving me a reason to be present.
She clasped a palm firmly over my mouth to cover my moans, keeping my job and reputation secure while providing me with some of my only escapes that month.
She knew I certainly wasn’t finishing with the boss.
But she was happy to tip the orgasm quota in my favor.
Erin made the month bearable. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch after we docked.
I spent the entire flight home in a burst of inspiration, and by the time I landed, I’d finished the novel.
A Night of Runes was dedicated to Taylor, Ivy, and Erin.
When it hit, it took the world by storm.
I was asked about my mysterious dedication in numerous interviews but gave the same canned response each time.
They were three women whose domino effect had led to my life as an author.
It was vague, but people seemed to like a mystery, and I wasn’t about to tell the general population that I’d saved up enough money from sex work to pay my bills, pad my bank account, and float me while I queried and became an author.
Many things had changed, but one truth remained.
I could not fall asleep with people touching me.
As the years went on, I did my best to go back to their place when I wanted to get laid so that I could sneak out and call a car to get home.
If I was seeing someone for an extended period of time, we’d eventually have the talk where I’d explain my issues with sleep and describe why I had to build a pillow fort around me so that their foot didn’t accidentally touch me in the night and send me into a panic attack.
Most partners were understanding, particularly when I dated women.
My wash, rinse, and repeat cycle of ending anything serious before the three-month mark continued.
September 14, age 26
Years later, I woke up in someone else’s arms.
A jolt of panic shot through me as a heavy, male arm weighed me down and a muscular body spooned me.
I’d fallen asleep with Silas in my bed.
I hated having people touch me.
I hated it even more when I felt like I’d done something I shouldn’t have and awoke to stare at the consequences.
I grimaced as I paged through old responses and excuses I’d used to get people out of my bed when they’d overstayed their welcome.
I’d wanted him last night, yes, but it wasn’t his arms I wanted to wake up in.
But as I stared at the arm, a frown pinched my brows and turned down my mouth.
The hand loosely holding me was as pale as snow.
It wasn’t Silas.
I ran my fingertips over the hand and exhaled at the cool skin of a demon.
Caliban had, in fact, held me through the night. My entire body relaxed, grateful beyond words that he’d stayed. He was real, and perfect, and beautiful. He hadn’t worn a shirt to bed, which made the morning display of ivory muscles a particularly pleasant feast for the eyes.
I had a thought, however fleeting.
Perhaps my touch aversion came from the distant remnants of my fae blood. Maybe I was destined to be unhappy in a human’s arms. Because with Caliban…
He was statue-still, eyes closed, breathing gently through his nose. His arm remained draped over me, ensuring that the first thing I smelled that morning would be ferns. His eyes opened slowly, the burning silver softening to a dim smolder as he smiled.
“When did you get here?” I asked. I couldn’t yet gauge my emotions. Was I nervous? Guilty? Proud? I didn’t know how to talk about this with Caliban.
“After the angel left your bed.”
Shit.
I wouldn’t have done it in the first place if I had thought it would be a betrayal. Yet, even still…
“Here, before we lose ourselves talking.” Caliban unfolded his hand to reveal Alessia’s bag of venom. “You have fourteen hours to go, and thirteen hours of venom, if used correctly.”
“I thought you said you’re not omniscient?” I asked. I heard the barest edges of shame color my dodgy question. Between Silas and my powder habit, we had much to discuss.
I grabbed the sticky note on my bedside table, scribbled with two words:
CALL EG!
I dipped the yellow corner of the paper into the bag and snorted a bit of the powder. The lightning bolt tingled the back of my brain, sending a shiver through my entire body as I pulled myself back into the current moment.
“I guess we have some catching up to do,” I admitted.
His face was unreadable as he said, “The stone gift is a dream come true. Make it last. The angel, on the other hand…you still have his essence leaking out of you.”
“I have an IUD,” I responded weakly.
His lips flattened into a line. “Do you truly think human birth control would stop anything from my side of the veil? I’ve never finished inside you, Love.
I wouldn’t put you at risk like that.” He read my expression as he responded with, “Don’t worry.
The Dark Lord Giveth, the Dark Lord Taketh Away. You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Plan B,” I muttered.
He pushed a kiss into my hair. “I love you, and nothing will change that,” he said. “Silas, however, is no longer on my good side. But, did it help? How did you sleep?”
It was jarring, hearing him talk like this. Unthreatened. So inhuman. Almost like I was still dreaming.
Caliban knew me better than anyone or anything in the realms. I understood he was asking if I felt like I’d reclaimed my religious trauma, which was one of the countless things I loved about him.
Apart from that, I took stock of my body.
There was the barest of aches between my legs from the man’s sheer size, which did not assuage my guilt.
“Wonderfully, I think. I’ve missed you.”
His calm remained as he flashed his top row of teeth.
“Did you do that?”
“I know you have trouble sleeping,” was all he said.
I blinked away the sleep, trying to focus on him between the art and the dark accent wall, to see through the morning light filtering through the wall of windows. He’d healed me more times than one. I supposed that meant he could do other things to my body, like help me sleep, and…
“Hey.” My eyes narrowed. “If you can put me to sleep and knit my wounds, can you also—”
“Yes.” He grinned wickedly, soothing any outlying fears I had about my encounter with the angel. “I could make you cum if I wanted. But I like to earn my orgasms.”
My vision remained in slits. “So goddamn unfair. You can stop my heart with a touch. You can heal me and vanish the dead bodies of criminal intruders and spirit me between realms, and what can I do?”
“Nothing,” he said easily. “Except claw your way to the top of lists, go from poverty to the rich and famous, rally the kingdoms, get the Grecians to expose themselves on television, talk an angel into showcasing his abilities for an audience of humans, get that same angel to forsake all oaths of chastity, win the god-hating Alessia Clovis to our cause, steal my heart, and with it, my kingdom…nothing. You can do nothing.”
I folded myself into him, tucking my head beneath his chin. “You make me feel good about myself.”
“I don’t want to make you feel good about yourself. I want to make you see yourself as you already are. And you, Love, are incredible.”
Insecurity nibbled at me. “I don’t feel like it.”
“No one should make you feel like you’re hard to love,” he said.
I sighed. As much as I wanted to stay in bed with him, his words had reminded me of the larger picture.
He released me as I sat up in bed, propping pillows behind me.
I tugged the blanket up to create a semblance of modesty.
“Okay. There’s an angel in my guest bedroom, and I’m running out of time to plan this showcase of the supernatural with Vexa.
The world’s about to change, Caliban. Spilling the tea is one thing, but tea stains.
There will be no undoing this once it’s out. ”
He looked at me seriously. “Are you considering calling things off?”
“No.” My eyes widened. “The wheels are already in motion. But there have to be things I’m not considering. What could go wrong?”
His brows bunched.
“I’m really asking,” I pushed.
“You’re only safe for a little while longer. I trust Medusa’s venom. But after the concert, your time is up, and Silas will no longer be under the mercy of the angels’ countdown.”
For the first time in my life, he looked genuinely concerned.
“The moment the powder runs out, I plan to be there. I won’t let Az or Silas leave you alone before then.
But even if we do everything right…it could all go wrong, Love.
And they aren’t things you can plan for.
Not even if you’re invisible. We have no way of knowing how the humans will react. It’s a good plan, but—”
“People can’t kill Silas or Azrames at the Vexa show. Poppy and Dorian will be untouchable after their stunt with the humans.”
He sucked in a lip. “Mortality isn’t the only consequence.”
I looked at him expectantly, desperately wishing I’d had coffee to clear my head before such a serious discussion. The stakes were too high for my bedroom. Twisted sheets, the stain of sex, the lamps, the art, and the windows of a very mortal life crushed in on the discussion.