Chapter 9
I wake to the smell of coffee. There are multiple blankets piled on top of me, the sun shining in bright through the window.
I’m toasty enough that I don’t really want to get out of the bed, but I want to be wherever Emmett is, so I wrap a blanket around my almost naked body and stand.
I can only assume Emmett’s torn sweatpants are somewhere in the mud outside, and the flannel I was wearing last night is in a muddy heap by the door.
At some point, Emmett put me in a soft cotton t-shirt that’s at least three sizes too big for me.
I get deja vu stepping into the kitchen. It’s hard to believe it was only two days ago that he pulled me out of my wrecked car and we stood right here, talking about our future.
I know he knows I’m here. His senses are much better than a human’s now, and I know he heard me coming.
“You okay?” he asks, and coming from anyone else, the question might seem casual. But his tone is hesitant, coated in worry.
I guess I can’t blame him for being nervous about the answer. The spot where he bit me last night throbs, and there’s definitely some soreness in my muscles and between my legs.
But I don’t mind.
“I’m good,” I tell him, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Last night was… intense. But I enjoyed it.”
He finally turns to face me. “Did you?”
I can feel my eyes go wide. “Are you serious? Of course, I did.”
He sighs, his hands hanging in fists at his sides. “I didn’t… scare you?”
Yes, I want to say, but I know he won’t take it the way I mean it. Yes, he scared me. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy myself or that I wouldn’t do it again or that I didn’t want it.
“No. You don’t scare me when you’re, you know, like that. It’s different, certainly, but not scary.”
He doesn’t say anything, just turns to pour us both a cup of coffee. But when he turns back, he doesn’t bring them to the table. He just stands there with a mug in each hand, two identical, plain maroon mugs that look like they were purchased from a dollar store.
When he does finally speak, he sounds more confident than he did before. “The roads are traversable today. So, we can get you to your car and you can head back to New York.”
I blink at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Your car. You’re going to need it to get back to the city. I doubt there’s anything wrong with it. You didn’t hit the guardrail that hard.”
“You want me to go back to New York?”
He sighs and sets the mugs down on the counter, nowhere near the table where I’m sitting. “I want you to be safe and whole and… not marked.” He lifts his chin in the direction of my shoulder, and I don’t have to look to know that he can see the angry red bite there.
“I am safe and whole. And I don’t mind being marked. It was good. I liked it.”
He starts to shake his head, and I stand, shoving off the blanket.
“Emmett, for fuck’s sake. You don’t want me to divorce you but you don’t want me to stay. You fuck me but then you push me away. Just tell me what you fucking want!”
“I want you!” he shouts, his eyes glowing.
As soon as he realizes he might be about to lose control, he steps back, but I don’t move. He’s not going to hurt me. He’s made that much clear. It doesn’t matter how mad he gets, whether or not he shifts, I know I’m safe here.
“And I want you,” I tell him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to go back to the city without you. If staying here is what makes you feel secure about what you’re going through, then here is where we’ll stay. Now bring me my damn coffee, you brute.”
I plunk back down on the kitchen bench, the wood cold against my now bare ass.
We stare at each other for a long time. A standoff.
Finally, he picks up our mugs and brings them to the table. And before he takes his seat, he leans down and kisses me, long and slow.
“I’m glad you’re staying,” he says before settling on his side of the table.
“Well, I love you, you asshole.”
He grins. “I love you too, wife.”