Nine - Redric
As Evangeline walked in front of me, my eyes dipped to her ass and my hands fisted at my sides.
Dammit.
I fucking wanted her, my cock jerking beneath my robes with each sway of her hips. The cry of pleasure I’d wrung from her lips repeated in my ears, making them hot. The sexual frustration that had built up over more than two decades was now mixing with the hatred I had for her, two explosive emotions with blurred lines.
Forcing my hands to relax, I jerked my eyes up from her ass. I took six steps before they dipped again. My pulse strong in my chest, I wetted my lips as I thought about all the things I hadn’t been able to do because of her curse.
“Use me…”
“Don’t ask…”
“Just take…”
“Punish me…”
Swearing under my breath, I yanked my gaze back up as she opened the door to a restaurant. Soft lighting cast down on glass tables and black-cushioned chairs. Red-and-black abstract paintings hung on cream walls. The patrons were all dressed in high fashion garb.
A man in a chequered white tunic and black trousers walked towards us with a smile and two menus in his hands. “Do you have a reservation?” he asked.
“Yes. Under Morrison. We’re here meeting someone.”
He nodded. “She is already here. I shall take you to her. Follow me.”
Turning, Evangeline smiled at me. My eyes narrowed instinctively. When her gaze turned dry, I forced myself to relax, to remember the fullness of her breast in my mouth rather than my hands around her neck.
I could almost feel her nipple hardening beneath my tongue, and I pressed it against the back of my teeth as I fought the urge to grab her and continue where we’d left off. Her cry reverberated in my skull again, and her eyes heated before she turned to follow the front-of-staff.
Taking a second to collect myself, I then headed after them. If I ruined her cover, I would be jostling with way too many people for the right to kill her, and that pleasure was solely mine.
Stopping at a table seating a single woman and two chairs, the man placed the menus down on the table, then gestured for us to sit. “I’ll be back to take your drinks in a few minutes.”
I nodded at him as he left, then settled into the one remaining chair, Evangeline having already sat.
“You’re not the Morrisons,” the woman said, picking up her purse as she stood. Her blonde hair curled around a high-collar dark-blue blouse that matched the colour of her eye shadow. Red lipstick painted her tight mouth, and Evangeline reached over to grab her hand, keeping her here.
“No,” she said sweetly. “We’re not. But we heard you have two spots opening up at your retreat tomorrow.”
“I don’t.”
Evangeline smiled. “I assure you, you do. And my husband and I really want to fill them. Don’t we, dear?”
She looked at me, and I nodded.
“And what couple is no longer coming?” she asked, her eyes on Evangeline.
“The Morrisons.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The only way they wouldn’t need couples therapy is if they divorced.”
She shrugged one shoulder.
“Or if they d–” The Dame stopped, her eyes widening slightly as she finally caught on.
Evangeline’s smile stretched smoothly. “Please take a seat. My husband is not a patient man, and it took me a lot of sucking on his dick–”
The traitor under my robes jerked to attention.
“– to get him to agree to come to see you, and I really don’t want to have done all that for nothing.”
“Pleasuring your husband isn’t a chore, Mrs…?”
“Dahy. Elana Dahy. And it is when he refuses to go down on you.”
The Dame’s eyes shifted to me, and I tensed under her silent question. Gritting my teeth, I glared at Evangeline. “She smells.”
“Mr Dahy! Respect in a marriage is the foundation of a happy life.” Sitting down, she pinned the two of us with a look. “I will tell you now that I do not take on clients who do not put in the work. So if you come to this retreat, you will do every activity with the utmost enthusiasm, is that clear?”
“Yes,” Evangeline said quickly. “I want us to work.”
“Why?” Her gaze settled on my nemesis.
“What?”
“Why do you want your marriage to work? What does it mean to you? And don’t give me some generic bullshit that sounds good.”
“You’re very...flavourful for a therapist,” I said.
“With my clientele, you have to be, as I am sure you can appreciate.”
I smiled tightly, not sure if I was supposed to know that or not. I’d never acted before in my life, and my pulse was spiking with adrenaline and arousal, making it hard to think.
“Because I’m tired of being alone,” Evangeline finally said, a masterful tilt to her voice that almost made me believe her. But I knew how well she can act.
“And I don’t mean I just want someone to be there when I get off work. I want a friend again. I don’t’ really have any, so when he won me in a card game, even though he cheated –” She snorted the last bit, slapping my honour right across its face.
“I didn’t cheat,” I growled.
“Of course you did. I never lose.”
“Only cheaters never lose.”
“That’s not true. I have seen some really shit cheaters.”
“Mrs Dahy, you were saying,” the Dame pressed.
“Right. Well –” My nemesis cleared her throat, still acting vulnerable and honest. I barely stopped a snort. Vulnerable and honest – two things that wouldn’t touch her with a thirty centimetres pole.
When the Dame looked at me, I shifted and turned my eyes to Evangeline.
“I want someone to laugh with. Who really knows me and not just the person I project to make it in this world. I want...a partner.”
“In crime,” I couldn’t help but mutter. My eyes widened as I suddenly remembered the kids. Shit. I hadn’t called social services yet.
“Are you okay, Mr Dahy?”
“Yeah. But do you have a phone I could borrow?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want to make a call while your wife is opening up her heart to you?”
I snorted. “She’s not –” Stopping, I clenched my jaw. ‘She’s not my wife’, she’s not really opening up’, and ‘She’s not got a heart’ were all things I couldn’t say.
Evangeline looked at me as if she was really hurt, and I bit back my urge to snort again. Clearing my throat instead, I tried to think of a way to salvage this because I wasn’t going to let her win at therapy.
“I mean… She’s a liar, a good actor, and competitive as fuck. She’s just saying all this to win at therapy.”
“Therapy isn’t something you win at.”
“Being competitive is not a negative trait.” She turned to me, her acting dropping for the first time since we sat down.
“It is if it turns you into a liar and a bitch.”
“Mr Dahy, calling your wife –”
“You only think that because you’re a poor loser. Maybe if you actually had any skill at anything” –she looked pointedly at my crotch– “then maybe you wouldn’t be against a bit of competition.
“A bit of competition? You turn everything into a full, blown-out war. Literally. When we were fighting –”
“In our marriage,” she jumped in, her eyes narrowing in warning. “He hits me.”
“I do not.” Mocking my performance was one thing, but making me out to be a wife beater –
“Oh? My bad. Choking me to death doesn’t count as hitting.” She touched her bruised throat. “That’s right. He’ll make me pay for that later.”
“I would never beat my wife.”
“That’s the issue, isn’t it?” Evangeline snapped, a flash of wetness in her eyes as she turned away. “You don’t see me as your wife.”
“Of course I fucking d–” I stopped, my gaze flying to the Dame. She was looking at us very interestingly, and I wondered how many people in here wanted Evangeline dead. This place was most definitely a front for one of the gangs. Even the server was probably strapped with a dozen knives.
“It’s been a week,” I muttered, pulling a number out of thin air as I turned back to face my nemesis. “And I wanted your money, not you. It was a pretty shit win.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and even though I knew she was acting, the sight of it squeezed something in my chest. “I just need time to come to terms with everything,” I said softly. “None of this is what I’d expected life to throw at me.”
She rubbed at her face but didn’t look at me. I shifted, the words in the air making me uncomfortable.
“Can I get you two anything to drink?” the server asked, appearing beside me with a smile. I turned to him thankfully, letting his presence snap the tension tying me to Evangeline. The only way I wanted to be tied to her was if I was the one holding the chain.
Reminding myself of that as the server left to get our drinks, I turned to the Dame. “So will you let us take their spots then?”
She studied me for a long moment, then turned to Evangeline. “You two clearly have a lot of issues, and I applaud you respecting the sacred bonds of marriage despite how you came to be wed.” She paused, her gaze back on me. “But why do you want this to work, Mr Dahy?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again. Wrestling with something I had struggled with for decades, I finally breathed it into existence. “I need an heir.”
“You don’t need to love your wife to have one.”
Swallowing my rebuttal about love existing in any way, shape, or form between us, I pushed out, “I don’t want him to grow up like I did. I want him to feel wanted as something other than a pawn between his parents.”
Evangeline turned to look at me, and my ears burned as I refused to meet her gaze. I didn’t have experience in coming up with lies on the spot. Everything I had said was true, and I hated that she knew this. I had enrolled in the army as soon as I could leave home, determined to make a name for myself. Be something more than just my parents’ weapon.
On the front lines, I had become someone people wanted. A comrade. A captain. A hero. I had even gained noble rank for killing the enemy’s witches, dealing a great blow to Raza and leading us to capture more territory.
But all that had changed when Evangeline had showed up. Her magic had been stronger than the combination of the witches I’d killed. She’d stripped me down further than my parents ever had, turning me into a mockery.
My fingers digging into my lap, I was relieved when the waiter came back with our drinks. The tightness in my chest eased as we all placed our orders.
“I believe that you want a mother for your child, Mr Dahy,” she said looking at me before turning to my nemesis, “and I believe that you want a partner, but why do you want him?” She glanced back at me. “And why do you want her?”
Neither of us answered, just sitting in silence, and I wondered if this was us failing at therapy. I didn’t mind losing if she also lost, but I doubted she felt the same. She was probably coming up with something that would make me look awful.
Wanting to beat her to it, I opened my mouth, but the Dame shook her head.
“Don’t answer now. You don’t know each other well enough, but I expect you to have an honest answer for me by tomorrow.”
“So you’ll let us into the retreat?” Evangeline asked, perking up.
The Dame’s gold eyes shifted to her. “As long as you can afford the fee.”
“What is it?”
“Twenty-five thousand pebs, plus the five hundred for this hour and the meal.”
“Twenty-five thousand?”
“That’s actually a pretty good deal if it’s five hundred an hour,” Evangeline piped up.
I turned to her, my gut tightening over just how blasé she was looking, and I just knew the bitch was going to make me pay for it. Sudden Eureka hit as she smiled at me. So that had been why she had came up with the lie about having been won in a game. I can’t pay. I’m broke, remember?
“Our marriage deal is worth more than that, right?” she asked, that fucking tilt back in her voice – acting like she was worried I would reject her. Hurt her. Making me look like a horrible husband in front of our therapist.
Scowling, I held out my left hand so we could tap wrists. The invisible runes on our skin would transfer the money between our banks. The Dame moved her gold bracelet up her arm and pressed her skin to mine. A warm heat formed through the magic as the payment went through. The number flashed across both our wrists as we pulled away, and she smiled kindly as she looked at it.
“I want you to each pack for the other. You get one bag, and you will not be able to top up anytime during the weekend. You also are not allowed to look in each other’s bags while you’re packing or tell the other what you wish to have. If you cheat, I will know, you will not be allowed into the retreat, and there are no refunds.”
My lips tightened as I looked at Evangeline, knowing damn well she was going to pack a suitcase of fucking air.
Yeah, well, I was going to fill mine with rocks.
We both nodded. Our food arrived, steaming aromas of hot spice that made my stomach growl. As soon as the plates were placed down, the Dame asked for a takeaway container.
“I must go sort the paperwork for your two’s arrival and the Morrison’s departure. At six, you are to be outside Ruffalo’s Inn at Quor Square. You will then be taken to the resort. If you change your face, which I understand is a necessity in your line of work sometimes, you will not be allowed to enter. I apologise for the inconvenience, but you are not my only clientele and I must protect everyone, which I am certain you can appreciate.”
We nodded.
“Good. Now, while you eat, you must stay touching each other. Alan will know if you don’t.”
She nodded at our server as he returned with her meal in a box, then looked pointedly at us.
Shifting her chair over, Evangeline put her hand on my leg, and I tensed. The Dame’s eyes focused on me, and struggling to keep my disgust-mixed arousal off my face, I grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“Good. Now goodbye, and I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
As soon as she left, I went to snatch my hand away, but Evangeline turned hers up and slid her fingers through mine. Leaning over, she murmured, “They’re watching, remember? You’re doing brilliantly. Don’t slip up now.”
The sudden compliment stunned me enough to still my limbs.
Chuckling, she glanced at me, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if the compliment had only been given to get me to still...or if it had been genuine.
Don’t be stupid, I scoffed. Of course it was fake.
Everything about her is fake.
Picking up my fork with my other hand, I tried not to concentrate on the feel of her callouses against mine. On how close her hand was to a particular part of my body that was currently straining for her touch.
Breathing heavily, I bit down on my food, nearly biting the utensil in half…