CHAPTER NINE
MATHIAS
It doesn’t take long to figure out why she was so hesitant.
The stench of dogs, urine, and manufactured vanilla hits me as soon as I step inside the apartment after Allison locks the dogs away in her roommate’s room.
Dirty dishes lay scattered around the kitchen while tufts of gray fur form an army of dust bunnies on the floor. A black cat saunters out of a door that lets out a little jingle from the bell on the knob, and the smell of piss becomes stronger.
What the fuck is Allison doing still living here?
Because this is far worse than I imagined.
I thought I’d find outdated appliances and peeling paint—and those things exist, but they’re not the most pressing reason why it’s unsafe to stay. It’s the beginning of a Hoarders episode that concerns me most.
My attention snaps to Allison, ready to point out the ridiculousness of forgoing a nice, clean apartment for this dump, when the watery haze filming her eyes stops me in my tracks. Shame pours from her hunched body as if waiting for the humiliating blow of my judgment, and I take a moment to study the apartment again.
Yes, paper plates with half-eaten pizza crusts are stacked on the counter, but a tied trash bag rests against a kitchen cabinet. Rubber gloves and a sponge rest beside the full sink, soap bubbles attesting to the fact that they were recently used.
And yes, the overwhelming aroma of animals and a dirty litter box speaks to a lack of care, but then there's a vanilla candle flickering on the coffee table attempting to mask it all. Kitschy artwork and knickknacks decorate the walls and furniture as if someone tried to create a cozy home amidst the chaotic mess.
"Would you rather go back outside?" she asks quietly, her knuckles white as she hugs tight fists around her waist.
"No, here's fine.” There’s a softness in my tone that I’ve never heard before, but it feels like speaking above a soothing baritone might shatter the fragility draping Allison. “Where do you sleep?"
"At the end of the hall." She points to a closed door where a cheerful Valentine’s Day sign hangs over the back. It's out of season now, but clearly, that's the least of her problems.
Striding toward the room, I notice the other three doors in the hall are closed as well, and I wonder what state of disarray they’re hiding.
Bits of glitter fall off the cheap sign as I swing the door wide and get my first glimpse of Allison's room.
It smells fresher here. A window by her bed lets in a cool breeze, and there's one of those fragrance plug-ins on the wall by her nightstand.
The cat follows us inside and hops onto the mattress, turning in a circle before plopping down on the comforter and promptly beginning to bathe its paw.
It seems Allison isn't the main contributor to the mess outside her room, since there looks to be attempts at being neat. Folded clothes, bed made, ensuite bathroom counter clear.
Though there are still spots of half-done chores.
I'm not judging her, but the lack of cleanliness worries me. I don't want her living this way. Especially when it can't be healthy breathing in the dust and animal byproducts floating in the air.
Allison gathers a small pile of clothing from the desk in the corner and hurries to a packed walk-in closet.
"Sorry for the mess. If I'd known you were coming by, I would have..."
I raise my hand to cut her off. "An apology isn't necessary. Just tell me what you need." It’s not what I expected to say, but it feels right. Allison obviously requires help. It’s just a matter of figuring out what is top priority.
“Need?” Her brow wrinkles. Like no one has ever asked how best to support her before.
I wouldn’t have guessed that was her background. Sure, she didn’t grow up in a sick bastard’s makeshift mercenary school like me, but I figured she had a semblance of a happy childhood based on her past academic achievements and two parents who were still married rather than divorced.
Obviously, I was wrong, and those didn’t count for shit.
My hands cover hers where they're fiddling with an empty water bottle from the nightstand, and she freezes at the contact. Her face remains averted, until I gently hook her chin between thumb and forefinger and guide it upward.
"Don’t deny something is amiss here, so what do you need?" I don't know why I'm pushing this. Don't know why it matters to me. If Allison wants to live life harder than she has to, that's her prerogative. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.
Yet I'm in Raleigh after chartering the jet to check on her.
Why?
She’s a puzzle, and you itch to solve them.
That's the only reason.
“I—”
The reaction I was trying to avoid earlier finally comes as tears stream down Allison's flushed cheeks. Her silent cries rattle the chain wrapped tightly around the gnashing beast I keep buried deep unless someone fucks with me or my brothers.
So why is it waking for Allison?
Why does she affect me so easily?
"I need help," she admits with a shudder.
Words spill from her like a flood, matching the increasing pace of each tear as her face gleams with resignation. The guarded walls she kept high and barbed-wired crumble like they were made from a stack of playing cards—one pointed blow and they came tumbling down.
"I'm so tired. So overwhelmed. Even when I thought about using the money to hire a maid service, I couldn't do it. There's so much to do, and it's embarrassing. Every website said they didn't deal with clutter, which is half the problem. I tried to clean and organize, and I got some done but then..." More quiet sobs fall as she chokes on her words.
"What about your roommate?"
Allison sighs and deflates, though my grasp keeps her gaze on me.
"Bailey..." She bites her lip, contemplating the question. "Since she's dealing with her own mental health stuff, she doesn't think she should have to help. Which I get, but everything's become a nightmare since she lost her job. She and the pets depend on me for everything at this point, and even with your money, I can't do anything. I’m stuck. Burnt out."
"I wish I had someone who could..." She stops and shakes her head at the unspoken thought. "Nevermind. It's selfish."
"You wish you had someone to assume control. Take care of you. Shoulder the heavy burden you've placed on yourself without a second thought."
Blood pounds in my ears.
In my heart.
In my cock.
The air charges around us, and it requires all of my willpower to remain outwardly calm, despite the feral hunger Allison's half-voiced admission ignites.
Don’t take the bait.
You didn’t come to North Carolina for this.
"How did you…?” Wonder shines through the tears before she shakes it off, swiping at a few salty droplets. “It's a foolish dream. I don't want to burden another person with my messy life. Everyone has problems, and I'll deal with mine like I always have." A tremulous smile forces its way onto her lips, and I growl at the brave facade she's trying to project.
I don't want fake positivity.
I don't want lies.
"No, Angel, you won't." I studiously ignore the endearment that slips out and continue, "You saved my life. It's time I save yours."
A watery laugh trembles from her throat. "I'm not dying. Just having a tough time. It'll pass."
“Agreed. Forget about calling the maid service or breaking your lease. I'll handle things from now on.”
My brothers hate my impulse to lead. My need to control a situation. We're independent men with our own unique skill sets, but that doesn't mean I'm content sitting back when someone should captain the ship.
I had so little control growing up with Conrad dictating my every move. No autonomy from the moment my mom pawned me off on him.
"I can’t let you do that. Not when it’s my responsibility. It’s too generous."
"No one has ever accused me of being generous in my life. You think it's selfish to ask for help and receive it? For me to bear the mental load for you? I've got news for you, Allie Angel." I tighten my hold on her chin and dip my head lower so she breathes in the rasp of my words. Lets them sink so deeply into her soul that she knows I'm serious. "I'm the fucking selfish one. You just offered a starving lion his first glimpse of a succulent gazelle."
My body backs Allison into the wall as I allow her to see the dark craving in my expression. Rational thought has fled the scene. I’m acting on pure instinct now.
“And I'm greedy for a taste.”
"Y... you are?" Her chest hitches as my lips skim along her jawline to the pulse racing in her neck. I savor the sweet rush of power it fills me with. So vulnerable. So ripe for the taking.
That may not have been the plan upon landing in Raleigh, but I’m an adaptable man, especially when it comes to claiming something I want.
"I want your submission, ma cherie , and you offered it to me on a silver platter." It may not have been what she had in mind when she voiced her secret desire, but it was at the core of her request.
Allison is a strong woman; I don't doubt her strength.
She’s brave; I witnessed it firsthand.
But my guardian angel is also weary. Bogged down by more than she's shared so far I'd wager. So overwhelmed that even the simplest of tasks seems daunting.
She said it herself—she needs help.
And I'm just the man to give it to her.