Chapter 24
Fallon
I’m floating as we walk back into our building, my arm looped through Rhys’s. His body leans into mine, his chin held high. Like he’s proud to be with me.
Proud to be mine. Proud that I’m his.
“Another Friendsgiving is over,” I murmur into the silence, puffs of air coming off my lips.
“You still got one friend right here.” His grip tightens, and he smiles at me.
Rhys had carried the heavy glass tray to the church. He ignored every wandering hand that tried to brush his arm in the buffet line. He even brought me the entire tray of everyone’s favorite cupcakes, like a knight returning from battle with the heads of my enemies on a silver tray.
The way our lips touched as he fed me the cupcake, I nearly passed out from the endorphin and sugar rush.
“Thank you for coming with me this year,” I say before I forget.
A grunt saws out of his throat. “I wish you had told me how rude those people are sooner, I never would have let you come here alone.”
“Some people just need someone to bully.”
Rhys stops and faces me. “Were you bullied?”
“Sure,” I say. “When you’re different like me, you get bullied. Were you ever bullied?”
He’s silent and pensive. “No.”
“Of course not,” I groan out a laugh. “Who would bully you? Or your cousins? You all are strong and powerful.”
Rhys pins me against a cold brick wall, but his body radiates warmth. “How exactly do you know what I do?”
My face goes hot. Confession time. “That letter I sort of stole a while back.”
He stops. “The one from my mother?”
“It was already sort of opened,” I say, blushing. “I read it. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sort of not mad,” he jokes with me. “However, I can’t believe my mum put any of that in writing.”
“She was worried about you.” I tug on him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”
He stares at me, “Aye?”
“I worry, too. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”
“How is that?”
“I see how you clean your guns. Very methodical. I know methodical.”
Rhys gets serious and holds my face. “I will never hurt you, Fallon. No one will hurt you if I can help it. And if anyone does, they’re dead. Immediately. Throat slit. No bullet in the back of the head like a coward. They will see my face and hear me say your name again and again.”
His words should absolutely terrify me. But they don’t.
A fire stirs low in my belly, and electricity buzzes up my spine. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Right, let’s get home.”
Home…
We reach the lobby, and Rhys holds my hand, striding to the elevator where a car waits for us in the middle bank. We step inside, and I watch the door close.
“Thank you,” I whisper, standing against the back wall.
“You already thanked me,” Rhys says.
I stare into his eyes. “Not just coming with me. For making me not look like a liar. No one ever believed that I had a boyfriend.”
His expression goes unreadable for a beat. “I’m sorry you had to go through that the other years. Trust me, that won’t happen again.”
When he says things like that, my heart does somersaults.
One moment from today replays over and over. Mean Annie, with her fake lashes like butterfly legs, sidled up to Rhys and purred, “If you ever get tired of playing with the weird girl, call me.”
My jaw had actually dropped.
The weird girl.
Also, what an unnecessarily salacious voice for someone wearing a blue knitted dress that smelled like mothballs.
“What a harlot,” I mutter under my breath.
Rhys glances down, amused. “Who?”
“No one,” I cough, embarrassed that he heard me.
Then again, an assassin would have excellent hearing. Tonight, he was polite and lethal at the same time. Everyone at church reacted to him with a respect tinged with fear. I like how safe I feel next to him. If anyone tried to touch me, they would have lost a few fingers.
I haven’t imagined how he would be in bed. I never thought we’d get to that stage. He’s been so busy. But today was different. Today, we crossed over to a new level. We kissed. Sort of.
And we have a whole month of these events. This was the first one, and he already put his lips on me.
We reach my door, and my mind blanks out, thinking he will want to kiss me goodbye. That’s what happens after a date, right?
I see couples kissing in the park. Some sweet. Some use their tongues. That would be a first for me. Rhys has been so patient with me all these years. Maybe he’s waiting for me to make the first move.
“I had a good time, Fallon.”
Laughing, I say, “Really? Even if you didn’t get to kill anyone?”
He goes rigid. “I don’t kill for fun.”
“Oh, right.” I exhale. “Stupid.”
“No!” He lifts my chin, so our eyes meet. “You’re not stupid. I don’t expect you to understand how it feels to do what I do. I don’t want you to have anything to do with my…job.”
Nodding, I say, “Do you ever feel bad?”
Redness tints his high cheekbones, and he scrubs a hand down the back of his neck. “It’s getting late. Let’s call it a night,” he says quietly, holding out the empty tray.
“Oh. Um. Okay.” I take it. “Let me bring it inside.”
“I can carry it in for you.”
“No.” I clutch it to my chest, the tight grip letting me feel something other than guilty. “I’ve got it.”
A silence swells between us. My heart is trying to break out of my rib cage.
“Rhys?” My voice goes small.
“Aye?”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
He gazes into my eyes.
“Aye,” he repeats, voice low and throaty this time. “I would very much like to kiss you. Go put that thing away.”
“Right. Don’t go anywhere,” I sing-song and dart into my apartment.
I set the tray on the kitchen counter and stare at my plants, all craning their leaves toward me.
‘How was it?’ Ivy says, her vines knotted together like a bestie would fold her hands under a chin.
‘Can you talk in the living room or build me a hook in the kitchen?’ Fern croaks from her swing.
‘Did he go home with someone else?’ Basil grumps from his pot.
“No. He didn’t go home with someone else,” I scoff and give him a bratty flick on one leaf.
‘Ouch,’ he exaggerates.
“I’ll tell you all everything in a minute,” I coo. “Rhys is finally going to kiss me.”
Ivy lets out a hoot. Fern’s hanging plant hits the ceiling as she swings with delight.
I creep back out into the hall and light up that Rhys is still there. “You waited.”
“Of course I did.” He acts like he hasn’t breathed since I left.
I close the door behind me and lean back against it. “Of course you did.”
He steps closer.
Then closer.
“Your voice, Fal…” His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, and the earth stops spinning. “It drives me fucking nuts.”
Then he kisses me.
At first, it’s feather-light, just the barest press of his lips on mine. They make tiny circles against my mouth like he’s memorizing the shape of it.
My knees go soupy.
He pulls back a fraction, his breath ragged. “Do you want more?”
My whole body tingles. My nipples buzz to life. Heat pools low in my belly. It’s molten hot and disorienting.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Something in his eyes flares, and this time, his mouth claims mine.
The kiss is warm and deep and slow. His tongue traces the outside of my mouth until it slides inside and finds mine.
He’s gentle…and somehow devastating, like he’s unraveling me with every breath.
My fingers clutch his shirt. He’s the only thing keeping me from melting right into the floor.
He tilts my head and kisses me deeper. Coaxes my tongue to tangle with his and tastes me as if he’s starving. “Fuck, you’re so sweet.”
This is nothing like Kosta. It’s nothing like anything I’ve known. Like a bolt of lightning kissing a tree and the tree kissing back.
My skin prickles. My heart pounds. And I no longer feel entirely human.
When Rhys finally tears his mouth from mine, there’s sweat on his brow, his chest heaving like he just ran a 10k.
“Oh, Christ, I—” he starts, almost apologetic.
“How was that?” I blurt.
He stares at me, then slowly drawls in his thick accent, “That was the best kiss of my life.”
“Better than with your other girlfriends?”
His lips twitch. “I’ve never had one.”
I blink. “What?”
“I’ve never had a girlfriend. Until you, Fallon.”
“Oh.” I smile and try to match his wickedness. “Good.”
His eyes darken, slow and sexy. “You always this confident?”
“Only when I mean it,” comes out because he makes it easy to be confident. He gives me that boost instead of dragging me down.
Something hot and reckless coils between us, wicked enough that neither of us moves. His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. There’s a brief lick to his lips, and then his eyes close softly.
“Well… Good night, Fallon,” he says, low and deep.
It’s not a dismissal. It’s a promise of more kisses another day.
“Good night, Rhys.” I wink and turn before I can second-guess myself.
Smiling, I glide into my apartment, leaving him alone in the hallway with that look in his eyes that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
I don’t even remember walking inside.
All I know is I’m leaning against my kitchen counter, dazed and electric. As I move to get a glass of water, I feel a strange dampness in my underwear.
“Um,” I murmur, peeking down at myself. “I feel something warm. Between my legs.”
Fern giggles. ‘You’re aroused, sweetheart. I don’t blame you.’
“Oh.” Feeling bold, I slip my finger under my skirt and inside my panties. My eyes go hazy at how wet I am. “I… I feel something. I want… I want Rhys in my bed.”
Ivy sighs dreamily. ‘And how was your date with him?’
My throat tightens, I say, “Perfect. He was perfect.”
I catch my reflection in the kitchen window.
“I was perfect, too…”
I skip to the calendar and cross Friendsgiving off the list with a flourish, using two different color markers.
“Greenies, I don’t think I’m going back next year,” I say, but don’t turn around, afraid of the judgment in the shine of their leaves.
‘Did they ignore you again?’ Fern asks.
“Worse.” I turn to face the plants. “They mocked me.”
‘Did Rhys kill them?’ Basil asks.
As much as he’s a grump, I need to feel his pot and smell his sweet aroma to calm down. I gave Cami away and can’t add her leaves to my tea to relax.
“No, Basil.” I rub one of his leaves, softer this time. “But he would if I asked him.”
‘A morally gray hero with a heart of gold for his girl,’ Ivy keens.
“Are you spying on my romance novels over there?” I put Basil on the desk and open my laptop.
From , I order more planting pots, but these will be glazed in the festive green, white, and red pattern.
“It’s that time of year again,” I warn the plants, spinning back to face them. “We’ll have to make room for new friends from the garden for the Bryant Park Holiday Market.”
Ivy sighs, her vines curling inward. ‘I miss Sage.’
“I know.” I press a finger to her crisp, glossy leaves, a bit dry, but still rich with sheen. She’s stubbornly holding on to her summer coating. “We’ll keep one for us this time.”