Lilith
“Fuck!” I shout as smoke starts rising from the oven. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
This has never happened to me. Ever. Pot roast with potatoes is my specialty.
Hope is better at everything else, whether it’s cooking or baking. She’s a pro.
I, though, only have this. Whenever Hope and the Griggs ate it, they moaned because they loved it so much.
And Alaric, who’ll be here any minute now, won’t get to have it.
All because I messed up the timer on the new oven.
After convincing myself I’d set it right, I went to take a shower, blow-dry my hair, put on makeup, and slip into the cute red polka-dot dress I ordered online. The whole process took hours, way longer than it should have, since my mind drifted back to Alaric the entire time.
Who did he kidnap yesterday on his day off, and more importantly, who did he save?
I don’t have the answers to these questions, since I didn’t stalk him last night, but I do know this: When Alaric talked to me, whether through texts or when he came over, he danced around the truth. Meaning, he has a new abuser in his storage unit.
He has his reasons for holding on to his secrets, sure. Our relationship is still new. Still, I couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t stop obsessing over it, a mistake that I think cost us our meal.
A thick, scorching wave of smoke bursts free from the oven when I yank it open, dragging me from my thoughts. I use an oven mitt to fan it away, glancing inside, hoping I might be able to salvage some of the food.
No chance in hell.
“Fuck,” I cry out.
“Are you okay?” Hope rushes into the kitchen with a robe pulled tight around her, shampoo suds still clinging to her hair. Poor thing ran out of the shower. “Lil?”
“The pot roast.” My shoulders sag after I toss the oven mitt onto the counter. “I ruined it.”
As if only seeing it now, her brown eyes skim the open oven, the smoke hanging in the room, then my crumpled face. She nods once, then in small, hurried steps, goes over to the windows, opening two to air out the apartment.
“Come here.” She stalks over to me, arms open. “It’s okay. It’s just food.”
“It’s not just food.” I sigh, but accept her hug anyway, not caring that her wet hair soaks my cheek. “I wanted this dinner to be his best one ever. But I got the timer wrong. I didn’t watch it either. Ugh. I’m going to ugly cry.”
“Listen to me.” Her hands are warm on my shoulders as she pulls back and meets my eyes. “I know where your head’s at, and no. Alaric isn’t breaking up with you over a burned pot roast. He’s not gonna lose his shit over it either.”
“I really fucked up, though.”
“You didn’t. Besides, the man loves you.” She gives me a little squeeze. “He’ll still love you when we order pizza and eat it in the living room.”
“Why not in the dining area?”
“We could, except…” She offers me an apologetic smile. “It’s even closer to the kitchen than the living room and, don’t be mad, but it doesn’t smell great here.”
My eyes slam shut. “Ugh.”
“Lil.” After a few seconds of silence, I dare to look at her. “From what you told me, he’s nothing like your bitch of a mother. He’s good, kind, understanding. More importantly, he doesn’t expect you to be this robot who never makes mistakes. You said as much, remember?”
Old dread creeps in. My shoulders hunch. “No, he isn’t like her, but—”
Three raps on the door cut me off.
“Oh, shit, he’s early.” Hope gasps and rushes down the hall. “Give me twenty. Tell him I’m sorry.” She stops in the doorway of her bedroom and looks back at me. “Also, just because he’s punctual doesn’t mean he’s good enough for you. I still get to interrogate him.”
My head knows I’m supposed to laugh.
My heart, beating too fast, can’t get past the panic.
Lilith. Mom’s voice booms. It rattles inside my head as if someone’s smashing pots and pans in a kitchen. You brought this on yourself, you know that, right? You’re such a fuck-up. Always have been. Why did God have to take your father and leave me with you? Why couldn’t he take you instead?
Another rap on the door.
A soft, patient one.
Alaric, not Mom.
I hurry over to him, my heels clicking on the floor, my dress moving with my body.
Sadly, feeling beautiful doesn’t erase my anxiety. I’m still a disappointment. Still the one who messed up our dinner.
I hope he won’t be mad.
I take a deep breath, open the door, and for a second, I forget about everything.
This man can pull off scrubs, sweatpants, and old, worn-out clothes flawlessly.
This, however, is something else.
The dark blue suit matches his eyes as if it was made for him. Clean lines of expensive fabric fall over lean muscle, accentuating broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and long, perfect legs. His white shirt sits open at the top, two undone buttons revealing his strong collarbone.
My gaze greedily fills in the rest, my mind remembering how every hard plane looks beneath the clothes.
Then there are his gorgeous hands. He uses them to torture, maim, and kill. They also hold me down when he fucks me and crack against my ass when he spanks me.
And tonight, one of them offers me flowers. A bouquet of white tulips. In the other, he has a small-handled bag, with the neck of a wine bottle peeking out of it.
“Wow,” I whisper as my eyes trail higher, to his new haircut, to his pleased smirk.
He’s so handsome that staring at him almost hurts.
“Good evening to you too.” His voice is rich, eyes gleaming, just a little.
He’s happy to be here.
For the time being.
He won’t, once he realizes I couldn’t even set the fucking timer.
That I’m a…
Disappointment. Disappointment. Disappointment.
Mom’s voice is right. Alaric saved my life, and I couldn’t even watch the pot roast.
I try to stop my chin from wobbling…and fail.
Alaric’s face hardens the longer he stands there.
“Lilith.” His jaw tics, eyes roaming over me, searching for what’s broken. “What’s going on?”
My chest hitches. Can’t get a breath in. My lungs, they’re flat. My heart is in my throat.
So dizzy.
Dammit with these panic attacks. I’d rather cry than have him see me going through one of these.
Except it doesn’t work that way, does it? You can’t bargain when it comes to human anatomy, physiology, old wounds, and, and…
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I have. “I’m sorry.”
A snarl twists his lips as he stares at the flowers and wine. He curses before placing them carefully on the floor and pulling me into his arms.
“What did I do wrong?” His breath is warm and familiar on the top of my head.
His hands skim up and down my back, tethering me to him.
“Was it my face? My expression, dammit, it’s too harsh sometimes.
But I’m not upset. I’ve been waiting for this since yesterday.
Even when we were having lunch together today, I was thinking about tonight. ”
“I-I—” My nails dig into his waist. I’m crumpling his perfect suit jacket. Can’t stop.
“Baby.” Alaric pulls back, barely enough for me to breathe. He tips my chin up, and another shiver goes through me, worse than the last, because his eyes are the bluest I’ve ever seen. So deep, like the ocean. And maybe, after today, that look in them won’t be mine anymore. “What is it?”
There’s not an ounce of malice in his voice, not a tinge of reproach.
It takes me way longer than it should to remember how good he is.
How safe I am with him.
Deep breath.
“The oven, I—” Shivers continue to rack my body. My teeth chatter. “The food, then the oven, I—I…”
“The oven what, baby? It’s broken?” He looks genuinely confused, one brow lifting. “I’ll replace it. I’ll redo the entire kitchen if it makes you feel better.”
“N-not the oven. It’s dinner. And you. You work so hard.” Healing good people. Torturing the bad guys. “And I love you so much. I wanted you to have a homemade meal for once. Not something bought or made by a chef who doesn’t care about you. But I burned it. I-I’m a disappointment.”
“Never. Don’t you ever say that.”
He growls, leans in, and seals his mouth on mine.
This kiss isn’t a consolation prize or an act of pity.
It’s hungry and feral.
He wants me.
With his hands on my jaw, he devours my mouth, forcing my tongue to mate with his. His breath is hot and minty. His cologne makes me heady.
He’s tending to me with his lips, his tongue, his fingers. I’m cared for. Cherished.
One kiss after the other, he melts the tension from my body.
And though tremors continue rippling beneath my skin, at least the world isn’t closing in on me anymore.
“Where’s Hope?” His question catches me off guard.
“Hope?” Then—right, we asked him over for dinner. “You got here early. She asked to give her twenty and said that being punctual doesn’t give you a free pass from being interrogated.”
“Of course.” A smile slashes over his handsome face. “Come on. Twenty minutes is plenty of time.”
“Time for what?”
He doesn’t explain, simply takes me to the closest seat, which is the stool at the kitchen island. He gets the flowers and wine next, setting them carefully on the counter.
Once he closes the door to my home, his expression turns intense as he stalks toward me.
My stomach twists. I have no idea what’s going on.
“Alaric?”
“Shh.” With incredible ease, he scoops me into his arms, bridal style, and carries me to my room.
“Wait, I need to order food.” He must be hungry, and here I am, letting him spoil me when I should be the one taking care of him. Ugh. “Pizza’s the easiest, right?”
“Fuck pizza. Fuck food.” His long gait gets us to my bedroom before the word food leaves his mouth. “You need me, and I’m going to take care of you.”
The things he’s saying, his hoarse voice, I have to suppress a moan. My panties are ruined. Soaked.
When he closes the door to my room, I’m already so worked up that my nipples strain against my bra. I groan from the friction.
From his touch too. The careful way he lowers me to my feet. His hands slide from my neck to my arms, my waist. It’s heaven.
My palms are shaky on his chest when I ask, “You’re not disappointed? Really?”