Chapter 12 - Grace
I bolt through the house so fast, I barely even notice the stairs and corners. It almost seems like I teleported—one second, I was facing Dan, where he was strapped to the wall; the next, I was in the bedroom slamming the door and pressing my back against it.
Through the searing panic, I search with a light touch of magic to make sure I’ve released the vines. I can feel them relaxing as they return to their natural positions on the wall, and then I hear Dan moving downstairs.
That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to leave him strapped to the wall.
Before I can stop it, the image of him pinned rises in my mind. When he strained against the vines, his muscles bulged, and his whole body rippled with fierce, irrepressible strength.
Maybe I would like him strapped to the wall…
I close my eyes, my tongue caressing my top lip as I think about his hands on me, the strong grip on my shoulders, and the heat of his body making me literally melt. When our lips came close together, I completely lost my reason.
And that’s when I called the vines. To protect me, to save me. But from what?
Desperate emotion rises in my chest, something I can’t immediately define, but it makes me want to scream and cry. I wrap my arms around myself and shiver, trying to get my emotions under control.
First, I had to have that talk with Kyra, another wound to my soul, confirmation that I’ll never be able to go to them and live with my sisters. Then I have to deal with him the second I get back!
My legs tremble, and I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. Shivers are racing through me, making my heart flutter in my chest.
If I couldn’t go to my sisters and live with them, I might be able to accept that—if I didn’t have to stay married to Dan! Why does the damn snake have such an interest in my personal life?
The thought makes me giggle, just a little. I know I’m completely losing it, but I also know I’m completely dodging the reason why.
With a sigh that sounds more like a sob, I lean my head back and listen to my body. My skin is singing, running with thrills. Heat flows through me, making my nipples hard and my thighs throb. Deep inside me, a sharp ache beats in time with my heart.
The barriers come down, and my mind rages with fantasies.
Dan yanking me against his chest and kissing me, tearing my dress right off as he gropes me and pins me against him.
As my body responds to the thought, I lean back against the door even further, a little moan escaping my lips as my legs open.
In my fantasy, I tear open his shirt and run my hands over his hard muscles, digging in my nails to scratch him gently and make him shiver. My head falls back as my bones melt, and I invite him into me—
Stop!
With a gasp, I sit up straight, clamping my thighs together and wrapping my arms around myself. Gulping, I force the images out of my mind and demand that the rest of me calm down.
My body stubbornly resists, the ache deep inside me settling a little but not going away. My nipples are so sensitive, just the feel of them grazing against my dress sends shivers of pleasure running through me all over again.
Stop, stop, oh my God, stop this!
Taking deep, long breaths, I clear my mind completely. The image of Dan pinned to the wall, held by my power and completely at my mercy, lingers a bit, but I manage to completely blank my thoughts, and my body finally starts to relax.
Do I want him to take me—or do I want to hold him hostage while I ravish him?
I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away.
It’s been so long since I felt this way.
Sadness pierces through the shield of calm I’ve built, and I start to tremble again. I had a couple of crushes in high school, and it definitely brightened my days and gave me fun things to think about. But ultimately, my fantasies betrayed me when those boys wouldn’t stay with me.
When I was out of school, I had a fling with another gardener that went pretty much the same way. The first few months were wonderful, just days of waking up happy, walking around with my body singing and my mind full of lustful possibilities.
Until he fucking dumped me.
The misery sets in and slowly seeps through my body. I encourage it, letting it push the good feelings away.
This is reality. The rest is just false hope.
Opening my eyes, I look around the room, grounding myself and forcing my mind to admit the only truth that matters.
I’m attracted to Dan. I admit that, and he probably wants me, too—but it’s just not worth it. We can’t stand each other for longer than five minutes without other people around. This is a disaster and a broken heart just waiting to happen.
A full-body shudder rings through me as I imagine how horrifically awkward it would be to have to deal with Dan every day—over breakfast, at dinner, at pack meetings—while I was dealing with sexual encounters gone bad.
Just imagine it. Being drawn to him constantly, fighting, never being in sync, but still fucking every day. No fucking way. Better to never start it in the first place.
When I finally get up, I’m surprised by how tired I am. My body is aching from the long walk and the stress, and even though I expect my mind to stay switched on, my thoughts fall into confusion, and I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to change into a nightgown.
I’m so tired, I don’t even have the strength to worry about what things will be like when I wake up. I just surrender to the dark, comforting wave sleep brings.
I wake up in the dawn light, feeling well rested and at peace—until my mind catches up and I remember everything that happened last night in a sudden, painful rush.
For just a moment, I lay there paralyzed, unable to accept the thought of going downstairs and facing him. Then the idea of him setting fire to the kitchen obliterates all else, and I leap out of bed, quickly throwing on a dress and hurrying to the kitchen.
I can’t take another breakfast disaster, not again. I don’t even know how we are going to get through today without another argument—
In the kitchen doorway, I stop suddenly as if I’ve been struck. I literally can’t believe my eyes and blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
Dan is standing over the stove, a look of intense concentration on his face as he carefully scoops fried eggs out of the pan onto a plate. The air smells like crispy bacon, fresh bread, and pepper, without even a hint of smoke.
What the fuck is going on here?
“Good morning, Grace,” he says, turning around and smiling when he sees me. “I made bacon and eggs. I hope you like it.”
“Thank you,” I say, coming slowly into the room and sitting down. He puts a plate down in front of me, and I look at it in astonishment.
The bacon is slightly burned on the edges, and the toast is pale, but overall, it’s a more than acceptable effort.
“Here,” he says, putting a cup of black coffee in front of me. “I’ll let you do your own sugar and milk, okay?”
“Sure,” I answer as he puts the jug of milk in front of me. I’m too stunned to move until he sits down across from me and digs into his own food.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
I realize I’ve been sitting as still as a stone statue for about five straight minutes, so I pick up my knife and fork. I carefully pierce a piece of toast with bacon and egg and try it.
“It’s actually really good,” I say, overstating it a bit, but wanting to give him praise.
“That’s great,” he says. “How about the coffee?”
I reach for the sugar, feeling much less confident. My morning coffee is a sacred thing to me, and it only takes one small mistake to ruin a whole batch.
Just take a sip. He’s trying. I should try, too.
I add a little sugar and milk, then pick up the cup to take a tiny sip. To my surprise, it’s full and rich, not too strong and not burned.
“It’s really, really good,” I say gratefully. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says, scraping the last of his food off his plate. “I wanted to make pancakes, but the method seemed really complicated. I thought this was the safest option.”
“Well, you did great. I appreciate it.”
“That’s great,” he says, and the awkward silence I’m so used to falls between us.
Dan looks at me, and I look right back at him. I can’t for the life of me think of anything to say. Panic rises in me, but it doesn’t help me find any words, so I just look down at my plate and eat my food.
A couple of times, Dan takes a breath like he’s about to say something, then doesn’t. I keep my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with him.
We should talk about last night.
The thought comes out of nowhere, and it freaks me out so bad that I almost drop my knife.
Don’t care if we should. Doesn’t mean I will!
To my horror, the fantasy I had crowds back into my mind, even though I try to suppress it. Heat creeps up my thighs, rushing up my belly and tightening my nipples. The arousal keeps blooming until I can feel my cheeks burning, and I know they have to be bright red.
Fuck. Fuck! What do I do now?
Dan clears his throat, and with the heightened sensitivity my magic gives me, I can sense heat rising in him, too.
No, no. I can’t talk about this! The coven said I had to marry him. No one ever said I had to fuck him.
Keeping my eyes down, I reach for my coffee, trying to keep my breathing steady.
Yeah, but what if I want to? What if I want to stand up right now and go to him, jump in his lap, and rip his shirt open—
My coffee goes down the wrong way, sending a flood of fiery pain through my chest. I barely manage to put the cup back down as I fight not to cough my guts out all over the table.
“Grace? Are you okay?”
I nod, still not looking at him as I try to swallow without coffee pouring out of my nose.
“I’m fine,” I gasp, reaching for a napkin. “Coffee just went down the wrong way, that’s all.”
“Oh, good. I thought I’d done something wrong.”
“No, no. The coffee’s fine. It’s me that’s defective.”
I look up at him, and his blue eyes are dancing with mischief, as if he’d like to make a joke but isn’t sure if he should. I clear my throat and wipe my nose, making sure I’m fully recovered from my mishap.
Was it an accident, or did I have to almost drown myself to avoid thinking about ripping Dan’s clothes off?
“We should get going soon,” I say with sudden firmness. “The pack will be waiting. Thank you for breakfast.”
The light goes out of his eyes a little, but he just nods. “Sure. Just stack your plate up when you’re done; I’ll wash up later. We’ll get going as soon as you’re ready.”
The warmth going out of his eyes makes me feel a bit guilty, but I remind myself that it’s better this way.
It will only cause us so much more misery if we get close physically but can’t close the other gaps between us. This hurts, but it hurts less than giving in and living with regret.