Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
Despite my doubts, Ash insists on calling the human authorities.
They are surprisingly gentle with her. They are less so with Brett, which meets my approval. They clear him out quickly, allowing the medics to take him out, after making sure he’s shackled.
Ash had called Betsy and Annemarie, glossing over what had happened and doing what she could to alleviate their worry.
I can hear the tone, if not the words. Both women want to be here, to comfort her.
Both offer her a place to stay, which she declines.
She brushes their concern aside, pointing out that I’m here.
A blessing or a curse?
I feel absolutely useless.
The authorities point out that she can’t stay here tonight. Not only do they need to continue working here, but the window is shattered.
Ash isn’t even phased when I tell her that Betsy had provided me an apartment and that we can stay there for the night. After what she’s endured tonight, it’s just one more thing.
She sits on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up to her chest.
She’s clean now. The men who responded allowed me to gather a bag for each of us.
I’d packed for us both, focusing on the things that I hoped would bring her the most comfort — her laptop, favorite clothes, toiletries.
Her things. She’s wrapped in soft cotton and silence.
The blood is gone. Brett is gone. But I know her skin — her mind — remembers. There, they may still exist.
I spend the time while she’s showering doing a mental tally of all of the traumatic scars this woman carries. I’m starting to consider that maybe it would be best for Ash to not remember.
Now though, I stand guard across the room, hands curled into fists at my sides. So much rage. So much impotent rage. I don’t trust the very air to not hurt her again and struggle to remind myself that she handled herself.
I haven’t left her side. Not since the crows. Not since hearing her scream. Not since she looked at a man who tried to take everything from her — to take her from me — and something inside her burned him back.
She slowly turns her head towards me. “You’re here.”
My voice feels too large for my tight throat. “Always.”
I study him for a long beat. His jaw is tight, his posture too still. He’s holding something back. He hasn’t touch me — not once — since he carried me upstairs.
“You’re afraid of me.” I say softly.
His head snaps up. “Never.” He growls.
I tilt my head, studying him. “Then why won’t you come closer?”
I can see his throat working. “Because I don’t want to be another man who takes, when you haven’t offered.”
My breath catches in my lungs.
“Do you think I’m truly broken now? That I need… I don’t even know.”
“I think you need whatever you need,” he says gently. “Space, rage. Do you want me to conjure someone you can pound the piss out of? Step out and leave you alone? Whisk you away to somewhere else?”
He’d really do any of it, I realize. He’d call Annemarie and let me kick him out of his own apartment — and how fucking long has that been a thing?
Even knowing what I did, somehow, to Brett. Even knowing that I don’t know what I’m capable of.
I rise to my feet, crossing the room on legs that don’t feel steady. I stop, just in front of him. So close I can smell the rain in his hair.
In the soft glow of the bedroom, it’s easy to focus and forget anything but him. The weight of unspoken words and pent-up emotions hang in the air, creating a charged atmosphere that is both tender and electric. It feels like we are on the precipice of something, but I’m not sure what.
I’m not sure I care anymore.
I rise to my feet, crossing the room on legs that don’t feel steady.
I stop, just in front of him. So close I can smell the rain in his hair.
My fingers trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his tee, keeping my touch gentle.
I know I’m not the only one that tonight is going to haunt.
He captures my hand with his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing my fingertips tenderly. “I’m always going to be here. Always.”
My heart swells in my chest until I feel like it’s about to burst. I lean in to kiss him, yielding against his mouth.
He breaks away to whisk away my sleep shirt, his own following.
Skin to skin. No rush, no demand. Not yet.
Just warmth. He leans in, deepening the kiss, spinning it out in a dance of tongues and teeth, a promise of more to come.
His hands find the small of my back, pulling me close, our bodies aligning perfectly.
Like they always have.
I can feel the emotions battering inside him, a reflection of my own. I need to remember that.
“Tell me what you want.” I whisper.
I just want to find peace. I want to bring him peace. I want to quiet that roaring of emotions I feel inside him, the way he can for me.
“Tell me what you need.” I allow my hands to wonder, exploring the hard planes of his chest, his abs.
His breath hitches, his voice a low growl. “I want you, Casie. All of you. I need to feel you, taste you. Lose myself in you.”
I shiver, my body responding to his words. I slip my fingers into the loops on his pants, walking backwards as I guide him back to the bed. His lips trace my collarbone. “Show me,” I whisper, my eyes locked with his. “Show me how much you want me. Make me feel alive.”
“I dreamed about you. Every night,” he murmurs. “But the real thing… Gods.”
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my skin. My naked skin.
“What?”
He grins, guiding me down, his cock sliding against where the heat is pooling in my body, teasing my entrance. I glance down and try not to goggle. He has vanished what was left of our clothes.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans. “So perfect.”
He eases me back, kissing down my ribs, my hips bones. Slow and bright as starlight, slowly making his way back to my mouth.
I gasp as he enters me, inch by inch, filling me completely. He leans down, his forehead resting against mine as he begins to move, my hips meeting his in a slow, sensual rhythm. “Flint,” I moan. I can hear the longing and pleasure in my own voice.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading them farther. “You feel so good. So tight.”
“I was made for you,” I gasp, feeling the pressure build in my core, muscles coiling tightly. “Fuck. I’m already close. Don’t stop.”
Flint’s thumb finds my clit, rubbing in tight circles, while the other continues gripping my hip, guiding it to meet his. “Come for me,” he urges, his voice a low growl. “Let me feel you come. Let me hear you scream my name.”
My body tenses, locking up before releasing in a wave of pleasure. I cry out, my body milking Flint’s cock where he is buried deep inside me. “Flint!” I scream, nails raking down his back. “Fuck! Flint!”
His grip tightens, his hips drilling down to meet my own, chasing his own release.
“Fuck, fuck fuck,” he groans, his body tensing above mine. I can feel his cock pulsing and kicking inside me.
He collapses on my chest, his head between my breasts. I bring my hands up to trace soft lines along his back while his heart races against my own. I can feel the air whistling out of my lungs as I work to slow my breathing.
“Thank you.” I finally manage.
I can feel him chuckle as he lifts his head enough to look at me. “For what, pray tell?”
I bite back a giggle at the expression on his face, lifting a hand to brush the wayward curls off his forehead. “For being here. For loving me. For being more than I had ever hoped for.”
“Oh. So not for the sex?”
“I mean… yeah, thanks for that too. It was okay.”
He digs his fingers into my ribs and I squeal. “Okay, huh?”
I feign boredom. “Yes. Mediocre, at best.”
He rolls onto his back, dragging me with him, until I’m straddling his hips. How the fuck is he already hard again? It has to be a Fae perk.
“I think we can do better than mediocre.”
My lips capture hers in another searing kiss. How can this woman fascinate and delight me at every turn? Mediocre my ass.
Her hips are seated against mine, no space between us. She begins to slowly move her hips, grinding in slow, sensual circles that have my mind going blank until there’s nothing but her.
“Ride me, love,” I urge, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “Show me how much you want me. How much you need me. You’re absolutely dripping.”
She obeys, hips rolling as she takes control, maintaining a slow, sensual pace. “I do want you.” She moans, head thrown back, body moving to give her what she needs.
My hands roam her body, enjoying her curves. Her hands reach up to knead her breasts and, in that moment, she is absolutely breathtaking. I cover her hands with mine, hips meeting her thrusts. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her pace quickens, her body chasing the next high that’s already building in her.
I bring her mouth down to mine, driving up into her. I bite her full bottom lip at the same time I pinch her clit between my fingers and she explodes, taking me with her.
When she’s collapsed on my chest, I wonder if I’ve died.
“Ah, yeah. I see what you mean. Definitely mediocre.”
She snorts.
We lay here, bodies entwined, hearts full, the darkness that began the evening put away for the moment. Bodies pressed close, hearts beating in sync.
He bends to rest his forehead against mine. “I guess it’s time to come clean,” he says, gravely.
Well, shit. “About?” Why does he have to say it like that?
Oh, fuck. He’s going back. Back to Goira, and I’ll never see him again. Now I’m catastrophizing and…
“Stop,” he chuckles, kissing my forehead. “I can see the scenarios dancing in your brain and they’re all terrible.”
“Shut up.” I pout. I want to stick my tongue out at him, but if I do that, we’ll probably end up back in bed and there are things we need to get done today. Probably. Maybe.
He pulls back slightly, bringing his hands up to tuck my hair behind my ears, as he stares into my eyes.