CHAPTER 8 ELODIE #2
Caden’s standing on the opposite side of the huge island, arms crossed and brows flattened into an unimpressed line.
Tightly pressed lips and a clenched jaw.
He’s got on a white vest, tight pecs and pebbled nipples poking out the fabric.
Black jogging bottoms hang loose on his hips, revealing the elastic band of his boxers.
A massive black Cane Corso – whom I glimpsed last night and nearly made me pass away entirely – by his side.
He doesn’t bother coming to inspect me again.
It’s too uncomfortable to look Caden in the eye, remembering what he did to me and how my body reacted.
So, I avert them down. I examine his tattoos closer this morning.
I saw them last night, but I was too preoccupied with the anticipation of him doing something horrid that I didn’t really absorb them.
Now I see them clearly. Those squares on his right arm look like a deck of tarot cards falling from his shoulder.
Each one with a unique weapon, all stamped on the same tarot: Death.
I don’t make it subtle as I stare at each card trailing along his arm. One card has an axe on it, several of them have different guns, one has a hammer. Another one is a screwdriver, and the last one I spot is a rope in the shape of a noose.
I gulp uncomfortably and look back up at him. He’s scowling at me. He drops his arms and circles them behind his back.
The foreboding images now hidden, I tear my gaze away from his.
Alfie’s by the coffee machine. He looks up to beam at me and then pulls a mug from the side. “Good morning, princess.”
His soft, deep voice unwinds my rigid body.
I take him in. He’s shirtless, baring all those huge, masterfully honed muscles.
The man has muscles I didn’t even know we had in our torso.
His upper body is covered in tattoos, cutting off at the base of his neck.
A massive array of art. He’s got grey joggers hiding his bottom half.
I’m hit with a sudden desire to see him naked. Is he tatted everywhere else?
Swallowing that before it makes me sweat, I say, “Good morning, Alfie.”
Caden rolls his eyes. “I’ll be in the garage. Don’t disturb me.” With that, he turns on his heel and stalks off, his enormous bulk of a dog following.
So, I guess apologies for sexual assault aren’t a thing around here.
As he walks away, I notice what looks like the top of a set of inked angel wings poking out of the lining of his vest on his shoulder blades, a date inked in an inward curve around the knot at the base of his neck.
Once he’s gone, I look to Fiz, who’s still smirking at me. “Can I be promised a day of not being bitten? Or should I steer clear of you too?”
Fiz’s face breaks into a full grin, the first one I’ve seen from him.
Two dimples appear on his cheeks, completely cracking his devilish aesthetic into something youthful, something more appealing.
A smile that could disarm an asp. It stuns me for a moment.
He chuckles, low and amused. “Oh, honey, you should steer clear of me anyway. I will never promise not to bite.” He gnashes his teeth together in a growling chomp that could probably rival Bob’s.
It snaps me back, instantly remembering how vile this man is, cute dimples or not. I go to spit a retort at him when Alfie sticks a mug of steaming coffee in my face. “You’re looking better. Sleep well?”
I take the cup and thank him, looking down at the creamy brown heat and sweetness and goodness. My entire mouth fills with saliva. How long has it been? “I did, actually, once I was left alone and no intruders came to abuse me.”
Fiz makes a dramatic roll of his eyes. “What a drama queen. I’ll be in the den for a bit, I have some guns to clean. Disturb me all you wish.” He winks at me and pushes off the side. As he strides past me, he slaps my ass.
It startles me, the sting of it as sharp as his fucking audacity to do it in the first place. The impact has me nearly dropping my coffee.
“Don’t do that!” I sneer at him, debating whether I should throw this mug at his stupid grinning face.
Fiz just smirks, turning to walk backwards as he locks eyes with me. “I’ll be doing a lot worse to you, Sleeping Beauty.” Then he disappears through the dining room area and then out through another door. Bob looks up at me inquisitively for a moment before following him.
Finally, I let my shoulders droop. Then Bruiser approaches me curiously. I stiffen.
Don’t show fear.
Easier said than done.
He sniffs my legs, and it takes a great effort not to jump into Alfie’s arms.
“I could apologise on his behalf,” Alfie says from beside me, “but then I’d be apologising all damn day.”
“He’s such a prick,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off Bruiser as he continues to inspect me.
“Yep. That’s Fiz through and through.”
“Fucking great.”
Alfie chuckles. “You know, it used to be so boring around here before you came along. I can tell this is going to be so much fun.”
“If you call having to fight off creepy men every day ‘fun’, so be it.” Bruiser chuffs at me and loses interest, padding away.
Alfie hooks an arm around my shoulder. “Ah, come on, El, you’re holding your own already. I like that.”
There’s that nickname again. Now I’m not distracted for it to cross briefly through my awareness, it hits me like a train.
El.
Lewis.
My chest tightens and I press my lips together, staring down into my coffee as I cup it in my hands, letting the warmth seep into my palms.
“You okay?”
“Mhmm,” is all I can manage around the boulder lodged in my throat.
“What do you want to do today?”
I bring the mug to my lips then take a big gulp, my whole body flooding with ecstasy. Holy shit. “I think I’m going to rest. I’m still aching.”
“Of course,” Alfie says, releasing his grip around my shoulders. “Higgins is dropping off a drip for you today. Other than that, you can be left alone. If you wish.”
“I wish.”
He chuckles. “Then your wish is my command.”
I smile at him. He’s so easy to breathe around. Maybe spending my time with him wouldn’t be so bad – but he did just let Fiz smack my ass without saying a word. His allegiance is with them, as it should be. I shouldn’t let him get too close.
I thank him again for the coffee, and as I turn to leave, he opens a cupboard. A glimpse of a blue packet stops me dead in my tracks.
Oh my.
“Are they?” My voice is shaking, my mouth practically drooling already.
Alfie glances over his shoulder at me, frowning. I lift a finger to point inside the cupboard. He looks, then back to me. “What?”
Biscuits. Hobnobs.
Biscuits.
I haven’t had a single fucking biscuit since Lewis was alive.
Now my eyes are filling with tears. Over biscuits.
I clear my throat, try not to sound like I’m about to go completely feral for a packet of Hobnobs. “Whose biscuits are they?”
He spots the packet and grabs them, “Oh, Fiz’s.” He extends them to me. “Want them?”
I shake my head. “God forbid. Who knows what that animal would do if I took his snacks.”
Alfie chuckles. “El, you’re practically foaming at the mouth. He’s cleansing, he can’t have sugar like biscuits for another two weeks. He only eats them when he’s high and gets the munchies anyway. I’ll replace them before he even notices.”
Why am I on the brink of crying?
I swallow hard, take the packet from his hand and give him my warmest, most grateful smile. “Thank you.”
He winks at me, a half-smile on his lips. “No worries. Have what you want, honestly, if you can eat, then eat. It doesn’t matter what right now.”
I can only keep smiling at him, lest I burst into a million droplets of tears.
I wander back upstairs, clutching the biscuits to my body like some loot I’ve just robbed. He calls me El, he gives me biscuits, he’s looking after me.
Don’t, the darkness hisses, like I’ve just threatened to throw myself off a cliff.
“Oh, stop,” I hiss back under my breath. “How can you not expect me to savour this?”
Just don’t.
I huff. I think I could grow to really like Alfie. He seems safe.
No.
“I’m just saying.”
Don’t.
“Yeah, yeah, not part of the plan.”
There’s no harm in fantasising about these things, though, right?
I scurry back to Caden’s bedroom and snuggle down onto the floor, one blanket I’d found in Caden’s armoire arranged beneath me and another wrapped around my legs.
With shaky hands, I undo the packet and my mouth falls open.
Chocolate. Sugar. Goodness. The one thing Lewis always brought me while I was locked up in the cell.
I bring the first biscuit to my mouth.
A little drop of heaven in the pit of Hell.