Chapter 30 Tash
Tash
The last slice of bundt cake had vanished half an hour ago, but nobody wanted to be the first to call it. Holiday music trailed in from the living room, low enough that I couldn't make out the lyrics. Just the hint of bells and nostalgia, looping around the edges of the big Meyer house.
I caught my own reflection in the hallway mirror and nearly laughed.
My cheeks were a little too pink, thanks to Maeve's drinks and the cheap wine I hadn't known how to refuse.
Not that I'd really wanted to. The dragon-flower brooch Chance gave me for Christmas blazed hot red and gold at my collarbone, more alive than any skin I'd owned in years. I touched it for luck.
The twins and Beth's kids were probably dancing the night away back at the cabin, but I didn't stress about it. Not with Mere and Fifi in charge, and not with the way my body hummed from the wine and whatever was happening in this room.
Gerty was the first to come up for air. She set her empty glass on the sideboard, smirked, and said, "I'm calling it. If I eat another truffle, I'll explode."
Maeve waved her off with a cookie. "Nonsense. You've only made a dent in the dessert tray."
Beth groaned. "No more. Seriously, you have to roll me to the car."
Chance shrugged from his spot at the window. He looked dangerously calm. "Or you could stay till sunrise. There's enough food to survive a siege."
Beth shot him a "don't you dare" look, but the laughter in her eyes made it clear she was just as gone on the night as I was.
Livia stood nearby, in the dining room archway, immaculate as ever, not a hair out of place. She'd been nursing the same glass of ginger ale since dinner, and if she was bored, the world would never know it. Instead, she pulled out her phone for what had to be the twentieth time tonight.
A name flashed across her phone screen. Amy. She pocketed the phone so fast you'd think it was radioactive. Not that it was any of my business who kept her so busy on her phone, but I was very nosy.
The raw gossip hound in me perked up, but Livia's poker face didn't crack.
She just turned to Beth. "Shall I drive you all home?
I'm the only one here who won't be pulled over tonight.
I don't drink." Dragons' metabolisms made it nearly pointless to drink, unless they downed extremely strong liquors in quick succession.
Beth wobbled upright, arms full of purse, cardigan, and leftover cookies because nobody left the Meyer house empty-handed.
She staggered over and hugged me so hard that my brooch nearly stabbed her cheek.
"I'm heading back to your place," she whispered.
"Those monsters better all be in bed, but I'm not holding my breath. "
I grinned. "Make a lot of noise going in, and they'll all scramble to bed to make you think they've been asleep for hours."
She gave a tired, watery laugh. "That's why you're my people."
Gerty sidled up next, pulling me into a one-armed hug. She aimed the look at me, all teeth and warning. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
I raised my brow. "That's a hell of a short list, Gerty."
She wagged her finger. "Yeah, but make him work for it. He's got the endurance, but do you have the stamina, that's the question."
If I could've lit up brighter than the brooch, I would've.
Our motley crew moved toward the door, getting their coats and platters of leftovers as Livia organized everyone and herded them toward her car.
Chance held the door. "Text when you get home," he told them all.
We spilled out onto the porch. The cold slap of air sucked away the last haze of wine, but not my buzz. The world outside was pure mountain New Year's. Dark velvet sky, pinpricks of stars, and Laurel Gap's main strip glowing in the distance like a string of paper lanterns.
Maeve hovered at the top step, arms crossed against the chill. "Xavier said to pass along an update. I completely forgot until now. Still no word on the guys who jumped you. He's gone underground. Hasn't been at any of the SkyArc job sites or anything."
Chance squeezed my arm. "I was going to tell you the same tomorrow. Xavier updated me as well." He gave Maeve a sad smile. "It's all I can do not to go after them myself." Lowering his voice, he added, "All I can do to keep Caden contained."
Livia herded the group down the walk, high heels digging into the frosty yard. She didn't bother looking back, just tossed over her shoulder, "I do wish Damon and Evan could've shown. Maybe next year, if the schedules line up and the weather doesn't conspire."
Maeve gave a low whistle. "You mean if Damon isn't chasing tail in Vegas, and Evan isn't halfway up a volcano in Peru."
Chance tucked his hands in his pockets and watched the parade down the driveway, not saying a word. But the heat coming off him was enough to set every nerve I had to full alert.
The car doors slammed, one after another. I waved, ready for them to be gone.
I had something on my mind, and nothing was deterring me.
Livia started the engine and the headlights swept over the porch. She waited until everyone was buckled, then backed out.
The taillights vanished down the bend. The world stilled.
We walked in and Chance closed the door. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
I stood in the length of the hallway, shivering, not from cold but from too many possibilities. The wine made my limbs loose, skin hypersensitive, the jewelry burning at my collarbone like a dare.
Chance watched me from across the entryway. Not the polite kind of watch, either. The kind that stripped every layer I'd tried to build.
I tried to act casual, but every inch of me pulsed. I hadn't let myself want him this bad in years. Not since the desperate night at my rental, before everything changed.
This was different. This time it was the long version. This time, there was no desperation, no rush.
He bridged the distance in three steps and cupped my face, thumbs tracing heat into my jaw. He angled my chin up, and for a microsecond, all I saw was the reflection of myself in his eyes.
"Hi," he whispered.
I barely managed "hey" before he kissed me.
No patience, no slow build. Just raw hunger. Weeks of tension and hope and terror and trying not to ruin a good thing all crammed into a single collision. His mouth was soft, then hard, then soft again. He swallowed every sound I made.
I clung to his shirt. My legs went cottony, then boneless.
He backed me up, hands never leaving my cheeks, and the world blurred. I managed a laugh. I was dizzy, a little drunk, but not enough that he should feel like he was taking advantage of me. Just enough to make me lose some of my embarrassment.
His lips trailed down my neck, then lower. He found the brooch, pressed his mouth to the skin just above it.
"You like it," he whispered.
I nodded into the air. "Of course I do. It's the best thing anyone's ever given me."
He took the words and devoured them. I lost track of how many times we kissed before my brain caught up and he half-lifted me up the bottom stair.
"Been a long time," I admitted, breath jagged. It felt like years since the quickie at my house instead of a few short weeks.
"Too fucking long," he growled.
We tumbled up the steps, hands threaded together, bodies crashing so often we nearly missed the landing.
We made it.
He spun me into the wall, braced one hand against the plaster, and kissed me until my back arched.
I returned every ounce of it. I wanted to crawl into his skin. I wanted to never let go.
He found the hem of my shirt and yanked it loose from my pants. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, drowning in the heat of him.
I laughed again, high on the thrill of letting go.
He scooped me up, bridal-style, as if I weighed nothing. My head spun.
We crashed into the bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the light. The glow from the hallway poured in, enough to pick out the hunger in his expression as he sat me on the bed and pinned me there with his gaze.
Neither of us spoke. There was nothing left to say.
He met my eyes, searching, as if he wanted to memorize every second. His hands framed my face again, and this time the kiss was slow. Nothing desperate or wild, but honest and inevitable. Everything I'd needed since the day I met him.
The bed creaked and shifted under us. His shirt went flying, and I pulled at his waistband, shoving his jeans down his hips, so desperate to get at the skin underneath that I nearly ripped the button clean off.
He didn't care. Not even a little.
The heat from his body rolled over me. I could barely catch my breath, the wine and the need and the memory of that first, messy night all snarled together.
My sweater went across the room with his shirt. The brooch clanged onto the floor, but I barely heard it.
I was already half-naked, and he made a hungry sound that told me exactly where this was going.
He crowded in, caging me down. The weight of him pressed my spine into the mattress, but I loved it.
The power in his arms, the burn of his eyes.
Everything about him said "mine" in a way that made my whole body shake.
He kissed me hard, teeth catching at my bottom lip, then trailed his mouth down, down, past my collarbone.
He paused at the line of my bra, reaching around and unhooking it with a flick that probably took years to perfect, but in the moment I was glad he'd had the practice. My breasts spilled into his hands and he groaned, a deep, almost dragon sound, like I was the last treat in the universe.
His mouth landed on my nipple, hot and wet. The sensation buckled my knees, even though I was flat on my back. He sucked once, then bit, not gently, just enough to zing pleasure through my ribs.
I gasped and arched up shamelessly. I didn't care. I wanted everything.
He kissed lower, mapping a trail down my stomach with lips and tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing.