Chapter Fifteen #2
I’d killed Michael without any hesitation, and I’d thought she was going to be frightened of me. But she wasn’t, and that just solidified that she was meant for me.
Later in the afternoon I found her in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the pantry, frowning at the contents.
“Problem?” I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, inhaling the smell of her hair. Lilacs and cedar, a mixture of both our scents.
“I was going to cook you dinner. Something special. But the meat’s all frozen and this pantry is like a prepper’s wet dream.
” She leaned back into my chest. “Why is there so much freeze-dried food? And are those military rations from the sixties? I knew we should have grabbed more groceries from town.”
I chuckled against her, biting down gently on her neck. “I wasn’t exactly expecting guests up here.”
She patted my arms, bouncing on her feet slightly. “I have the best idea.”
An hour later, the kitchen was covered in flour. Seraphine claimed she knew how to make pasta from scratch and had roped me into helping her. But in reality, she had no clue what she was doing. Somehow, she’d managed to get more flour on her than in the bowl.
She held up her hands, biting her bottom lip. The dough was sticking to everything except where it was supposed to be.
“You were supposed to make a well in the center.” I chuckled as she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Here, like this.” I moved behind her, covering her hands with mine as we played with the dough. “See how the dough feels now?”
“Did I ever tell you how good you are with your hands?” she murmured, pushing her ass into my cock.
“You may have mentioned it. Focus, little lamb, or we’re never going to eat.”
“I am focused.” She twisted in my arms, her hands running up my chest, getting flour and dough all over my shirt. “Oops, guess you have to take that off now.”
She didn’t look the least bit sorry. Before I could respond, she reached up, rubbing flour on the tip of my nose. “Cute.” She grinned, mischief flashing in her eyes.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Her laugh turned into a shriek as I dipped my hand into the sticky dough and rubbed it across her cheek. What followed was pure warfare. By the time we called a truce, we were covered in flour, dough, and every other ingredient she had pulled out and hadn’t used.
Both of us were breathing hard from laughing so much. She lay on the floor with streaks of dough and flour all over her, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful. A part of me knew I didn’t deserve her laughs, her joy, but I would take it anyway.
“Is it weird that this feels normal?” She rolled to her side, propping her head up with her hand.
I leaned back against the kitchen cupboard, staring at the ceiling. “Nothing about any of this is normal, little lamb.”
“You know what I mean.” She sat up and crawled across the floor, climbing into my lap. Pulling down a dish towel from the counter, she wiped the flour from my face. My fingers dug into her hips at the tenderness in her strokes.
“It feels right. It’s our fucked-up version of normal,” I murmured, taking the towel from her and in one swift motion standing us both up. “Alright, new plan.”
A while later we sat at the table with our grilled cheese sandwiches. We talked about everything and nothing, from favorite foods and books to most underrated movies.
“OK, favorite bands?” she asked as she took a big bite of her sandwich.
“The classics. The Misfits, Social Distortion, Pink Floyd.” I took a sip of my wine. “What about you? Let me guess, NSYNC?”
Her hand froze halfway to her mouth. She scoffed, glaring at me. “Backstreet Boys, duh.”
I chuckled, grabbing for the other half of her sandwich. She slapped my hand and pulled her plate closer to her chest. “Favorite movie?” I asked.
“Labyrinth. I’ve seen it a million times.” Her cheeks flushed, as if she was embarrassed.
“I’ve watched that more times than I’d like to admit. My sister loved it.” I paused, then took another bite, realizing the memory didn’t hurt as much as it used to.
“Your sister had good taste,” she said softly.
I found myself smiling at the memory of Abby obsessing over the movie. “She was obsessed with the Goblin King.” My throat tightened slightly, but not with the usual sharp pain.
“Same.” Seraphine chuckled. “I dreamed about marrying him way too much.”
“Cyrus used to make fun of us for watching it. But I think he was just jealous that Abby didn’t want to include him.” My hand clenched involuntarily.
Seraphine’s face fell slightly, and I wanted to kick myself for ruining the moment.
I shook my head, tossing my food back onto the plate, no longer hungry. “OK, tell me more about Miss Frog Queen in high school.”
She groaned, covering her face with her hands.
We sat there and had normal conversations, like normal people eating dinner, almost forgetting that less than twenty-four hours ago I had killed someone and then fucked her senseless afterwards.
“What about your family?” I refilled our wine glasses and settled on the couch next to her.
She shrugged. “They’re complicated. My dad’s a high school football coach. My mom teaches history. Very traditional and structured. They never really understood the art thing.”
“They didn’t support you?”
“More like they tolerated it. After the attack, they wanted me to move back home so they could take care of me. They meant well, but… I needed to heal on my own terms. Not that I’ve been doing a good job of that.
” She laughed softly into her wine glass.
“I mean my job has helped me on so many levels, but I guess I never really processed everything that happened.”
Something about the way she talked had me searching her face. “You don’t enjoy it? Your work?”
“No, I do. I just… sometimes it’s a lot to handle emotionally, taking on other people’s pain when you don’t feel strong enough.
” She sighed, staring up at the ceiling.
“But it’s important work. I’m helping people deal with their pain and grief.
I do honestly love it. I just miss the times before, when I painted whatever I wanted. ”
“And what did you like painting before?” I felt greedy, needing to know every little detail about her.
Her face lit up, and she set her wine glass down. “Everything. Landscapes, portraits. I was obsessed with capturing joy, moments of pure happiness.” She waved her hands around.
“Tell me your favorite moment. Something you never forgot.” I dragged her in between my legs on the couch and began rubbing her shoulders.
“God, that feels good.” She relaxed into my arms, her fingers digging into my thighs.
“There was a couple at a fair once. They must have been in their eighties. They went from ride to ride, laughing hysterically like teenagers. He won her a stuffed bear at one of those shooting games. And her face… God, she was so ecstatic. They sat on a bench holding hands, watching the crowd, just looking so in love. I sketched them, trying to capture the moment perfectly.”
“What happened to it? The picture?”
“I gave it to them,” she said, a slight quiver in her voice. “They cried, which only made me cry. But it was the best moment. Just pure joy.” She leaned forward out of my grip and wiped her cheek. “It’s been a while since I’ve found a moment of joy like that for myself.”
She turned to me, her eyes glossy, but the biggest smile on her face. And I vowed then I would do anything in my power to keep her smiling, no matter what.
“OK, no more sad stuff. Stay right there.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then ran down the hall. A few minutes later she came back, holding something behind her so I couldn’t see.
“What are you up to, little lamb?” I arched my brow as she stood between my legs, her hands behind her back.
“Finding some joy.” She grinned and set the box down on the couch.
Truth, Trouble, or Sin.
I opened the lid, finding only one stack of cards in the box.
The Sin cards.
“I think I can help with that.” I stood, throwing her over my shoulder and grabbing the cards in one fluid motion.
She laughed and smacked my ass. “Where are we going?”
“To make you see stars, little lamb.”
Joy was fleeting. My obsession with Seraphine was violent and unholy. But every piece of me belonged to her.
And God help the man who tried to take her away from me.