Chapter Eleven
Dorian
When I awaken again, sunlight streams from the curtains, and Mira is once again idling on the windowsill. Yawning, I say, “That’s five, I think.”
“What’s five?” she questions, her tone drowsy and tired.
“Five times you’ve disobeyed me. Five punishments. First was when you took the gun from the briefcase, the rest were littered throughout the night.”
“You going to beat me for my disobedience?” her tone is a blend of resignation and sardonic bemusement.
“Not my style. I’ve already told you what is my style.” Her breath catches as she throws me a startled glance, then shakes her head. A flush paints her cheeks, though, so I think my little empath might be intrigued by the idea.
“And what, exactly, have I done to earn these five punishments?” She releases a laugh, shaking her head. “If you think that orgasms are synonymous with punishments, I’m surprised you don’t have more women chasing you down.”
“There are plenty who have tried to chase me,” I say dismissively.
She’s the only one that I would gladly let catch me, though instead I’m the one trying to catch her.
I suppose it could be worse; I’m finding that she is delightful prey to hunt.
“And trust me, pretty girl, pleasure can be much more agonizing than pain. As for your punishments…” I hold up a hand, ticking off a finger for each item.
“Stealing my gun. Lying to me about your past. Refusing to help me with my bullet—I had to pay fifty grand to that goddamn doctor. Refusing to come up to my room. Getting out of bed when I told you not to.”
Her lips twist. “You know those are total bullshit, right? Seamus’s gun jammed, so of course my reflexes kicked in.
I did not lie about my past, I simply didn’t see the need to take a stroll down memory lane with strangers who get off on threatening to kill me.
You should be glad I refused to help with your bullet, otherwise I might’ve…
accidentally sliced through an artery. I didn’t refuse to come up to your room, I was resistant to it because you left me to Connor’s tantrum.
I got out of bed because you tried to wrap yourself around me like a fucking octopus an hour before dawn, and I was not having that. ”
I blink slowly. “I think you just got yourself a number six on that list—refusing to let me touch you. Come to think of it, you did the same during your midnight laze on the window, so wouldn’t that be seven?”
“You’re being ridiculous. All of those things were perfectly reasonable and well within my rights to do.
I am a human being with my own thoughts and sentiments, I am not going to automatically bend to your will whenever you feel like exercising it.
I got through life long before you came into my world, I will get back to it once this miserable week is through, if I make it out alive. ”
“About that,” I say casually, “timeline’s been extended.”
Mira stiffens, and the flush in her cheeks is replaced by a paleness that I dislike. Is being here really that horrible?
I try to consider things from her point of view.
I chased her down in a forest when I thought she’d seen something—which she hadn’t—and Connor outright talked about killing her while I pinned her down.
One of her shoulders was dislocated at the time; regardless of her high pain tolerance, that shit hurts. Then, she was carted here.
The following night, she tried to do something nice for the residents of this house, and that was interrupted by a shootout, which would be traumatizing for most people.
Instead of sitting back, she pulled on her big girl panties and helped, and her repayment for that was once again being threatened by Connor.
I think back to the way her gaze turned toward me, wide-eyed and panicked, and the way I shook my head because the circumstances were phenomenally suspicious.
Her eyes shuttered after that, and she drew inwards.
She’s a lot more measured now; the words that come from her lips carefully selected, replacing the strange but adorable word vomit she’s previously spewed.
The nicest thing I’ve done for her is promise not to let Connor kill her, then sit back while he threatened to do just that.
Woo her, Sergei said. Spoil her. I have no idea where I should start, but I want to try.
I think Mira could be susceptible to material gifts, though they’d have to be meaningful and carefully selected.
Besides, I think doing things for her, some kind of acts of service, would land with greater impact.
“What do you mean, the timeline’s been extended?” she questions in a horrified whisper.
I release a long breath. “You’re going to be our guest for a bit longer. We have to report all dealings to our boss; last night’s clusterfuck report included your surprising skillset. My superior wants me to keep you around longer. I respect and fear my boss enough to obey.”
A swallow works its way down her delicate throat. “For how long?”
“I’m not sure,” I hedge. How long would it take for her to accept my claim? A few weeks? A few months? “Potentially for the rest of the semester.”
“No.” Mira stands from the windowsill, shaking her head. “No, it’s only October. That is unacceptable—”
“It’s not optional,” I tell her. “Believe me, this truly is for your safety. But we can set ground rules, things that might make you more comfortable. I don’t want you to be miserable, Mira, I’d like it a lot more if you were happy.”
“Then let me go home!” she snaps.
“You’re welcome to go to dorms whenever you want, but you’ll be staying here in the interim.”
“But… I have a life!”
“I’ll get you to all your classes.”
“I have my pack and skulk—”
Jesus Christ, the animals again. “We can go see them.”
“I have a job on weekends!”
“You don’t have to quit, you’re good to keep working there. No conflicts.”
“You live with two psychopaths! I don’t want to live with them—they’re fucking terrifying!”
“Connor won’t touch you. Believe it or not, you earned his respect last night—you might find he treats you a bit differently now.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Yeah, Dorian, I felt immensely respected when he tore my shirt in half while talking about killing me.”
Fair enough. “As for Seamus, he’s harmless unless you give him a reason to be harmful, which you haven’t. He likes you, maybe a bit too much. He’ll play nice.”
She releases a low growl, once again reminding me of a kitten. “I don’t have any of my clothes here, or books, or—”
“Pack them after school. I’ll help you take them here.”
Mira’s silent for a few moments, shaking her head from side to side. Finally, she says, “I want my own room if I have to live here.”
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I don’t feel like carrying you from a different room to this one every night. I could, but I’d rather have you here in the first place.”
A shrill laugh escapes her. “If you think I will ever willingly let you touch me after this—”
“You will,” I cut her off. “You might hate yourself for it. You might hate me for it, but you will.”
Her lips purse. She shakes her head, turning back to the window. “Fuck. Off.”
I check the time on my phone, deciding to let that topic lie for now. “It’s still early. We have time for breakfast here, or we can go out to get something.”
“I’m not hungry. I need to go to my dorm room and pack all my shit up.” A shrill laugh escapes her. “And find a way to explain to my roommates why I’m suddenly moving out.”
I’m tempted to fuck the attitude out of her.
I’m tempted to say many things in reprimand, or to tell her exactly what her new reality is going to be.
Instead, I approach her slowly, cupping her face in my hand and turning her to look at me.
“It won’t be as bad as you’re imagining. ” Being mine has many benefits.
“I’m going to shower,” she announces. “Can I at least drive to campus, or will I need to rely on you to chauffeur me around?”
“Your car is a piece of shit that’s not safe in the cold weather,” I say bluntly. “I’m amazed it managed to get you up and down mountains several times; it’s a joke.”
“You are such a prick,” she hisses. “Not all of us have 50 grand to drop on a bullet removal, or 100 grand for a car.”
“120,” I correct mildly. “I can get you a new one.” She’d look good behind the wheel of a sleek Mercedes.
She snorts. “I’m not going to be a kept woman, and I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Mira,” I say slowly, trying to redirect. “I’m sorry I let Connor threaten you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t intervene. I was bleeding and in pain and the scene was pretty suspicious. It won’t ever happen again. I will protect you.”
She pauses. For a moment, her eyes soften. Something approaching hope sparks in them, and it causes hope to rise within me in return. Then, her eyes shutter again, and Mira ducks out of my hold.
“Nobody can protect me,” she says. “Nobody can promise to protect anyone. There are scores of unseen variables that people don’t actually consider before making false promises. I’ll go on protecting myself. Just try not to make that too difficult for me.”
She turns and strides into the bathroom without saying anything else.
I grit my teeth, gazing at the ceiling. I want to follow her and try to have an actual conversation, but that won’t help right now.
I’m injured; she’s functioning on no sleep.
We can circle back to this later, when both of us are in a better state of mind.
First, I need to figure out how the fuck I’m going to move forward with her.
I’m pouring myself a cup of coffee downstairs when Seamus strolls into the room, shirtless, his chest glistening from his morning jog. He gives me a nod, setting about fixing himself a cup. He leans against the counter across from me while I stir my coffee, staring into the liquid blankly.
“How’s the shoulder?” he asks.
“Better,” I mumble. “Doesn’t hurt as much. The doctor might be overcharging by about 48k, but he’s damn good.”
“Glad to hear it.” Seamus pauses to sip his coffee. “So,” he says after a beat. “Mira.”
“I will rip your balls off if you try to make a move on her,” I say, looking up.
Seamus rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about that one, mate. I get it; she’s yours. Even if I didn’t get it before, I certainly get it now—you’ve got dibs and you won’t share.” He sips his coffee. “Thing is, you need to actually make her your girl, and you have no experience doing that.”
“I’ve fucked plenty of women,” I say flatly.
“And how many have you dated?” Seamus questions. “Right, none. I’ve fucked more women than I can count and have dated several of them. Short flings, but still. I understand the art of wooing. You don’t, because you’ve never had to. So.” He takes another sip. “You want my help?”
“No.”
“Excellent, you’re getting it anyways. Mira’s not typical, which means the usual shit of buying her nice, random things won’t work. She’s tuned into energies.”
“You make it sound like magic,” I mutter.
Seamus shakes his head. “Nothing magical about it, mate. There are people in this world who can feel things that the rest of us can’t.
You and me, we can sense it if someone’s deathly scared or dangerously angry.
It’s like a…” he pauses to look for the word.
“Like a vibration in the air, almost a frequency. It’s palpable, right? ”
I consider that for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Right. There are people who don’t just feel those intense vibrations, they feel all of it. Joy. Sadness. Happiness. Misery. Anxiety—everything.”
I feel my brows furrow. “How do you know all this?”
“Had an aunt who was quirky. She could always, always tell what someone was feeling. She knew your secrets before you did. Scared the fuck out of my family, but I was always fascinated with her, and she was kind enough to explain things to me.”
I feel my lips twist. “Okay.”
He nods. “Okay. So, you and I feel the energies of extreme negative emotions in the air. People who are much rarer, like your girl, feel all of it. It’s overwhelming.
It never ends. My aunt described it as a pool of tar she was forever cursed to wade through.
” His eyes slide away. “She killed herself a few years ago.”
Jesus. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You’ll recover. She’s not the first or the last. Your girl seems stable, and she has her coping skills, but keep in mind that she is naturally more vulnerable to stress than you are.
Not just her stress, but everyone’s. She’s vulnerable to a whole spectrum of emotions, but the bad ones—no matter how subtle—will always land the hardest. So, to a person like that, what do you think would be a meaningful gift? ”
I blink slowly. “A sabbatical in a monastery?”
“Fucking Christ, no. Nature, idiot. Things surrounding nature. Aunt loved to be out in the mountains; your girl clearly also likes the mountains. That’s not because they’re pretty, it’s because of the energy found there.
Even hardened fucks like us know the soothing vibes that come from nature, yeah? ”
I try to follow along as best as I can. “Yeah.”
“So, natural things. Clothes and cars and jewelry are all good and fine, but not deeply meaningful. Girl like that? Research the crystals known to be calming. Better yet, ask her which one she likes or uses—I’ll bet you ten grand she has her own collection.
Get her a necklace with those. Support her when she wants to go see her wolf or fox pack or whatever.
Take her on hikes. And fuck her as often as you can; I gather there are few better ways to release one’s energies. ”
I mentally make a note to research what he’s talking about, and gently bring it up with Mira. “I don’t think she wants me to touch her.”
“Show her why she should.”
Light footsteps sound from the staircase. Mira’s. Connor’s footfalls are far heavier and closer to stomps. She appears in the doorway to the kitchen a moment later.
“Morning, love,” Seamus greets.
“Brit,” she replies with a nod, then turns to look at me. “I need to go to my dorm room.”
I incline my head. “I’ll take you. You want coffee?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll grab some in my room. What should my expected schedule be now that I’m an indefinite captive? Will you be accompanying me everywhere?”
“Not captive, guest,” Seamus says. “A most lovely guest. Didn’t have time to properly praise you, but the dinner you made last night was wonderful before things went tits up.”
Mira eyes him. “Get fucked, Brit.”
Seamus chuckles. “Good to see you too, love.” He nods at me. “Remember what we talked about.”