Chapter 24
twenty-four
-Serena-
Guilt? Is that what I’m supposed to feel?
Because I feel none. I guess it’s a relief.
Like when you’ve done the most impossible thing in your life.
Broke your ultimate boundaries. And still survived to tell the story.
At least that’s what I hope I’m doing—surviving.
Ten minutes ago, I went through a near-death experience because I swear I could surely see glimpses of the afterlife.
And I fucking relished in every second of it.
I’m still in Set‘s arms—not that he can move. Or maybe I even fainted on top of him. That’s how it feels right now, because I can’t move either. Not sure I even want to.
There’s a peace inside me that wasn’t here before—even though nothing about being with him resembles peace. And still, I feel safe. I feel like home, though I dread to think of the word. Like it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.
I really don’t want to get up, but I feel him twitching inside me again, and I’m pretty convinced that if I don’t go for the shower, he’ll start all over again.
And this time, something will snap inside me.
The man’s a machine. Not complaining though.
But I need him to go easy on me because I have a feeling he’s capable of way more damage than just tonight.
I draw in his scent a couple more times, trying to figure out how the hell we got here. But it’s useless fighting it.
All I know is, there’s no way back. Hasn’t been one for a while now. I just refused to accept it, even if it was something I secretly also wanted.
My head slowly lifts from the center of his chest. Where I shipwrecked a few minutes ago—maybe even more than a few minutes.
I can’t keep track of time anymore. But I don’t get far.
He leans in for a kiss, and it’s not something I can deny him.
This time not because of him, but because of my own will.
God, I love kissing him. And just so he could remind me of that, his tongue sneaks inside my mouth unhurriedly, like he’s savoring the taste of his victory.
He’s such a good kisser. He’s a good... everything. Unfortunately, everything includes killer. But I won’t go there now. I don’t think I want to go there anymore. Period.
“I… need… to… take… a… shower,” I say, trying to speak between his lips. I half expect him to mutter something specific to him like, “I want you filled with my cum.” But instead, he surprises me and just slowly breaks the kiss.
“I’ll help you wash,” he whispers, still clinging to our routine of joining me in the shower. At least my ovaries won’t ache from all that abstinence this time. Maybe just from all the sex.
He helps me off him, making sure his clothes hit the floor before we even reach the bathroom door. Mine got lost somewhere in the living room a long time ago anyway.
He lets the water run gently over us, its rhythm soothing after the storm we’ve just been through.
Yet he’s strangely calm. I want to believe I did that.
That my pussy tamed the beast. But I know better than to fool myself.
He’s up to something. There’s a devious glimmer in his eyes proving me so.
And still, my thoughts drift to somewhere else.
The way the water rolls over his tattoos.
The way the man in front of me is mine. The way he cares for me, protects me.
The fucking way he looks at me, leaves me unguarded in front of him.
He gently traces every inch of my body, and I can’t help myself but feel relieved that the torture of being so close to him without being able to touch is finally over.
It feels so good to know that I almost ask him to claim me again.
But I still want to be able to walk in the morning.
That’s highly unlikely if we have sex again tonight.
I look up at him, and I know he’s savoring this moment as well. The peace before the storm, probably. Because I feel it. Something is coming. I’ve just chosen to ignore it for the past few hours. Little do I know that the storm is already here. And Set’s the one unleashing it.
He wraps a soft bathrobe over me as soon as we’re done, and I still can’t get over how protective and thoughtful he is with me.
I’d bet no one else has ever had that privilege, and it makes me feel like straight damn royalty.
But then, of course, he breaks the spell, saying the words every woman—but me—wants to hear. “I have a present for you.”
You might think I’m insane for not getting excited about it, but Set is different. And even if sometimes a present means expensive jewelry, other times it means a corpse. Right now, I’m not ready for either.
I quiver at the thought and almost beg him to save it for the morning. But I know better. That’s now how Set works. He’s not the patient kind, how he cared to mention only a thousand times before.
I know I’m getting my present whether I like it or not.
He leads me back to the living room, where I sink into the couch because I have a feeling I might need to be sitting for this one. He looks strangely relaxed, maybe too relaxed. Like this is something practiced, and I’m about to get hit with a nuclear bomb.
“I have something to make this complete,” he says, with a certain tone that lets me know my punishment isn’t over yet, as he riffles through a closet for something. I really want to tell him it’s not necessary, but I know better; he’s not letting me off the hook.
As he turns to walk back into the living room, I realize whatever this present is, it has to be something small. I can’t lie, I’m relieved he’s not carrying a corpse—or a severed limb with him.
Wait—what if it’s a finger? The thought crosses my mind, but I try to chase it away before I jinx myself.
It’s jewelry. It has to be jewelry.
I try to convince myself—and somehow, by some power beyond me, I turn out to be right.
It’s just... not the kind of jewelry I was expecting.
Set takes a seat on the couch beside me, his eyes glowing like never before—like they’re not even from this world, and he’s something supernatural created by the gods themselves to subdue my body and bend my mind to his will.
I see him straightening his posture like this is something sacred, and then his palm opens. There’s a small black velvet box resting in it.
I freeze, and the déjà vu hits me like a slap. Nick—please, don’t let it be like that again.
I drift for a couple of seconds, absent from the place, and I don’t really know how to react.
Is this what I think it is? Because there’s no way I’m saying yes that fast.
Still, Set’s not the type to propose just because I gave him pussy—especially not after what I did to him. He’s on the path to forgiving me, but I’m nowhere near forgiven yet. Honestly, I’m still expecting something to blow up in my face any second now.
I feel off, like I’m living in another person‘s body, and the fear of what’s inside that box overwhelms me. “Set I—” I don’t go on because I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.
And he gives me just enough time to finish, but my lips won’t actually open to speak.
I just look at him for maybe a couple of minutes, like I’ve been struck by lightning.
And the bastard lets me stew—because he damn knows I’m boiling.
He looks at me like he’s expecting something.
But since he’s not down on one knee, I really hope this isn’t the same thing Nick once held.
Or worse, what if it is, but meant for someone else?
I’ve got a solid history to back that theory.
I realize I’m internally rambling, and everything’s only in my head, when he decides to break the silence.
“Are you going to open this, or do you want me to do it for you?” he asks, and relief washes over me because if it were an engagement ring, he’d be the one opening the box without even suggesting I’d do it.
I’m out of the woods. This should be easy. Earrings maybe. Something normal. “I’ll do it,” I say, a smile curling on my lips like a weight’s been lifted off my chest.
I take the box from his hands, realizing this must be expensive.
I’ve learned how to size-up quality at a glance—this isn’t some run-of-the-mill diamond store box.
The gold lock assures me of it. I’m guessing diamonds, and you know what they say diamonds are a girl's best friend. But I would never have guessed where they’re supposed to go.
I’m almost excited as I half-open the box because I see Set's eyes light up. This has to be something big.
I fully open the box. Yep—definitely a diamond. Two of them, actually. But I'm struggling to make sense of what I’m actually looking at. It’s a gold piece of jewelry with two beads at either end, each holding a diamond, joined by a curved barbell.
Is this some kind of ear piercing? Because no matter how long I stare at it, I can’t really figure it out.
I just notice the two large diamonds, each engraved with S.M.
Set’s initials. And as much as I want to hate that he thinks I’m some kind of cattle, he needs to brand. .. I kind of find it flattering.
But then I take another look, still trying to figure out exactly what this piece of jewelry is. “Where does this—” I don’t get to finish what I started because a cold chill skates down my spine. “Go?” I trail off, suddenly realizing this wasn’t designed for ears.
“Where do you think?” he asks, amusement bubbling in his voice.
I don’t respond, just stare at him like he’s from another planet or something.
His brows arch in satisfaction, waiting for me to answer, as usual, because he never lets me off the hook without an answer.
“My... my nipple?” I ask, and at this moment, honestly, I hope it goes there—because the alternative is unthinkable.