Chapter 38 #2
Whenever women ask their partners that on TV or in movies, they always get a romantic answer.
But a guy can have romantic thoughts all day, and then right as he’s thinking something stupid, like ‘Why’s that treble clef-looking thing called an ampersand?
’ he gets asked that question. So, in that scenario, do you say the weird thing or pull out something better you were thinking earlier?
I wanna know both. Her nose crinkled in an adorable, teasing grin. So now you have to spill what were you thinking earlier.
My thought of her writhing in pleasure beneath me on the limo leather while my tongue savored the sweet taste of her blood rushed forward, but I shut it down hard, heartrate spiking to eleven as I gauged her expression. I didn’t think it had gotten through my barrier.
Swallowing hard, I went to something more human.
I was thinking that I didn’t know what love was back in college, with the vamp girl I told you about.
I thought coddling was care, and lust was devotion, and pity was compassion.
When she treated me like a helpless kid and acted like parties with her friends were too much for me or insisted yet again that we stay inside just the two of us, I thought it meant she felt protective.
I reached to take up her hand, and she gave it willingly, a flush high on her cheeks like every woman any knight ever put on a pedestal.
But even though the Marchand coven would have to rip me to pieces to lay one finger on you, not once have I ever pitied you or wanted to lock you away from everything and everyone but me.
You’re the farthest thing from helpless, and all I want for you is to be happy.
To go and do whatever you want, and I’ll lay myself down on whatever obstacle is in your way, so you can use me like a bridge to get there, if you need.
She drew a shaky breath, eyes glossed with unshed tears.
My own throat tightened, and I was glad I didn’t have to use my voice to say, Now that I’ve met you, I think that’s what it means to protect someone you love. To give yourself, not take from them.
Snippets of her thoughts rushed at me. Love me? Did… loves me? How am I…? She shut her eyes and breathed hard, and I hung there in limbo, clinging to the fact that she didn’t let go of my hand.
“Seb,” she murmured, voice cracking. A small smile curled her lips, and in my head she said, I don’t know if I can be everything you deserve. I don’t even know if I can stay in this town or make this thing with all of you work or…
I moved my rolling chair around the desk so I could bring her hand to my lips. Seren, I didn’t say any of that to put pressure on you. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But trust me, I want you just as you are. You don’t have to be or do anything else.
“Seb!” She flew into my arms, her own wrapping around my neck as my office chair leaned back toward its tipping point. Her knees squeezed around my legs, and when her mouth crashed with mine, I curled my fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss until I was dizzy.
A light tap on the door broke us apart in a hurry. It sidled open a small fraction just as Serenity flopped back into her own chair. My mom gingerly poked her head round, sporting her usual sunbeam smile. “Hello, you two. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No,” I panted as Serenity tried to smooth her mussed hair.
She slipped a circular tin through the crack in the door. “I brought your favorite ginger cookies, hon. Want to come get them so you two can get back to work?” She gave an exaggerated wink, clearly overjoyed at how Serenity and I were getting along.
I rose sharply, opening the door all the way to hug her. “Mom, come in, come sit down. Can I get you coffee, tea, some water? Orange juice?”
“No thanks, dear.” She opened the tin, stuffed to the brim in dark cookies. “I thought you might like some sweets at your love loft.” She winked again, and I had to groan, “Mom,” on principle.
But she just waggled the tin, and I didn’t need any persuading, grabbing two. Serenity was slower to partake, and I reached out for her thoughts as she turned a cookie over in her hands.
The sharp ginger smell brought back bittersweet memories of baking with her own mom before her life had turned to shit. My first mouthful went dry and tasteless on my tongue as her sorrow washed over me.
“What’s wrong, dear, you don’t like them?” My mom had clearly clocked her melancholy stare too.
“Oh no, they look perfect, thank you so much. I don’t think they’ll last long in Hunter’s loft, for sure. It’s nothing, really.”
She gave Serenity one of those smiles that only older women could give. As if her intuition had worked effortlessly to decipher her inner feelings. “What’s really wrong, dear?”
You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable.
She cast me a sidelong smile and told my mother, “Oh, just the cookies, you know. The smell especially, reminds me of before New Nebraska, baking with my mom.”
I think maybe I’ve avoided answering questions like that for too long, she told me.
Beneath the desk, I patted her knee. “What was she like, your mom?”
Her eyes lit up, and as we talked more about her mother’s art and her father’s curated adventures for her in the woods behind their house, they started to sparkle.
But the glow dimmed when she reached the point of their sudden passing, and her elderly grandmother’s inability to care for her, due to dementia.
Dagger had done a check to find her very recently, and she’d not surprisingly been gone for several years.
So, Serenity had no family alive that she knew of.
My mom reached over and clasped her hand, squeezing affectionately. Looking at me, she said with slightly teary eyes, “Well, you’ve got family here now.”
We chatted for another few minutes about the usual niceties, checking in with each other, chatting about new program ideas for the shelter, and then my mom said she’d not distract us from our work anymore and left.
We promised to have dinner with her and all the guys soon.
Serenity remarked that it was always nice to have fellow humans to talk to, especially other females.
Apparently, she’d made a friend at the funeral reception too.
Someone named Ceci who, it turned out to Serenity’s delight, was also going to the charity ball.
I was thrilled she’d made another friend in town. She unfortunately didn’t have many options at work, what with Monique lording over the office.
Speak of the devil… On my bathroom break she crossed my path in the hall with her head down, flicking through a pad of notes, and almost whacked me with her ample chest.
“Oh, excuse me, sorry,” I mumbled, wanting minimal conversation with the ice queen.
She lifted her nose. “My fault. I tend to miss people who are shorter. I really must stop wearing high heels.” She swung her bangled wrist forward and gave a false laugh.
I seethed beneath a smile. “Well, you’re lucky that wasn’t Mr. Harding you almost knocked into. It could have been nasty. Perhaps save the reading for when you’re standing still?”
Her fingernails frosted over but her face remained calm. “Hmm. Anyway, I’d better crack on. Get all my reports written before the Annual Charity Ball.” She primped her hair and hit me with a gloating grin. “You’d probably love it. It is a divine night. Don’t worry though, I’ll take photos.”
“How kind. But there’s really no need. I’ll be going there with Serenity and all her other guys.”
“Her other guys? Wha—”
“You know what I’m talking about, it isn’t so strange in New Nebraska,” I said, as if explaining to a simpleton.
“You should give it a go. I’m sure you could have the pick of anyone here at Midas.
Well, except the ‘blind or gay’ ones like me, right?
Oh, and Mr. Harding. He’ll be going with us.
” God, I was being silly, hitting her where it might hurt. But she deserved it.
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised high, and she reeled back, damn near aghast. “But, how? He, you—well that’s interesting.”
“He’s an interesting guy.”
Her taut smile was more like a sneer. “Yes, well, he does take up with some of the gold diggers that throw themselves at him, so I’ve heard. Not like my date.”
“Anyone famous?” I wasn’t sure it was smart to taunt the ice queen. But there was no date more famous in New Nebraska than Bryce, and I knew it would piss her off that she couldn’t top it.
“No, but he will be.” Her irises glazed over with ice and frosted breath chilled my cheeks. “Mark my words, he will be.”