Chapter Fifteen
I stand on the sidewalk, staring at my new home with my mouth open. I’m not sure if I’m imagining things with how exhausted I am from yesterday’s events and how long this day has been trying to ‘find’ the person who killed Harold.
I never met the man who owned the jewelry store, but apparently, he was very beloved in this town. Jake had grown up knowing Harold his entire life, so he is taking it hard and is on a mission to find who killed the defenseless man.
The wind blows into my eyes, reminding me to go inside and get out of this weather. It’s wet, cold, and dark minus the glow of the street lamp. The light is enough to show my yard covered in roots. They are even creeping up on the side of the house.
The nightshade flowers bloom, adding a touch of color. The roots form an arch down the pathway, and there are small glowing lights now that I don’t remember ever seeing on any of his roots.
I walk forward, needing to make a pot of coffee to get through the next few hours. I need to talk to Shade. I haven’t seen him since the crime scene.
In my hand, I hold the small plant he left for me on my car, embracing it against my chest because it’s from him.
Traveling under the archway, I lift my hand to touch the light, realizing it’s the lure light that illuminates my insides when he is fucking me. Paired with the flower blooming, there’s an ethereal beauty, like I’m walking under hundreds of stars.
When I open the front door, I expect to see Shade here, but the house is empty. I frown, doubt creeping in, and wonder if he was a figment of my imagination after all.
The couch is still snapped in half, bringing a smile to my face, knowing that anything that is broken is because of him.
Except me. All these years of feeling so different, for craving what Shade could give to me.
I stare at the pictures on the wall from the case files, knowing I need to take them down, but I’m not sure that I want to. Yet. They seem to be like trophies, in a way. I’m not ready to part with them yet.
Checking the time on my phone, I blow out a breath when I see the clock has just struck midnight.
I’m tired, but I’m starving, and decide while I wait, I’ll make us Bandeja Paisa.
It’s one of my favorite comfort dishes when I have a lot on my mind.
I grew up with my mamita cooking it. It’s a traditional Colombian dish with Colombian Chorizo, blood sausage, sweet plantains, shredded beef, arepa—similar to a tortilla—eggs, rice, beans, and avocado.
Thanks to Shade stocking my fridge, I have everything I need to make it. While cooking the meat, I get started on the plantain and brew a small pot of coffee while everything is cooking. My eyes are so heavy, but my stomach is grumbling, and I won’t be able to sleep without eating.
I chop the avocado, then pour myself half a cup of coffee. Just enough to keep me from face-planting in my food. I pour in a dash of creamer, give it a quick stir, and take a sip.
“Mmm,” I hum, closing my eyes as the warm drink awakens my soul a bit. “That’s the stuff.” I tug my badge from my neck and drop it on the table, the gold shining against the dining room light.
I don’t feel like I deserve the label of detective, considering the series of events.
“I’d be jealous of that coffee if I didn’t know you were consuming me too.”
The sound of Shade’s voice has me lifting my eyes from the swirls of coffee in my mug to him standing in the living room like an intruder hiding in the shadows.
“Shade!” I set my coffee down and run to him, flipping on the light so I can see him. I gasp when I do. He has black dried blood on his body. “Oh my god! What happened? Are you okay?” I skim my hands down his torso, touching every wound that is healed over, but I can still see the shadow of a hole.
He hisses.
“Sorry. Still healing. I’ll be fine in another few minutes,” his booming voice rumbles.
“How many times did they shoot you!” Tears are in my eyes, counting so many bullet holes, that I lose count and have to start over.
“Until the clip emptied. I’m okay. It takes more for me to die, apparently.” He makes an odd face, then plucks a crushed bullet shell from his mouth.
I don’t know why, but something about that has my breath catching, and my thighs pressing together.
Shade inhales, his pierced nostrils flaring. “You like me getting shot, Little Dream?”
“What?” Entranced by the bullet he is holding, a small spike of fear jumps in my heart from being caught.
My hands are pressed against his stomach, his warmth soothing the chill in my palms. His skin is rough, thick, similar to leather, maybe—or a rhino.
Small goosebumps appear on his tough flesh when I begin to track the black veins, the roots, amazed at how different he is.
“No, no. You took the bullet from your mouth, and something about that,” I nibble my bottom lip. “It was hot.”
He growls, somehow his onyx eyes darkening further if that is possible. “Why?”
My heart rate kicks up, and I instinctively take a step back. He doesn’t allow the distance to be between us. “I-I don’t know.” My knees hit the edge of the couch cushions, and a part of me wants to vanish into it or lie down so Shade can do whatever he fucking wants, however he wants. To me.
His roots wrap around my waist. “I think you dooo,” his creature controls his voice, the one that slips inside my mind to create my worst fear. “But you might burn the house down if you do.”
I gasp, running to the kitchen and turning the oven off. Looks like I got here just in time. Thankfully, Shade has those paranormal senses.
“You need to eat before I rip you to pieces tonight. You’ll need the energy to help you heal.”
“Oh?” I gulp while I make our plates.
A shadow falls behind me, completely covering the light and casting me into darkness.
“I’ve only barely begun to explore you,” he says, his arms wrapping around my waist with a gentle caress I didn’t know he could possess, given his natural strength.
I blow out a breath to calm my nerves. My hand shakes as it scoops the rice onto the plates. There’s no way he can’t hear the wild beat of my heart racing from his nearness.
“I can’t focus when you’re so close to me,” I admit, needing a certain amount of space.
My hands are full with our plates as he turns me around, caging me in by placing his arms on either side of me. Shade bends down, growling, the inky pools of his eyes somehow filled with so much lust, it’s hard for me to catch my breath.
“Being close to you is the only thing that tames me.” He leans in, his lips inches away from mine. “I’m not sure I like being tamed, Lulaaa.”
I swallow hard, gasping when I hear the creature barely contained.
“I…I…well…you…” I stutter, and his lips tick to the left to form a sly grin. “I made my favorite dinner. Bandeja Paisa.” I thrust the plate out for him to take to try to put a little space between us because I’m ready to starve, take him to bed, and let him have his wicked nightmare way with me.
Shade’s brows furrow as he looks down, the edge of the plate against his stomach. He takes a step back and, with awkward hands, he holds the dish, just…staring.
“You don’t have to eat it.” I feel ridiculous. Of course he doesn’t want it. “You don’t eat food, right? I can save it. It can be my leftovers.” I spin around, not wanting him to see the embarrassment on my face. Muttering under my breath, “Eres tan tonta.”
You’re so dumb.
Why would I cook food when he clearly only eats people’s fear and my blood?
“What did you just say?”
I spin around, shocked by how small and soft his voice is. I’ve never heard him speak like that. He’s still staring at all the food piled onto his plate.
“I called myself dumb for cooking because you don’t—”
One moment, he is leaning against the dining room table, and in the next, he is standing in front of me, anger pinching his features while he presses his giant body against mine.
“Don’t ever speak about yourself that way or I will give you nightmares for your entire fucking life, Lulaaa,” he warns, his cock hard and pressing against me through his black jeans. “I love that you cooked for me. I was shocked.” He kisses my forehead, a tender moment I save in my mind.
Shade is far from sweet, but he has his moments.
“Why?”
He grabs his plate off the table. “The last person who cooked for me was my mother,” he admits on a deep breath, not bothering to take a seat since the chair will break under his weight. “You’re right. I don’t need to eat food. I eat you, instead.”
The way he is looking at me would have me melt in a puddle onto the floor if it wasn’t for me gripping the ledge of the countertop.
“But I can eat food. I just…haven’t. And I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since that night.”
“That was so long ago, Shade.”
He nods, picking up the fork that is way too small for his hand. It’s awkward, and I can tell he is struggling. The metal bends from his strength, eventually snapping in half, and sends the rice splatting to his plate.
He huffs, snarling, showing those sharp fangs that I miss in my neck, my thigh, just on my body in general.
“You’re more than welcome to feed from me, Shade,” I tell him, wanting him to know there is no pressure. “Every day. All of the time. Whenever you want.”
Those tormented eyes heat when they glance down at me. “As much as I love feeding from you. Your blood, your fears, they sate me in ways food never can, but you made this for me. I want to eat it.”
I snag our plates. “Come on. Let’s go to the living room. Follow me.”
“Why?”
“Don’t question me. I’ll get my gun,” I tease with a smile.
His hard cock strains his jeans, the length traveling down his leg, and I’m able to see the thick ridge of the crown pressing against the denim.
After food, I’m going to ride him. I want to feel his piercings inside me, his lure light illuminating my womb—I want it all.
“Sit,” I order him, as I take a seat on the broken sofa.
He grunts.