Chapter 13
thirteen
NIALL
I ignored the knock at my studio door in the middle of the afternoon.
It was probably Larson. He knew I'd ignore him if I was in the middle of something. He'd either knock until I gave up on what I was doing, or he'd leave.
My hand moved over the canvas, sketching the image I hadn't been able to get out of my mind since I left Liv's house directly onto the fabric. I'd paint it later, but I preferred to draw it out before I started, so I had time to figure out exactly what I wanted to do.
It was an image of her sprawled out in bed, her hair a mess and her expression peaceful as she slept in one of my shirts.
She'd tried to hide that it was mine, but I'd noticed.
At the sound of buttons being pressed on the keypad that controlled my studio's lock, I went still.
Larson didn't know the code.
There was only one person who had ever known the code.
The door cracked open, and Liv's head appeared in the doorway. Her hand was over her eyes, and the sight of her messy, white-blonde hair was enough to make my chest fucking ache.
"It's just me, and I'm not looking. Don't worry about your privacy," she called out. "I have news, and a peace offering. I'll wait in my car until you're at a stopping point, but I'll probably barge in here if you don't show in thirty minutes."
My lips curved slightly.
Liv would never make it thirty minutes. Ten, tops.
She shut the door without giving me a chance to reply.
I finished the part of the piece I had been sketching, then walked to the exit. It took me a moment to steady myself before I went out to meet her.
Liv was sitting on the hood of her red Lamborghini with her legs crossed and her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She fiddled with a fidget spinner, looking more at ease than I'd seen her since I came back into her life.
Her loose, purple athletic shorts and bright red sports bra put most of her body on display. For once, I wasn't completely focused on the amount of her skin anyone who walked past would see.
"Who the fuck sold you their soul?" I asked, meeting her at the car and dragging my gaze over the swirling magical tattoo that covered her entire left leg.
"That's the news. Surprise." Her lips quirked upward in a smile. "You were right. I'm not Jonah's mate."
Of course she wasn't.
She was mine. I'd been saying that forever.
"What did he ask for? That's a fucking huge bargain." I lifted her leg, looking around the front and back to see how far the mark stretched. It seemed to go a little past her ankle, and I followed it up her thigh.
Maybe it shouldn't have bothered me, but I was having a difficult time coping with the fact that my female suddenly had a massive, swirling marking on her body that connected her soul to another man's.
"It's a long story. Kind of feels like I sold my soul to him, rather than the other way around, but I'll recover. The point is, I'm not fated to him. Can I at least get a congratulations or something?"
She pushed my hand away when I tried to pull the leg of her shorts up so I could find the end of the tattoo. The waistband went nearly to her belly button, so I couldn't see enough of her skin.
"Easy, tiger." She glanced up and down the street. "I can show you the mark if we go somewhere private, but there are people around. You get pissy when I strip in front of anyone other than you."
"My apartment's across the street."
"You finally bribed Old Man Wallace to leave?"
Old Man Wallace was what she'd called the grumpy male spellcaster who lived across the street from my studio. He was probably younger than we were, but he was a grouch. "I did."
"Wait." Liv opened the trunk of her car and grabbed a stack of canvases that had been wrapped the way I'd taught her to do it years ago, with paper, protection on the corners, and bubble wrap. Her wrapping was messy, but effective.
I took the large stack from her, knowing damn well that she was likely to drop them and break both herself and the paintings. "I don't think returning my paintings qualifies as a peace offering."
"Those are my paintings. I'm not returning them. And they aren't the peace offering."
The possessiveness in her tone nearly did me in. "Then why did you bring them back?"
"Reasons. And you aren't nearly enthusiastic enough about the fact that Jonah's not my mate," she said, leading me toward the apartment she had never been inside.
"I knew you weren't fated to him."
She typed the code into the door, smoothly adapting to the fact that I was still using the same password I always did. I'd never wanted to keep her out.
"You can't have known that," she said.
"You're fated to me." I grabbed the handle with my free hand, opening the door and waving her inside. "So yeah, I did."
The roll of her eyes made my lips curve. "As you pointed out, no one can know that until they've made a bargain."
"No one other than me, maybe." I put a hand on her lower back and propelled her into my apartment, taking in the sexy curve of her ass in those tiny shorts. "You forgot to get dressed this morning."
"I forgot how possessive you are this morning," she corrected.
"You'd never forget that." I shut the apartment door behind us and carried my paintings to the table.
"It looks bigger on the inside," Liv remarked, heading to the couch like she planned to stay.
"It doesn't. It's tiny."
"I'm surprised you picked this place. You like having space."
"It's temporary," I said.
"How many years, temporary?"
"There wasn't a plan. This place was just buying me time to figure out how to make you fall back in love with me. If I'd known you thought you were fated to a werewolf, I would've tracked you down sooner."
And killed him.
When Larson told me in our house that she'd found her fated mate, I'd just about lost my fucking mind. Lars had talked me off the edge while she was swimming.
"You were just trying to recover from the mess I made of your life, you mean," she corrected.
"No. I always liked your mess."
I followed her to the couch as she considered the waistband of her shorts. I knew damn well that she wasn't wearing underwear with them. Those were the ones with the built-in liner. I'd peeled them off her enough times that it wasn't a question.
There was a lump in her bra that hadn't been there before she pulled the paintings out of her car, so I assumed it was part of her peace offering.
"Close your eyes while I take my shorts off," she instructed.
I lifted a brow at her. "Are you really trying for modesty with me? I know what your clit looks like from the inside of a tiny, dark bathroom stall."
Her face reddened. "Your shifter vision really pulled through that night. What was it you said to me?"
"I'm sure this won't be the last time I fuck you in a bathroom, Livvy. Now put your hands in my hair and try to be quiet."
The red on her cheeks spread. "I wasn't quiet. Everyone was looking at us when we left the bathroom. You were getting an award for that gorgeous painting of the way the city's wards glittered through the clouds, and I couldn't make it through the dinner."
She'd started having a panic attack at the table during a large event, so I'd taken her to the bathroom. Sex was always the best way to wipe out her magic.
"That dinner was too long anyway. Like I told you that night, I know damn well how much noise you make when you come for me. If I'd wanted you quiet, I would've covered your mouth."
She slipped her shorts off quickly, holding them over her sexy little cunt as she draped herself over the couch and gestured to her dark, marked leg. "Happy?"
I sat down beside her, my fingers brushing the skin as I followed the swirling mark up her thigh and over her hip. It didn't make it to her waist, but it curled up higher than I'd expected, and angered me more than it should've.
"How many times did you fuck him?" I asked.
"Niall." Her face was red, and her expression told me she didn't want me to know.
"Come on. Tell me. I'd be seriously impressed if it rivaled the number of times you fucked me."
"I'm sure you've been with other people since we broke up, and I know you don't want to talk about that."
I stared at her, waiting.
The scent of her arousal was already on the air.
She fucking loved that I was possessive of her, even if she'd never admitted it.
Liv sighed. "You have to promise not to kill him."
"I'm not promising that."
"Niall."
"Livvy."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
We stared each other down.
She didn't budge. "If you want to know, you have to swear that you're not going to kill him," she repeated.
"The answer must be pretty bad, if you're that determined."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Three times. None of them were good."
"Did he make you come?"
She made a face. "He thinks he did."
My body shook with the effort it took to stop myself from walking out of the apartment and hunting him down.
Not only had he been inside my female, but he had been so fucking bad that he hadn't even managed to bring her pleasure.
"He needs to die," I gritted out.
"We're not even friends. He faked the friendship because they need me to regrow an assload of their trees. They played me."
"Then he really needs to die."
"He's Kat's friend, and he's going to seal a mate bond with her sister. Plus, he's on the council. We can't kill him." She slipped her fingers into my hair.
I dragged my hand slowly down the inside of her thigh. "I don't like that he's on your skin. Can you get rid of it?"
"No. I haven't upheld my side of the bargain yet."
I let out a harsh breath. "Fuck."
"Why do you think you and I are fated, Niall?" The sudden change in subject didn't catch me off guard. Liv did that frequently.
It took me a minute to calm myself down long enough to come up with an honest answer, but I managed.