Chapter 30 Feral
Thirty. Feral
Patrick
Much to my chagrin, the IHA didn’t cancel the tournament.
Or at least they hadn’t come to a decision by the time I boarded my flight.
Every attempt at suggesting a pause until we knew more about the young player in a coma was ignored.
Shocking. I gave up when it was clear the more we pushed, the longer it would take.
And my only goal was to get home to Tamara.
After the video call last night, I lay awake for hours and stared at photos of her.
Of course I’d stalked her on Instagram and saved the ones I love, including one of her kissing the camera.
I’d also taken pictures of her over the last few weeks when she was doing mundane things like drinking her morning tea or washing dishes while listening to an audiobook.
I have pictures of her from the cake tasting and the days that followed.
I wanted to get a screenshot of her last night, but watching her was so distracting, I forgot.
I know how she looks when she comes and that’s enough.
While waiting for my flight to leave, I wandered the Delhi airport and stumbled across a baby store.
The staff member was most unhelpful, but I did manage to buy two grand worth of things I don’t even know if our kid needs.
I realise we still haven’t talked about anything related to our baby.
We need to build a nursery, buy toys, clothes and whatever else Tamara might need.
Then again, maybe she’s already thought about it and we haven’t had the time to talk about it yet.
I set a reminder on my phone so over the next few days, we can figure all of it out together.
Kuriakose was at the airport to pick me up despite my insistence that I could get a cab. We spent the whole hour talking while he drove me to Tamara’s place.
Even though I knew she was at work, a part of me hoped she’d be waiting for me. Instead I find a box of homemade brownies and a note. I check the calendar and note she also had a therapy session today and we’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a few days.
Tamara claims to be a terrible cook and it’s not too far from the truth, but she’s a lot better than I expected.
She’s a really good baker and if she has a recipe to follow, my girl can make almost anything.
I’ve also learned she’s a perfectionist and for someone like that, the preciseness of baking is ideal.
We’ve been experimenting and she’s mastered all kinds of brownies.
When I open the box, the delicious scent of chocolate wraps around me. I bite into one and read her neatly written note:
I so badly wanted to be there to welcome you home, but adulting.
:( I have a day full of meetings, but finish at 5.
I know you haven’t been sleeping well on this trip, so I need you to nap.
My bed’s available and bonus, it smells like me.
Then wear your most comfortable clothes and come to this address at 6pm.
Wear your dancing shoes, Daddy.
xo Lotus
I’m nothing if not a good and obedient partner, so I do what I’m told.
I don’t bother to unpack, but I crawl into her bed.
Tossing and turning for a bit, I pull open all the drawers in her nightstand and find the one filled with her toys.
Smirking, I finally fall asleep with memories of the night before and wake up two hours later when my alarm blares.
Following more of her instructions, I shower and slip into baggy trousers and a white T-shirt with a hand-painted lotus on the left side of my chest. The location she left takes me past the city limits, which allows me to drive faster down the highway.
When the map alerts me that I’ve arrived, I frown at the sketchy-looking building.
The only reason I know it’s not some place she can kill me are the cars parked and people milling about.
I leave the helmets hooked to the side of the bike, lock the saddle bag and head inside.
There’s a queue at the entrance and guys wearing masks marking wrists and tapping on iPads.
I give them my name, let them stamp me with what looks like a neon tube light and follow the people through the front door.
While it looks like a rundown warehouse on the outside, the inside is a whole other thing.
The walls are covered in murals and the high ceilings have weird looking chandeliers.
It also boasts multiple stories and spacious balconies looking into the main area.
There’s no music; the only sounds are feet scuffing across the cement floor and muffled conversation, so I’m even more confused about where I am until I step through tall black doors.
The bright lights are turned off, but fluorescent colours dance across the walls.
There’s a raised platform at one end with two DJs and everyone’s wearing headphones while dancing.
They’re moving at their own beat and I frown, dancing is not my thing.
With my hands shoved into my pockets, I move further into the room and pause.
And there she is.
I’m so attuned to Tamara that even if she was clothed from head to toe, I’d recognise her.
Seeing her curly hair and tattoos—the two on the back of her arms—is a dead giveaway.
Tilting my head, I drink in the rest of her.
Her top is a black thing with thin straps tucked in a pinkish-orange skirt that flutters around her ankles, and her feet are adorned in worn Converse sneakers.
Then I notice the two douchebags drooling over her as they talk.
“Mine,” I growl and walk over, flexing my hand so I don’t punch either of them.
They see me before she does and I don’t give them a chance to react before my hand wraps around her neck.
She squeaks as I turn her to me and her expression transforms into joy.
Daddy’s home, baby. I grin and dip my head, covering her mouth with mine.
Tamara moans and I shudder at the sound, her fingers clutch at the front of my shirt.
She tugs me in and we’re pressed against each other.
Our tongues swipe and tangle, then I’m sucking it before she sinks her teeth into my bottom lip.
My fingers twist in her hair and tug, drawing a gasp out of her.
I grunt and lick into her mouth, making her melt against me.
We pull away from the kiss slowly, pecks and nips as our lips part.
The assholes stare, but I don’t give a shit.
I have my girl and nothing else matters.
“Hey, Lotus.”
She beams and tip-toes to bump her nose to mine. “Hi, Daddy.”
The urge to claim her again shoots through me, but I resist. I untangle my fingers from her curls slowly as she turns to the men still standing there.
Their eyes are wide and mouths are flapping open and closed.
Either they recognise me or they’re scandalised by the way I thoroughly fucked Tamara’s mouth.
“Oh, boys. This is Patrick, my baby daddy. Trick, this is…oh no, I forgot your names. I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t look the least bit sorry and the two douchebags finally get the hint as they walk away. She turns to me, still smiling like the fucking sun and I realise I was a fool for thinking I wasn’t in love with her.
“You’re so naughty, Trick.”
I laugh. “Your mere existence turns me into an animal in heat.”
“Feral,” she whispers and I nod. “I love it.”
“Good. This is what you’ve done to me and you have to live with it.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Happily. I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too, Lo,” I whisper and kiss the tip of her nose. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too. Was it a good trip?”
“Eh. Could have been an email. Anyway, what’s going on here?”
“It’s a silent disco1,” she tells me, eyes bright.
That’s when I notice how much of her bump is visible and my hand lands on it gently.
She covers my touch and points to the front of the room.
“All the headphones are connected to the DJ console and since there are two of them, you can choose between the different genres of music they’re playing. ”
“You do this often?”
“It happens only once every few months and I always miss it. Got a special invite this time.” She links our fingers and leads the way to the front.
I follow, not entirely sure why this is a thing, but it makes her happy, so I’ll do it.
She grabs two headphones and a laminated sheet before returning to me.
Gesturing for me to bend, she hooks one around my neck.
“Okay, so if you tap the left side, you’ll hear all of the latest pop hits. The right side is music from the 70s to the early 2000s,” she tells me, turning the sheet over for me to see.
I go through the kind of music they’ll be playing and decide what they label as ‘classics’ are more my speed.
Someone makes an announcement about the DJs taking a five minute break if we want to get drinks, so I pocket the list and take her hand.
At the bar, I buy two glasses of soda and lime.
When it’s two minutes to starting, we pull our headphones on and the lights instantly change.
It makes Tamara glow and I watch as she grooves, the brightest smile on her lips.
Marry me, Lotus. Spend forever with me.
She grins and holds out a hand, so I take it and let her drag me into the crowd.
I’m not a dancer, but when Madonna comes on, you automatically start moving.
I can tell she’s listening to the other DJ because of the way her body flows.
I let her dance alone, swaying and shaking to her music, her face so bright as she mouths along to the words.
I know there are other people around us, but I couldn’t tell you anything about them—she has all my attention.
She hands me her drink and grabs the sides of her skirt, sashaying and spinning.
Her eyes meet mine briefly as she raises her arms over her head and twirls slowly.
I sip on my drink, but don’t taste anything other than Tamara—her flavour still lingers on my tongue.
Madonna switches to Whitney and her movements sync with the music.
It wouldn’t even matter if she didn’t match the music, she looks so happy.
I’m suddenly bumped backwards as everyone forms a line.
I lose Tamara in the chaos, but watch as she takes her place and attempts to keep up.
Given that a lot of people are participating in this choreographed number, I’m guessing it happens all the time.
Their feet shuffle too fast and they’re spinning and clapping.
I don’t know where to look first, but Tamara seems to have finally caught on.
She moves fluidly, like she’s been doing this her whole life.
I should have known she’d be a damn good dancer.
The song changes to something slower and everyone disperses.
Tamara looks around in confusion for a second before her face lights up when she finds me.
She stretches her arms out and wiggles her fingers, so I allow myself to be drawn back to her.
Her arms wind around my neck and I drag mine around her waist, careful not to drop our drinks.
I stare into her eyes, moving as she does.
It’s the only way I can dance. She tugs one side of the headphones off for herself and does the same for me.
“Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah.”
“Sound a little more convincing, Trick.”
I chuckle and rub my nose against hers. “I like seeing you happy, Lo.”
“We can go if you want,” she says and I shake my head.
“I like this, I promise. Dancing is not my strong suit, but I’m enjoying being here with you.”
“You’ll tell me when you’ve had enough, yeah?”
Never. “Of course.”
Our headphones are tugged back into place and she rests her forehead against my chest as the slow song continues.
When it starts to pick up, Tamara still stays with me, arms around my waist. The music changes again—and I have to admit the DJ is really good with his transitions and smooth shifts into different tracks—and Tamara straightens up, dropping her headphones around her neck.
I do the same with mine as she finishes her drink and burps.
I chuckle and kiss her forehead as she leans into me.
“Trick?”
“Yeah, Lo?”
“Take me home,” she whispers and it’s in all the unsaid things I know what she wants.