16. Deacon
Chapter 16
Deacon
Despite my new personal stack of death threats, which warrants a four-person security team, I receive no calls or objections from Cade, or his business partner, Peter Corinth, as I convince the team to take us all over the place. The first couple threats were funny, but evidently my response to them was not, and now they don’t like to tell me why people want to kill me, only that I need to be careful and watch my back. Which means I’ll be doing exactly not that.
Four of my favorite takeout restaurants, scattered across DC, and the cupcake place seemed like a good reward for not being a dick to the event coordinator who talked down to Henri.
I let Henri spend a half hour taking pictures of me while I impromptu shake hands and sign autographs with patrons and bakery staff before I make it obvious that I’m overstimulated and my wolf is starting to come back.
But back on the sofa of the hotel suite, I can’t think of a better evening. I sure as fuck can’t think of a better way to spend the last evening in DC, given the circumstances .
This is a date. My wolf decides. He’s barely conscious after the prescription pills I bought this morning, but he’s loud enough to give me words like that. The ones that send an ache to my heart.
I try to dismiss the feeling because Henri is adamant about staying with the asshole boyfriend. But this would be a unique and enjoyable date. If only I could end it with another one of those kisses. It’s been about three weeks since New Year’s Eve, and I’ve fallen asleep to the thought of her tongue in my mouth every single night.
Her phone buzzes on the sofa between us, and the asshole’s name lights up the screen.
Nathan:
You having a good time? I hope (... )
I growl. I don’t want to, but it starts in my chest before I can help it.
Henri picks up her phone, and then she lies to me. “He’s hoping I’m having a good time and says that he misses me.”
I should be good and let her lie. But I’m no good for her, and I’m no good as a person. “That’s not what that text says.”
She bites her lips together but doesn’t contradict me.
“You haven’t texted him enough this trip. So, when you get home, he’ll probably accuse you of cheating on him.” I run my tongue over my teeth before I finish. “And then he’ll beat on you, trying to make you remember your place, or maybe it’s in some sort of fugue state or fake hormone-induced rage. You’ll come back to the house wearing long sleeves or, overall, a little tender from something and pretend you’re fine. Because sure, by the next day, you will be... physically at least.”
“He’s not a bad guy.” Henri isn’t lying. She believes that.
“No, he’s a fucking terrible human being,” I assert .
I move the bao takeout container back to the coffee table and shift on the sofa to look at her.
Henri shakes her head and plays with her food. “He’s been cheated on, and I don’t do enough to show him how loyal I am. He feels ostracized since I started to work with wolves. Me being more in human culture than wolf culture made it easier for us to connect. Now he’s worried that I’ll forget what it’s like to be human.”
“You were never human to start with,” I argue. A ball of ice cools me from the inside out. My fingers ache to touch her. “He’s trying to make you compliant and held to this ideal that won’t ever exist. He tries to isolate you from the people you have the most connection to.”
“I don’t have a connection to other wolves.” She puts her takeout container on the coffee table. “I don’t, Deacon. I know you all think I should. I don’t miss the slight insistences from Cade and Finn and Lena... to do wolf things. But I was human until one day I just went into heat. Then I was supposed to be different.” She draws a deep breath. Letting anger fall out of her words, Henri adopts a more somber tone. “He’s so good to me. No one seems to see that part of him.” She defends him and then looks away from me. “Like for my birthday, he’ll book us a nice weekend away. We’ll really get to reconnect.”
Her phone pings again, and Henri lifts it, lighting up the screen. She winces slightly with whatever she just received.
“Don’t tell me he’s your boyfriend and that he loves you. He’s cheating on you, Henri.” I say those words less gently than I wanted to.
Fuck, I’m an asshole. That’s not how she should have heard that information.
“He’s cheating on me?” She shakes her head once. Then her shoulders drop. “You’re sure they’re not just his clients? He goes to people’s houses sometimes.” Despite questioning it, Henri holds tight to the rigid belief that her relationship is ‘good.’
“I’m positive.” I nod and behave against the thought of spelling out how many and when.
Henri’s lack of questioning comes from a suspected knowing. She doesn’t argue with me or defend him. This information isn’t new to her, but my presentation of it... wasn’t the greatest.
“But you kinda knew that, didn’t you?”
She drops her head into her hands, covering her face. There’s one small nod. If it were any smaller, I’d have missed it.
All the details locked away in my head of his schedule could destroy her. As much as I want to rip her out of his arms and be selfish, using this information to do so would hurt her. It’s bad enough I told her like this.
I let myself put my hand on her knee, violating the ‘no touching’ rule, and it stops some of the tension in my voice. “I’m not asking you to pick me or choose me. I’m not asking that you live with us, with me, because I’m being selfish. This isn’t about me.”
Mmm, kinda is, my wolf snarks at me.
“I’m not asking you to pick me,” I reiterate. Henri isn’t looking at me, so I take two fingers and, as gently as I can, turn her head toward me. “I’m asking you to not pick him. I’m asking you to do what’s right and safest for yourself because he isn’t it.”
We lock eyes, and I can see her turmoil. The eyes are a portal to the soul and Henri’s is tortured. I’m all too familiar with being tortured, but knowing Henri is experiencing it is a different kind of pain.
I run my fingers along her jaw into her hair, and she parts her lips.
I’m not sure it’s an invitation, but I move on instinct, kissing her anyway. My lips press against hers, and she kisses back.
That is until her phone pings again.
It kills me to let her go.
Neither of us needs her to look at the screen to know who it is.
But Henri’s silence, after that kiss, is an answer in itself. I’m not asking her to pick me, but even if I was... she wouldn’t.
“Answer him again before it gets worse.” I shake my head. My patience with being the voice of reason didn’t last long. “Why don’t you call him, give him some extra attention.”
“Are you sure?” She cocks her head, examining me.
“Positive. Wasn’t kidding, Henri, it kills me inside that he hurts you because of me.” I hang my head and pick up a cupcake. “I’ll go to my room so you can show him that you’ve lots of privacy and I’m nowhere near you at all.”
I don’t stick around for her to argue with me. I’ve given her the information. At some point, something will give. My patience, probably.