43. Deacon
Chapter 43
Deacon
“I want you, but I’m scared.”
Henri’s response stops my heart.
Those two little words—‘I’m scared’—are the exact reason I didn’t accept her offer to go to bed together last night.
I’m frozen, waiting for more.
“I’m sorry.” Henri’s heart is fluttering like a hummingbird.
“Don’t be sorry, Hen.” I slide off the stool, trying to give her space like that’s going to help her overcome whatever fear she has.
“It’s just. I can’t get the bad memories out of my head.” She runs her hand back through her hair, tousling it, and it catches the low light. “It’s not that I haven’t thought about being with you. Because I have. And last night, my mind didn’t get in the way of what my body wanted. Which was probably the alcohol, but... what if I can’t?”
“I am not going to make you tell me what those memories are.” Because my gut feeling tells me I already know. “But I need to know how I can help you.”
“I swear it’s nothing you’ve done. I’m trying so hard to get past it. It’s so stupid because it’s not like it’s ever been that bad. It’s not like I’ve really had it bad. But there’s just these jolts, and I feel so fucking helpless.” She stumbles over her words as she rushes them out, wringing her hands in her lap.
Henri’s wolf is pushed forward in her eyes. It’s certainly a wildling look. So wounded and afraid that she’s... helpless. That word echoes in my brain, bouncing around the inner curvature of my skull, waiting for processing. The chaotic energy in my head matches the look of her wolf.
Fix it, Deacon. I focus as hard as I can on a solution, the echo not subsiding.
Make her safe, my wolf offers with no actual plan.
“I’ve an idea.” I move slowly away from her, keeping my body turned toward her. Anything to show her she’s still my focus.
I get to the kitchen drawer with the sharp implements, and I pull out one of the paring knives.
Henri flinches, and something inside me squeezes. Knowing that her fear of me is linked to him doesn’t really sting. What does hurt is that she feels so powerless because, to me, she’s a queen I’ll serve until my dying breath.
“It’s for you.” I set the knife on the counter, not approaching her with it.
We’re going to make a mess of that asshole’s body. We’re going to filet him slowly like roast pork. My wolf grows more and more violent with thoughts about Nathan.
The agreement between us growing stronger.
“And what am I supposed to do with it?” Henri eyes the knife.
“Well.” I pause and draw a breath. “I propose that, when you’re ready for more, you arm yourself with said knife. Take control of the situation. I wouldn’t hurt you, and your logical brain knows that. But there’s a wounded soul tucked inside you that’s been holding its breath for so long. Now that it’s able to breathe again, it can’t be ignored.”
Henri hangs her head.
“It doesn’t have to be right now. I’m offering you something for when you’re ready,” I explain.
My cock throbs, not getting the memo that this isn’t going to happen right this minute.
“What if I want it now?” Henri raises her eyes to me. “What if I’m sick of fighting my wolf all the time?”
“Then take the knife,” I encourage her. “Put it anywhere you want. My throat, my chest, my cock. And if I hurt you, then hurt me back.”
She tilts her head as she looks at the knife and then flicks her eyes back at me. “What if I hurt you?”
“On accident?” I ask for clarification, hoping she knows I won’t ever hurt her on purpose.
She chews on her bottom lip.
“Then it’s a little pain. You feeling safe is more important than the risk of accidentally cutting me.” I don’t tell her that I’m pretty sure it’d be fucking hot if she cut me, period.
My wolf presses forward, trying to call hers back to the surface.
And, fuck, do I want to end the uncertainty in this for her. I know I can give her what she needs, but not at the expense of her mental health. I won’t do what she’s afraid to talk about. He’s used her and mistreated her, and I would never.
Her feelings aren’t about me. But they’re hers to sort through.
I try to slow things down between us. “I want you, Henri. I’ve wanted you for a long time. When I told you that you didn’t have to pick me, it wasn’t because I didn’t want you. It’s because I respect you enough to give you room to make the decisions you need to when you’re ready.”
She reaches for the knife but hesitates .
My cock and heart throb in unison, and I’m about to go toss myself into a cold shower for being too eager.
Our mate wants us. My wolf argues with me. Just give her a little push.
“You’re in charge, Henri. I’m at your mercy.” I slide the knife a little closer to her. “This offer isn’t going away. No expiration.”
Why won’t she accept us? My wolf whines.
I don’t like the honest answer. Because we’re no good for her. Nothing that pure can ever truly desire someone as dark as us .
So, it’s your fault? He huffs but doesn’t retreat, his focus returning to Henri.
I expect Henri won’t pick up the knife. That it’s not the right solution or it’s not something she can live with doing.
But hesitantly, she touches the handle, just her index and middle finger coming to rest on it.
With pursed lips and tensed shoulders, she asks timidly, “I want this, but are you sure?”
A silent exhale rushes out of me, and my muscles lose some of their tension.
“I promise.” Those words feel right.
I’m not sure if she fully understands how much I mean them. The weight of the promises I make is sometimes a deep burden on my soul, but I gladly take that weight for her.
“How?” She pulls the knife toward her.
“On a flat, stable surface probably best.” I make the leap, assuming she’s asking how to fuck with a knife between us.
“Valid.” Henri nods and lifts her gaze from the knife to me.
“Dare I say, Henri.” I smile at her. “Is that mischief in your eyes?”
The sparkle in her eye as she pulls her top lip between her teeth gives away that she’s embarrassed .
“We’ll take it slow, okay?” I hesitate. I’m not pushing her too fast, am I?
“Deacon.” She looks at me, and there’s a steady resolve in her expression that wasn’t there before. “Like you said, we’ve been dancing around each other for almost a year. I’m single. You’re single. The kiss on New Year’s. Everything we’ve done here. At what point do we just say fuck it and try?”
The change makes me uneasy.
“Hen, we’ve been dancing around each other for almost a year.” I repeat those words back to her before choosing my own direction with it. “When I said that, it was to try and express my feelings for you, but that doesn’t mean we have to jump into something. That was not the intent.”
Henri growls, and it’s the first time I’ve truly heard her embrace her wolf. The feral sound has me dead on arrival. Her eyes are gold with the presence of her wolf, meaning the alcohol must have completely left her system.
Quit trying to talk the smokin’ hot blonde out of bed, Deacon. What a first.
“I want this. Quit telling me I might not.” She clutches the knife with a white-knuckle grip.
“I think it might be safer if you’re on top.” I don’t have a frame of reference for this, but the logic makes sense. “That way, you can control the speed and move any way you want.”
The gears work behind her eyes. When her wolf pulls away, I stuff mine down. He growls but goes... mostly willingly.
Bedroom feels too intimate. But is the living room too public? No. Henri got excited when we talked about public bondings. It wouldn’t be too public.
“Wait here? Let me get some things?”
“Sure.” Henri looks at the knife, and I head to the laundry room.
Through there, I go back through the closet, the primary bathroom, and into the bedroom. Along the way, I pick up and force as many fluffy bed things as I can into my arms.
When I get back to the main living space, Henri is still by the kitchen counter, eye fucking the knife, and my cock throbs with the way she’s looking at it.
Fuck. It’s not like Henri is dangerous. She’s small and unassuming, but seeing her armed and potentially slightly more deadly awakens my dark lust. I try to shake off those thoughts in the same way I shake out the blankets over the ground. If I don’t, there’s no way I’ll be able to satisfy her. I’ll be done the second she sinks onto me.
The coffee table in the living room is easy enough to move, so I lift it up and put it in the empty space where Lena’s painting supplies used to be. Then I move on to making some sort of makeshift bed on the stable floor, positioning the pillows and bedding around the space with a low level of padding in the middle to make it comfortable but not dangerous.
“Come on, Henri, your living room glamping site awaits.” I offer my hand out to her.
She almost tries to extend the hand holding the knife before realizing it and swapping them.
“Can...” Henri sits on the floor with me and groans. “Why does this feel so juvenile?”
I look around at my very flat blanket fort. “Well, I mean, if you’re up for danger, I’ve got other ideas.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “This is probably the nicest thing someone’s done for me. But ugh.” Henri tries to relax, but something’s rattling around in her brain. “Could we make out for a minute first?”
“I’m going to need to raise the bar for the nicest things people do for you.” I shake my head. Fuck, it’s a blanket on a floor. The bar is so low I couldn’t dig a grave under it. “But don’t ever feel embarrassed about what you want or need. No matter how silly you think it is, ask for it because I’m not judging you, Henri. I already did.”
“And you’ll love me anyway?” Henri smirks.
It’s almost patronizing, but I let it go.
“I didn’t think you caught it in DC.” I smile at her, dying to kiss her again. I reiterate, enunciating the important part. “And I love you anyway.”
Mindful of the knife’s position in my peripheral vision, I move in and tip her chin up. I kiss her, gently placing my lips on hers, then I let her choose how this is going to go.
She chooses to go slow. Her hesitant kisses test my resolve to truly let her take the lead.
Henri guides me down into our blankets and pillows until we’re horizontal, lying on our sides. It’s the beginning of her guiding me through it all. I’m completely at ease because I’d follow her anywhere, and getting to follow her to bed, or floor nest anyway, is a bonus.
She pushes against me, rolling me to my back.
The power she has over me like this... My cock throbs, begging for her to touch me, use me, and make me hers. But I wait, maybe not so patiently because a small whine escapes between her kisses.
Her lips on mine vary between soft and sweet and damn near trying to get me to come without even touching me. I knew Nathan was an idiot, but to fuck around on a woman who plays this well? Stupid doesn’t begin to cover it.
I become putty in her hands, letting her move me and mold me to what she needs. The soft kisses grow more insistent, and she straddles my thigh, grinding against me. The layers of fabric between us are too many, too much. I want her riding my thigh, to feel her wetness, to have skin-on-skin connection, but I’ve been gratifying my own desires for a long time .
This is about Henri, and I’m going to indulge her and, from that experience, draw my own pleasure.
“Fuck,” she gasps, moving her hands between us.
The knife scratches lightly against my skin as she tries to pull my shirt up.
I lean up into her and help her pull it off, the knife’s blade pushing against my flesh.
My shirt’s barely off over the top of my head, and she moves to the band of my sweatpants.
The knife barely knicks the skin across my pelvis, and I gasp.
Not ready to have a blood bath just yet, I tilt her head up with one finger. “Let me help.”
Henri’s breath is ragged, and she looks from my torso to the knife. “Shit, you’re bleeding.”
“It’ll stop,” I assure her.
With Henri still straddling my thigh, I lie back and lift my hips to slide my pants down.
Henri squeaks, grasping my chest to keep herself from falling off. I laugh, but she stands, the pommel of the knife sliding down my thigh as she strips my sweatpants off.
I’m fully naked before her, just waiting, and my breaths come faster. I’ve been patient and good. I’ve controlled myself this long, waiting to have her as my own. I can wait just a little longer and let her decide she’s ready for the next step.
She moves her gaze over my body, and she shudders from head to toe, the knife twitching in her hand. I can see desire spiking in the way her pupils take over the irises of her eyes.
Then she starts to strip, and I’m fucking dying inside.
We haven’t even started fucking, but the excitement has her skin glistening with sweat, and when her shirt pulls up over her tits, exposing her pebbled nipples, I want to suck them one at a time into my mouth and taste her skin on my tongue .
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen something so hot, and I want to stroke myself as I enjoy the view. I’m squirming, trying to keep my hands neutral. It’s insanely difficult to deny myself. We didn’t make any sort of rule that I couldn’t, but yielding to her desire and neglecting my own is a learning experience. One I’m definitely trying to master.
The knife isn’t sharp enough to destroy the shirt, but it definitely makes her pause, and she passes it between hands as she pulls herself free of the shirt sleeves.
Knife in hand, Henri smirks, and it’s a look I know she doesn’t do regularly, but it’s full of hot mischief. “You know, one thing I haven’t figured out is if you’re an ass man or a tits guy?”
I laugh, watching her run the thumb of her free hand into the waistband of her pants.
She quirks an eyebrow and looks slightly confused.
“Henri, if it’s yours, I’m into it. There isn’t anything about you I’m not dying to touch, lick, or fuck. You could walk around in snow gear, and I’d be drooling over you.” Her fingers pull on that band of elastic just a little bit farther, and a very wolfish whine comes out of me. “Fuck. Henri.”
“You mean that. Don’t you?” She furrows her brow and tilts her head, almost like she’s skeptical.
To further my point, I wrap my hand around my cock. “You’re in charge, Hen. But one thing you’ll never be able to convince me of is that you’re anything but perfect.”
Henri’s face softens, and she turns around but swivels her head to keep her eyes on me.
I keep my gaze trained on her, wondering where her thoughts have gone until she slowly bends at the waist and pushes the sweatpants down her thighs. Her underwear drags down with the pants, and I’m gifted a perfect view of her pussy. Her slick glistens in the light, and I squeeze my shaft, giving it a few strokes as I admire her.
She straightens and kicks her pants aside.
But when they’re gone, and she turns back to face me, she sucks in a sharp breath, clutching the knife a little tighter. Some of her bravado seems to have faded, and the scent of fear hangs in the air.
Denying the throbbing, raging desire pulsing through my body, I release my cock. Tucking one hand behind my head and reaching for her with the other, I welcome her back to me.
“Come here,” I encourage her, curling my fingers like I’d grab her if I could. “I want to feel you threaten me with that knife.”
She freezes.
Come on, Hen. Don’t shut me out. I know I’m pushing her a little bit with this. Is it a little bit too much? I meant for this to be baby steps, letting her take her power back.