67. Deacon
Chapter 67
Deacon
We’re two days in, and heat hits Henri hard. She’s more primal and needy. Her consent is fervent. I’ve never had this much of a connection with someone. The responsibilities of my life have never let me give this much dedicated time to a partner. And not once have I ever felt something for them. Duty yes. Love and care, never.
“Earth to Deacon.” Henri fakes white noise like she’s on a walkie-talkie.
When she cracks a joke, she’s lucid. This more playful and carefree Henri is so different yet familiar. She’s relaxed and at ease. I love this goofy side of her. I want more of it.
My back is to her, but turning my head over my shoulder, I hold up my hand like it’s a walkie-talkie and make the crackle sound back to her. “Deacon to Ground Control, go ahead, Ground Control.”
“What’s your current objective?” Henri fakes the crackle, and the temptress, wearing one of my T-shirts, leans against the counter.
“Operation: fuel the sex machine. Over.” I crackle again .
Henri giggles, dropping the walkie-talkie act. “You make me sound like a cyborg.”
“With how often you’re riding my dick, I’m starting to think you are a cyborg or a competitive sex-lete.” I shrug with a nonchalant smile.
She lets out a ‘hmmm,’ tapping a finger on her chin before deciding on “More like a heat-lete?”
Despite it being late in the day, I’ve made us breakfast. I plate the food, one for her and then one for myself, before bringing them to the breakfast bar in the kitchen rather than eating at the dining room table and the chairs we’ve defiled.
“It smells delicious. When did you learn to cook?” Henri walks around the breakfast bar and sits down.
It’s such an innocent question. I should lie, but I don’t. I’m okay letting her learn all the truth about me. I offer up all my ugly parts because I’ve seen her darkest ones.
“About three days after Cade left for basic training. It was me and Lena on our own. Mom and Dad didn’t teach either of us how to cook because ‘we have staff for that.’” I snort at how ridiculous my life must sound to someone not raised wolf. “So, I pulled up videos on the internet and figured it out. There was a lot of takeout in the beginning, called in after the dinner hour because of whatever I did wrong to a dish made it inedible.”
Henri doesn’t seem upset by my revelation. “Well, how else were you supposed to learn? You’re really good at doing what you need to in order to survive. It’s kind of sexy.”
I set my fork on my plate, the bite of pancake speared on the end still attached. “I can’t even tell anymore if that’s you or the heat talking.”
She shrugs and sends me one of my smirks, but it fades into a soft smile that’s all her own. “I love how Cade cooks for Thalia. Burnt grilled cheese and all. Nathan never cooks for me. ”
“Cooked,” I correct, not letting thoughts of him remain in the present tense.
Henri agrees with one stern nod. “Cooked. He never cooked for me. There was always ‘if you wanted some, you should have asked’ and ‘there’s leftovers if you want.’ But it wasn’t for me.”
“You were an afterthought in the relationship.” Those words come out a little harsh because they’re tied to my beating heart that is crushed for her. She deserved so much more.
Henri pays my tone no mind. “Yeah. Completely.” She moves on, directing the conversation back to me. “But you take care of everyone. It’s like you’re constantly in servant-leadership mode.”
“I don’t think of myself as a leader, and servant takes it a little too far. But it’s just become a distraction. If I’m taking care of someone else, at least there’s a purpose. And I’ve trained myself to do just about anything basic while under the influence of just about everything I’ve tried,” I answer before going back to eating.
“Do you have any nondestructive coping mechanisms?” She looks me up and down.
“Coping mechanisms? One is supposed to cope?” My food is flavorless with that thought. It’s not her fault. This is just what happens when I talk about myself. The hollowness grows, and I’ll eat past it in a minute. “Until very recently, it’s been day in and day out. You know, the same shit, different day for me. It wasn’t until you made me be public facing that I had to learn to do something new.”
“Oh.” Henri goes silent eating.
The guilt my words carried wasn’t intended for her to bear.
“This?” I gesture to myself because, let’s face it, there isn’t a part of me that’s not touched by darkness. “Isn’t on you. I am the sum of all my parts, the good, the bad, and the indifferent. It’s just until you... I lived in the dark cave watching the shadows of light, wondering what monster would come for me.”
“Plato was an asshole.” Henri surprises me, knowing the reference while violently stabbing into her pancake. The fork clicks on the plate. “Who the fuck thinks of chaining prisoners in a cave as an experiment?”
“Amen to that.” I laugh and shake my head.
The people who don’t think about chaining abusive asshole ex - boyfriends up in secluded basements and slowly torturing them to death. Henri doesn’t need to know that. I’ll always be honest with her, but that’s not the sort of information one should volunteer.
Murder, or the thought of it, brings back my sense of taste.
We’ll avenge her. It will be delicious. My wolf thinks of an all new taste.
My hunger grows when Henri hops on her stool, getting closer to me until we’re brushing elbows.