Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
He lost track of how long he trained. At some point it became less about letting off steam and more to empty his mind completely. It wasn’t like his brain was helping him. All it did was circle around the same problems again and again.
By the time Cecilia began to stir, he’d only come to one conclusion: he had no idea what the fuck he was doing.
But none of that seemed to matter as much as it had an hour ago when he heard the telltale sounds of his consort opening the bedroom door.
Swiping his forearm over his sweaty face, he sprinted toward the worktable to grab his helmet.
Slamming it onto his head and locking it in place, Sloane stalked out of the armory, intent on finding his doe.
The air was cooler in the hallway. The naked skin of his torso, still slick with sweat, pebbled with the sudden change in temperature.
He paused his hunt when he remembered he hadn’t put on a shirt. Sloane waffled for a moment, aware that a certain amount of pheromones could be absorbed through the skin. The smart thing would’ve been for him to walk back into the armory and retrieve his shirt.
But another thought occurred to him, too, when he heard the sounds of Cecilia moving about the kitchen.
His heart rate jumped when he remembered how she’d hopped up on the counter and ordered him to stand between her legs.
He hadn’t been allowed to touch her, but she’d touched him.
The chance that she’d do it again, this time on his bare skin, was too tantalizing to resist.
The filter will do most of the work, he assured himself as he walked silently toward the center of his universe. And it’s not like clothes or armor are pheromone-proof. It’s fine.
Sloane turned the corner to stand at the entrance of the kitchen.
He found Cecilia stretched up on her tiptoes to reach the plain white dishes he’d purchased just in case she ended up at the Battery.
She was dressed in little more than an over-sized t-shirt and socks, and her dark hair was piled into a messy knot on top of her head.
She’d removed most of her bandages, he noticed, leaving the long expanse of her legs visible to his greedy eyes.
She didn’t appear to notice him there for a handful of seconds. Or at least, it didn’t seem like she did until, she huffed, “Hey, champ, can you make yourself useful and get me a—”
Whatever she’d been about to ask for never made it past her lips. Cecilia had turned her head to give him a sleepy look, but something about seeing him there stopped her abruptly. Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened.
Brows furrowing, Sloane crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her. Tilting his head to one side, he asked, “What do you need?”
Cecilia’s mouth opened, but nothing came out for some time. “Um… I just— Uh, could you get me a bowl, please?”
Eying her closely, he observed, “You’re flushed. Are you unwell?”
Somehow, Cecilia’s cheeks went an even duskier color. It would’ve been fascinating except for the fact that one cheek was heavily bruised, with a cut below her eye that he’d sealed with a butterfly bandage.
“Oh my gods, I’m fine,” she squeaked, suddenly determined to scuttle away from him. Pressing her back against the counter, she asked, “Why are you half-naked?”
Sloane blinked. Looking down at his torso, he answered, “I was training.”
“This early?”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
Cecilia scraped some flyaway strands out of her eyes and looked away from him. “Right, right. Sorry, I forget that I’m on a different schedule.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. I sleep in two hour shifts.”
“Two hour… Okay, no, I can’t even think about that until I’ve had some cereal.” Still not looking at him, she gestured vaguely toward the cabinet. “Can you? The bowl, I mean.”
“I didn’t anticipate how short you’d be when I built the kitchen,” he explained, stepping around her to grab a bowl.
Cecilia’s eyes flicked toward him with alarm. “Wait, you didn’t build this kitchen for me, did you?”
Handing her the dish, he answered, “No. I built it before I met you. But I would’ve made changes if I’d known.”
She blew out a breath. Shaking her head, she muttered, “Commitment issues have never even heard your name, have they?”
Not sure what she meant but fairly certain she wasn’t actually speaking to him, Sloane silently stepped back to let her access the refrigerator.
Cecilia was quiet for a while as she grabbed the milk he’d had to go out to retrieve and then the cereal he knew was her favorite.
Settling onto one of the island’s stools, she spooned a few mouthfuls of foul-looking wheat-derived crumbles into her mouth before she spoke again.
“You gonna eat something?” she asked, casting him an all too brief look.
“I’m not hungry,” he lied.
Cecilia slowly crunched a mouthful of cereal. “So… you were working out, huh?”
“Yes.”
Her spoon dipped into the bowl, stirring up cow’s milk and artificial colors. “You keep your helmet on for that, too?”
“No.”
There was a long pause wherein he supposed Cecilia seemed to expect him to elaborate.
Unfortunately, Sloane wasn’t interested in explaining the many reasons he wanted to keep his helmet on so soon.
Letting her choose was important, but he needed her to like him before he told her the truth.
The Cecilia he’d come to know wouldn’t hesitate to run if he laid an ultimatum like that at her feet.
She wouldn’t escape him, of course, but he didn’t want to ruin the fragile peace they’d settled on. Yet.
Cecilia glanced his way again, but she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes on him for long before she had to look away. “It’s just for me, I guess,” she muttered.
Seeing she clearly wanted some sort of answer, Sloane fished for a decent excuse. “It’s… standard protocol to wear it in front of civilians.”
“Okay, but you’re not on duty,” she pointed out, waving her spoon in his direction. “You could relax a little. I mean, you’re already shirtless. And sweaty. And shirtless.”
Curious about the strange tenor in her voice, he stepped closer to the island. “You said shirtless twice.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not what I was expecting to see first thing.” She tilted her head toward the seat beside hers. “If you’re not gonna eat, you might as well sit. Unless you want to go take a shower or something.”
He probably did need a shower, but the temptation of sitting so close to her was impossible to resist.
Sloane slid onto the stool next to hers and spread his legs until his knee brushed her thigh. He held his breath, waiting for her to reprimand him or pull away. When she continued to eat her cereal like nothing happened, a roar of triumph crashed through him.
They were silent for a while, but it wasn’t a bad silence.
Sloane watched her with perfect focus, his forearms braced on the counter and his breathing steady.
Seeing her up close was better than he imagined it would be.
He supposed it was something like the difference between observing the moon from the Earth and walking on it with his own two feet.
Absolutely beautiful, he thought, tracing the curve of her cheek and the fan of her lashes with his gaze. Even bruised and recently rolled out of bed, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
Cecilia set her spoon down inside the now empty bowl. Only a tiny puddle of hot pink milk lay at the bottom, which he found mildly revolting.
Turning to him, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I did some thinking after I went to bed last night.”
Sloane tensed. Does she want to leave?
Before he could begin to panic, she declared, “You like me.”
Still reeling from the instinctive fear that she intended to leave him, it took him a moment to understand what she was saying.
“...Yes?”
She shook her head. Spreading her fingers out on the island’s surface, she said, “No, Sloane. I mean you really like me.”
Failing to see her point or where she intended to take that observation, he cautiously answered, “Correct.”
“Right, okay. It seems like maybe you’re not understanding what I’m getting at here.”
Sloane nodded. “I’m not. You’ve only said things that are obvious.”
Cecilia let out a soft laugh and rubbed her eyes. “As weird as this is, it’s actually kind of nice. Lemme just try and reframe how I approach this, okay?”
He waited quietly as she worked out whatever it was she was trying to say in her mind.
It didn’t bother him. If anything, it gave him more time to quietly observe her up close.
Even though he couldn’t smell her through the air-tight seal and filter of his mask, being next to her was intoxicating.
He could feel the electricity and warmth of her radiating through the flushed skin of his chest, and when she moved even the smallest amount on her stool, the air rippled around him in gentle waves.
If he closed his eyes, it was almost like being touched.
“I don’t know anything about elves, really,” she admitted, looking down at her hands.
“I mean, I know the basics. The stuff they teach in school, right? But I’ve never spent time with one, and I don’t know how you date.
So forgive me if all of this is standard protocol for your people and I’m just ignorant, but it feels like you have romantic intentions toward me. Is that correct?”
Pulse thumping hard in his neck, he answered, “Correct.”
You’re my consort, he wanted to tell her. You’re mine. I’m yours.
Cecilia let out a slow exhale. Her cheeks had gone dark again, but she still didn’t look up when she said, “All right, I’m going to make another assumption here. Tell me if I’m wrong, okay? But it sure seems like maybe you haven’t done that sort of thing before. Dating, I mean.”
More curious than offended by her assumption, he ordered, “Elaborate.”
“Well… for starters, instead of asking me out last year, you decided to stalk me. Then kidnap me.”