Chapter Four
Elodie
When I wake up the next morning, for one blissful moment, I convince myself I dreamed the entire thing. Meeting Raiden at the grocery store. Bringing him to my apartment. The pleasure he coaxed from my needy body.
A hot flush warms my cheeks as I squirm and smile into my pillow before opening my eyes. It couldn’t have been real. Things like that don’t happen to me. Then I climb out of bed and shuffle into my tiny kitchen and stop.
The grocery bags.
They’re still sitting neatly on my counter exactly where Raiden had left them.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
It happened. He was here. The realization fills me with a happiness I haven’t felt in years.
I unpack the groceries, grateful I’d only bought pantry items, then catch my reflection in the microwave door.
I’m smiling. The woman staring back at me looks lighter somehow. Thoroughly pleasured, and it scares me a little.
It’s fast. I’ve known Raiden for two days. If Sarah knew, she’d probably tell me to slow down and think with my head instead of my heart.
Maybe she’d be right. But every time I remember the way he looks at me like I’m the only one he sees, it becomes harder to care how quickly this is happening. For three years I’ve existed. Teaching has been the only thing that made life feel meaningful.
Now…
Now there’s something worth getting up for. I shake my head, forcing myself to get ready for work before I’m late.
???
It’s Friday, and my students have already mentally left the building.
Six weeks into the school year and they’ve figured out exactly how much mischief they can get away with.
Half of them can’t sit still. The other half insist on showing me every drawing they finish.
It’s chaotic and wonderful. Exactly the way I like it.
Minutes later, someone knocks on my classroom door. A delivery driver stands outside holding an enormous bouquet of deep red roses.
“Miss Doyle?”
I blink. “Yes?”
“Delivery for you.”
My heart immediately leaps. Raiden.
A ridiculous warmth spreads through me. He didn’t have to send flowers. He’d seen me less than twenty-four hours ago. Still, I can’t stop smiling as I accept the bouquet.
“They’re beautiful,” Mrs. Langley, a teacher across the hall, says to me.
“Yes, they are,” I reply with a wide smile.
Once the driver leaves, I notice a small ivory envelope tucked between the stems. My smile grows. I open it. Then it disappears.
Playing hard to get only makes me want you more.
You’ll be mine soon.
—Drake
Every bit of warmth drains from my body. My fingers tighten around the card.
No, no, no…
This isn’t the first note he’s sent. Almost every day this week, Teddy has handed me folded slips of paper “from Daddy.” I never blamed Teddy. He was only doing what he’d been told. The messages had been annoying. Persistent.
Dinner invitations. Compliments. I’d thrown every one of them away.
But this feels different. More threatening.
Possessive. Like a promise instead of a request. Something cold moves down my spine.
Without another thought, I carry the roses to the trash can in the teachers’ lounge and drop the entire arrangement inside.
Mrs. Langley looks up. “Everything alright?”
I force a smile. “Wrong sender.”
She laughs softly. “His loss.”
If only she knew.
It’s late in the evening when I finish with my work for the day. I gather my things in my tote and bid the few teachers left goodbye. Instead of turning toward my apartment, I cross the street. My feet seem to know exactly where they’re going.
The familiar black sign for 4R Ink comes into view. Before I can second-guess myself, I push open the door. The bell chimes overhead. Nadia looks up from the reception desk, and recognition flickers across her face.
“Hi, Elodie.”
“Hi. I’m here to see Raiden.”
A tiny smile appears. “I figured,” she says, and I smile shyly at her. She stands and gestures toward the hallway. “He just finished up with his last client. Go ahead.”
“You don’t have to tell him I’m here?” I ask, surprised.
“He already knows.”
I blink. “What?”
Nadia smiles knowingly.
“He heard the bell.”
Heat rises into my cheeks. I thank her before walking toward his tattoo room. The door stands open. Raiden is leaning over his worktable, wiping down his equipment. He looks up. The second our eyes meet, heat flashes between us. It’s unsettling and arousing at the same time.
It feels like coming home to someone I’ve barely met.
His mouth curves. “Freckles.”
The nickname instantly brings back last night. My cheeks warm.
“Hi.”
“I was wondering when you’d stop by.”
“You were?”
“I need to check your tattoo.” His tone is casual, but it slides over my skin like a gentle caress.
I step inside, and he closes the door behind me. The ache inside me intensifies, growing with every intimate moment and space we share.
“Everything healing alright?” His deep voice rumbles through my insides, and my core clenches.
“I think so,” I say softly, unable to look away from him.
“Let’s have a look.”
I force myself to focus on the present moment and slip my cardigan off before carefully pulling the neckline of my blouse aside. He moves closer. Close enough that I catch the familiar scent of cedar and clean soap. Close enough to feel his hot breath ghosting over my exposed skin.
His fingertips brush lightly against my shoulder as he examines the tattoo, sending shivers of current through my entire body. The touch is brief, but it doesn’t stop my nipples from tightening in unabashed desire.
“It looks good.” He reaches for a tube of ointment. “This might feel cold,” he warns.
“It can’t be worse than the tattoo machine,” I say softly, drowning in the sensations that his presence and fingers evoke.
A quiet laugh escapes him. “No.”
The cool ointment soothes the tender skin. His fingers move carefully, spreading it over the small lavender sprig. When he’s finished, he puts everything back in place before turning back to me.
I straighten my shirt just in time to find his eyes on me. His gaze ensnares mine, and my heart trembles hard in my chest. His stare is penetrating, drilling through my numbness to my core. To the part of me that’s scared of Drake. The part of me that wants to be needed.
And underneath it, something I can’t name. Something that watches the way a locked door watches. In all of this, my breathing becomes erratic, and a deep part of me blooms with an ache that seems insatiable.
Raiden continues to look at me. “Something’s bothering you.”
I freeze. Was I that obvious?
“It’s nothing,” I say.
“I don’t believe you.” He leans down and gently holds my chin, staring deeply. “You’re mine, Elodie. Know that I’ll fucking destroy anyone who threatens your existence,” he promises softly.
My heart stutters at his words, and I find myself drowning in his presence. I consider telling him. About the flowers. About the notes. About Drake. I should be scared of Raiden and his blatant claim of me, but it only makes me want him more.
I turn my thoughts back to Drake. I don’t want Raiden on his radar. I don’t know the extent of violence Drake’s capable of. A confrontation would only make everything worse. Besides, I don’t want Raiden involved in my issues.
“It’s just been a long day.”
He studies me for another moment before giving a slow nod. “If you say so,” he says before pressing a lingering kiss to my bare shoulder. “Come upstairs with me, Freckles. Let’s have dinner.”
My insides clench at the name and the texture of his voice. I blink dazedly at him. “What?”
Raiden flashes me a wicked grin as he straightens. “You can keep me company while I cook dinner for us.”
“Okay.”
An hour later, we’re sharing dinner at the small dining table, while music plays quietly from a speaker on the kitchen counter. His apartment feels homey, not like the bachelor pad I expected.
“How did you learn to cook like this? I ask as I lift a forkful of pasta.
“I’ve been alone as long as I can remember. In my late teens, I quickly realized I didn’t want to live on takeout, so I learned.” He holds my gaze. “And I got better with years of practice.”
The conversation keeps flowing naturally. I ask how long he’s been tattooing.
“On and off for about twelve years.”
“You always wanted to do it?”
“No.”
“So, what changed?”
He leans back slightly. “I needed money in college, and it paid well. I discovered I was good at it. Then. I recruited the boys.” He smiles faintly.
“Really? How?” I ask, captivated by his sculpted face.
“River, Roman, Royal, and I worked in different tattoo shops while we were studying.”
“You all met in college?”
He nods. “We kept saying that one day we’d open our own place. Now, we have.” Something crosses his face and is gone before I can read it. “Sharpe, by the way. Since you never asked.”
“I did wonder.”
“I know.”
His gaze lingers on me for a moment. “What about you?”
“I always wanted to teach.” I smile. “My parents were teachers. I loved how they’d talk about their love for teaching, so I decided that I’d go the same route as them. And I’m glad they were alive to see me get admitted into college.”
He nods slowly, his gaze intent on me. “What happened?”
I take a slow breath. “A drunk driver hit them on their way home from a movie. They died on impact.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s fine. I miss them, but I can’t live my whole life feeling sad. That’s why I let Sarah talk me into getting the tattoo. It’s a way of me taking back my life,” I explain.
Raiden nods without saying a word. His silence offers me more comfort than anything.
He asks me something else, and I answer, but I couldn’t repeat it back to you.
My mind has narrowed to the way the lamplight catches the paleness of his blue eyes, the shadows pooling in the hollow of his throat, the ink curling up from beneath his collar.
He’s beautiful in a way that hurts, dangerous in a way that should terrify me, and I want him with an intensity that makes my insides tremble.