Chapter Forty-Four
Getting into the car was far harder than Verity expected. She could hear the brass band serenading the festival-goers, completely unaware of the life-altering deal that had just been struck.
Soon, reports about Cliffhaven would spread.
The people in the market square — singing, dancing, hunting for eggs and weaving flower crowns — would learn the depth of Cliffhaven's plight.
But for now, they had joy, and that knowledge ached in Verity even as she shook, the shock of everything finally settling. The pain, the death, the decision.
Theo hadn’t questioned her when she told him she’d agreed to go to Cliffhaven. That it was now their responsibility to repair the wrongs. Petra had given her a choice, and Theo hadn’t even asked about the other option, trusting her to choose the right thing to do.
Under any other circumstances, Verity would have refused to be fragile.
She would have refused to let him scoop her into his arms to carry but she didn’t know how much farther she could walk.
Stella was waiting with the car, having fetched it the moment Petra left and Theo was allowed back in. She winced at the sight of Verity.
“Well,” she said. “At least you’re not dead.”
No, Verity thought. Death would hurt less than this.
Once Theo had folded her into the passenger seat, he climbed in after her and leaned across to clip her seatbelt. She noticed the blood on his collar again, the cut still open on his cheek.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow, checked his reflection in the mirror as if he’d forgotten. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said, and kissed her cheek, soft and gentle.
The ride home was the slowest he’d ever driven.
He helped her into the building, telling the doorman he’d lost his keys, again.
Verity realised, with a pang of sadness, that the place she’d only just begun to think of as home wouldn’t be her home for much longer.
She’d barely had the chance to settle. There would be a new home, one they would make together.
Though Verity had no idea what shape it would take considering their reason for going.
There would be time to think about what waited for them in Cliffhaven later. Right now, she needed rest.
Theo apparently disagreed with the rest part, at least at first.
He ran her a bath, settling her into the warm water and cleaning her carefully despite her insistence that she could manage.
Slowly her body relaxed, shakes subsiding, warmth returning to her bones.
He washed the graze on her cheek, his hands gentle over the ribs she was fairly sure were only bruised.
She hoped, at least. He found painkillers from somewhere and held them out to her as he knelt by the tub.
“Would you like a drop of blood?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “We shouldn’t.”
“I know. But it would help you heal. Just this once. Never again.”
She considered it, just a drop, just for the ribs, the scrapes, the ache, and shook her head anyway. “I’ll survive.”
He nodded, accepting it without argument.
She told him about Chloe, about her fear for her sister, about risking everything to free Verity.
Theo promised to check with Abe, to make sure both girls were safe, all while he washed her, steam curling around them, the water turning his shirt see through.
The conversation came in fragments, neither of them able to concentrate through the exhaustion.
When he lifted her out of the bath and sat her on his lap to dry her, she clung to him, running her thumb along his jaw.
“Silver,” she said, noticing the cut still hadn’t closed. “Drink.”
He laughed. “You want me to feed right now?”
“Please,” she said, wriggling slightly. He only smiled, brushing a finger across her lips before kissing her, slow, deep. There was no urgency behind it. He didn’t push for anything more, entirely content just to hold her.
However, tonight she had faced death. She needed to feel alive. Needed to feel Theo, the man who was going to change her life. Who had changed her life. The man who agreed to her plan to threaten Petra, even though Jesse said that it was insane.
She needed him as she deepened the kiss, and he started growling. She knew that he could smell exactly how much she needed him.
“Angel,” he murmured in warming, but she shook her head, taking his hand and gliding it up her leg. The painkillers were kicking in enough to take the edge off, but when his hand moved higher and her fingers found his hair, the pain became secondary.
She moaned when he touched her, carefully, a slow, unrushed slide through her pooling heat. When she leaned back, lying on the bed, and pulling him on top of her, he let her. Let her undo his belt, let her stroke the bulge she found before stopping her when she tried to free him.
When he shook his head, she whined. His lips left her, trailing kisses down her neck, over her breasts.
He kissed her bruised ribs, making her gasp.
Then lower and lower, lifting her knees and spreading her legs to leave her bare before him.
The first flick of his tongue to her aching core was electric.
She whimpered when her back arched, spreading pain and bliss through her body.
He sucked gently, swirling his tongue before lapping at her entrance.
When he slipped a finger inside her, instantly finding her sweet spot, she gasped, fisting the sheets as his tongue and fingers moved in unison.
The feather soft scrape of his fangs over the sensitive skin brought a sob to her lips, the sounds mingling with his steady purr.
Every time they had been together it had felt urgent.
A stolen moment amid chaos. It still felt like chaos, but Theo took his time coaxing her orgasm until no sensation existed except the meeting of their skin.
She whimpered when her body contorted in bliss and Theo continued, dragging her climax out longer than she thought possible.
When he rose over her, kissing her neck as she panted for breath, mind spinning, she grabbed him. “I love you,” she whispered, and he smirked, knowing that she wasn’t about to let him go.
“I love you too,” he said before slowly pushing into her.
Verity would not have understood how it was possible to make love carefully if she hadn’t experienced it.
The way he palmed her ribs as if to protect them.
His long, deep strokes, finding the angle that made Verity’s toes curl rather than driving her to bliss with fast, hard thrusts.
How he watched her, eyes dark with lust, bowed with need, but still making sure she was okay.
They felt each other’s bodies, reminding themselves they were alive, declaring their love until his fingers tightened around her thigh and he came, crying out her name before nestling her in his arms.
He never let go of her ribs, even as they fell asleep in each other’s arms and light peeked around the curtain announcing the morning of a brand-new day.