Chapter 13
Hyacinth
Mind-altering sex. A nap. More mind-blowing sex, including more of his tail. Breakfast eaten off my stomach. Feeding the fox kits and cleaning their pen. A shower and another nap.
These are now my favorite things. Well, put Sting at the top of that list—shirtless, wearing his cowboy hat, tail gleaming, dripping with venom.
When I wake from my second nap, I’ve got a message from Lily, saying she made it home safely, and that maybe I’m right about Patrick. I save thinking of my response for later. It’s late afternoon, my legs are a little sore, but I pad around barefoot looking for Sting.
He’s on the covered patio, shaded from the burning sun, still shirtless, painting with watercolors. Peeking over his shoulder takes my breath away. Is there anything this man can’t do?
“They’re all yours?” I realize that the paintings inside the house, in every room, are the same style.
He grunts a nod as he kisses me on the forehead.
I expect him to go back to painting, but after inhaling at the top of my head, he fully turns around to pull me into an embrace.
The kind that uses both arms and tail to keep me close.
Heat radiates off him, warming me to my core.
“How was your nap?” He asks after a minute, still not letting go.
“Satisfying, though—” I let my thought disappear into the ether. I don’t need to admit all my silly little thoughts.
“Though what?” he asks, tipping my chin up to look at him. His thumb holds my chin steady—no shirking this off. I shift feet then gulp air to help me. I expel it all in a rush with the words.
“Though I missed your body when I woke up. It felt…lonely.” With that admission, I put my face in my hands, fighting him a little as he tries to keep my eyes on his.
“You never need to feel embarrassed. You looked so peaceful, I figured you needed the rest. But I’m here to give you whatever you need.
Whatever you desire.” The low rumble of his chest vibrating against mine makes all my inhibitions melt.
Asking for what I need, what I want, is something I rarely do. Why is that?
Because asking for something might inconvenience someone else.
Yes, Lily, but really anyone. It’s so much easier to go with the flow.
But this is my life now. Staying here instead of going with Lily was a giant step for me.
I’m here, with this man who fascinates me and takes the idea of pleasure to a whole new level. Here, where it’s peaceful and tranquil.
So what do I need? What do I desire?
“I want more venom. More pleasure with you. And I want to feed the kits again.” I finish my request with a smile, hoping it makes my cheeks seem less red with embarrassment. It’s going to take a while to say these words without wanting to bury my head in the sand.
“That’s my girl. I can make all that happen.” And with that declaration, he kisses me with a deep resonant kiss that I feel all the way to my toes.
Our days are spent entangled. I help with the kits. We cook together. I finally get to see the distillery in action, and he teaches me to paint with watercolors…which ended up with us painting each other.
After time passes, Lily and I Facetime. It sounds like she’s found some stable ground to stand on for now, without Patrick.
I’m proud of her. When she asks when I’m coming home, I don’t have an answer.
“I want to stay with Sting. I—I think I love him,” I whisper at the phone, keeping a sharp eye on Lily’s response.
Her face is nothing but happiness for me, and the knowledge that I don’t have to fight about this huge fact of my life makes me so overjoyed with relief.
“I figured,” she says with all the authority of the sister who always knows everything—even though she doesn’t. “But what about your vet work? Won’t you be lonely?” I roll my eyes and shake my head vehemently no, even though the word lonely is a knife in my chest.
Thankfully, Lily needs to go, leaving me to chew my bottom lip as I ponder this next conversation I need to have with Sting.
How can I be happy here with no one around but him?
I want him more than anything else I’ve ever wanted, but I’m already missing pieces of my community—my co-workers, book club peeps, my favorite librarians.
Even just going out for a flat white at my favorite coffee shop.
I walk laps around the property, heading to the distillery and back, trying to take notice of the fresh growth on the cactus along the trail, but utterly devastated by my conclusion when I get back to the house, sweaty and dusty.
First, I need a shower.
Second, I can’t stay here. I wasn’t made to be a hermit’s mate.