Chapter 43
forty-three
A little weepy. Sore and aching, I press the heating pad to my belly. Stupid period. It’s been years since I’ve had a real one, and now I remember exactly how awful they are.
“Want the chef to make something?” Mom asks, sweeping my hair from my forehead. I think she’s trying to make up for everything by being extra attentive. Though she’s always been soothing when I’m sick.
I’ll take it.
“Yeah. I want grilled cheese and one of the lava cakes he makes so well.”
“With the dark cherries on top?”
I nod, and she tucks the blankets to my chin as I settle into my bed, bringing the tablet up to my chest. Headphones on, tea steaming on the bedside table, I try to relax.
But the thoughts keep circling.
Was he serious about returning for me? It’s been hours, and I haven’t heard from him. Is he done?
Is he okay?
That thought makes my chest ache the most. What if he’s hurt? Or…dead.
I can’t deal with that.
The mirror trembles with a faint clink. Probably the tray. I slip off an earcup. Silence. As I put them back on, the sound happens again. And it rattles the back door.
Is it him?
Or Talon—
That thought has me scrambling to grab my gun from my nightstand and aiming at the back door.
The latch on the handle slides up, and the door opens, covered by my white sheers.
A haunting figure, draped in ghost-like fabric, emerges with its arms held in front.
As if feeling its way through the darkness of my room.
It stumbles over the threshold and yells, “Ow, fucking hell.”
I flick on the lamp. “You could’ve called from the guard tower, asshole.”
Aiden hobbles on one foot, rubbing his shin. He’s got those football black ink stains under his eyes. Black gloves, jacket, jeans, boots… Like he’s returning from a jewelry heist.
“Get the fuck out of bed, Ashlyn. We’re going home.”
“No. I feel like trash. And you only ‘bought’ me so you could sabotage the casino.”
His fierce expression softens for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
“My period. Because you ripped out my birth control.” Quieter, because I see the shock and the worry: “It hurts.”
He gives one nod, then advances toward the bed, scoops me into his arms, blanket and all. “Keep hold of that.”
I snag the tablet and headphones. “Where are we going?”
“To prove how much I love you.” His hips sway as he carries me. A kiss to my forehead, a whisper against my skin. “And how much you’re mine.”
Dad’s in his office downstairs, and that’s where Aiden aims.
When he enters, Dad stands abruptly and grabs his shotgun. But Aiden simply sets me gently on the chaise lounge by the window. He strolls straight to my father and snaps his finger at his monitor.
“Check your shares.”
Confused, Dad eyes him for a moment, then punches some numbers on his keyboard. The silence stretches. My father’s fingers hover over the keyboard.
“You’re selling them to me?”
“No,” Aiden says, voice even. “I’m giving them to you. As we already discussed. The shares were the bargaining chip I needed to make you comply.”
Dad sets down the gun on the chair as Aiden pulls out a piece of parchment from his jacket. He slams it on the desk.
“Ashlyn Iyla Donovan has been appointed to Aiden Isaac Cardell. Signed by the president and you.”
My heart races. On shaky legs, I stand and wander closer, letting the blanket hit the floor. Aiden faces me, arms at his sides, as if expecting me to hit him or hug him.
“Officially?” Voice quivering with emotion, I ask, “Really?”
“Yes, baby. I told you I’d do everything to make you mine.”
The words used to sound like a threat.
Tonight, they sound like a vow.
Before I can throw myself into his arms, he reaches into his pocket and catches my wrist, tugging me closer.
When he opens his hand, something glints in his palm.
“Your pin.”
He attaches it to my old T-shirt and stands back with pride. “You’ve got my ring. My tattoo. And now my Theta pin. Do you understand now? I love you. And I always have.”
Tears burst from my eyes. It’s done. It’s officially over.
I’m not sure if I move or he does, but I’m in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, face buried in his neck. Fingers stroking his hair. His heartbeat easing my aches as it thumps against my chest.
“And I’m taking you home now.”
“Do you all want the cake?” Mom asks from the door, holding out a tray.
Dad looks slightly sad. His blue eyes glisten as he nods at us.
“We’ll get it to go,” I tell her, and she smiles, then heads to the kitchen.
“Talon could show up. Do you need extra guards, or—” Dad asks Aiden with sincerity.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan. I don’t trust them. And they need to stay more alert.”
My father balks, then quickly closes his mouth. He juts his hand out toward Aiden, who shakes it. “Then, take care of her.”
“I will. She’s my life.” Aiden squeezes me tighter. “My world.”
“And mine, too,” Dad says.
Aiden glances at the blanket puddled behind me. “Great. Then…can I borrow your Escalade? I only have my bike.”
He carries me through the cold to the garage like I weigh nothing, wrapping the blanket tighter around me.
The night smells of pine and incoming snow as he loads me into the SUV, and for the first time, the word home feels real. As if I’m a child, he tucks everything around me tight. Sets the tray of food and my belongings close. Situates my big water cup in the center holder.
He notices my amused stare and smiles. Before he shuts my door, he snaps the seatbelt around me. “There. All comfy?”
I nod and giggle. Suddenly, the cramps ease their grip on my uterus.
Especially when he taps a peck on the end of my nose.
When he gets behind the wheel, he doesn’t hesitate to take my hand in his and scan my body once before heading out toward our place.
I’m half asleep, but the lights flickering on as he pulls into the circular drive wakes me. The house glows through the tall, shadowed trees like something holy. Welcoming us warmly.
“Home,” he says simply. And it settles deep inside me until I feel safe.
Inside, he carries me upstairs without asking, ignoring my half-hearted protests.
“I can walk,” I grumble into his neck.
“You could,” he says, setting me gently on the bed. “But I’m taking care of you. You’re not doing anything until I make sure you’re comfortable and warm.”
He disappears for a moment and comes back with a heating pad, water, and a feast. With ardent flourishes, he sets up the tray that my mom sent with us.
Grilled cheese in tinfoil. Lava cakes steaming with dark chocolate and cherry ganache.
Then there’s pizza, chips, popcorn, Sweet Tarts, sodas, and different flavored salted nuts.
Like Aiden never eats junk food, and now he’s got a reason to unleash himself from the restraints of self-discipline.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know. But I’m an overachiever.”
I bite back a laugh. “You’re also bad at portion control. That’s enough for three people.”
“Two,” he counters, flopping down next to me, already eating the chips and snagging one of the sandwiches. “Well,” he adds with a mouth full, “me and a little bit of you.” Like he’s afraid the blanket might fight back, he tucks me in. “Need anything else, my baby?”
“Maybe the remote?”
Without hesitation, he passes it, even though he hates everything I watch. The TV takes up a large portion of the far wall, and when the trashy reality show theme song starts, he groans.
“Seriously?”
“It’s therapeutic.”
“For who, the producers?”
“Shh,” I scold, curling into his side. “Let me rot in peace.”
When I go for my tea, he reaches over me to grab it first, testing the temperature like I’m made of porcelain.
“Too hot,” he warns.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Leaning back, he grows quiet. “But will you tell me?”
Everywhere inside me surges with longing. “Tell you what?” But I know what he’s getting at.
Facing me, he bashfully blinks. “You know what, demoness. Tell me.”
I brush his hair off his forehead and smile. “I love you, Aiden.”
His thumb collects a wayward tear that escaped with my grin of joy. Hesitant breath and careful movement, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. It makes my heart flutter. He draws back enough to whisper, “I love you more.”
“Aiden, I wanted this. This is it. Right here.”
“No. Not right here.” He shifts until he tugs me up into the crook of his arm. My head rests against his pec, but I’m still able to see the screen. He holds my mug and gives me sips of tea. Then follows it with some snacks for me to nibble on as he finishes whatever I didn’t in one big bite.
“Right here,” he says with his mouth full. Pizza crumbs dusting us both.
It’s comfortable. And I can’t help but remember all those diary entries I made about my crush from Crest and how I wish we could have done this forever.
Now, we’ll get to.
By the second episode, he’s stopped pretending not to care. He comments on the contestants’ stupidity, plays judge and jury from the other side of the bed, and even shouts at the screen once when someone picks the wrong guy.
“You’re way too invested,” I murmur through a smile.
“I’m not,” he lies. “But this idiot ruined a perfect alliance!”
Somewhere between laughter and the low thrum of the credits, sleep steals me. The last thing I remember is his heartbeat under my ear and the comfort of his hand tracing lazy circles down my back.
And it’s everything I ever wanted. Or thought I did… Until I wake the next morning.