“Thanks. I… it means a lot.” But when I try to pull him up, he won’t let me and instead slides one leg forward, no doubt wanting to rise on his own.
But he stays down, gaze pinned to my face as if he’s never seen anything more precious. “You gave me something I stopped hoping for, Dalton. When I’m with you, my life has depth, and color, and I no longer focus on my guilt. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. Will you let me make amends?” he asks, plucking something out of his pocket. The bright light coming in through the window hits the small diamond embedded in the thick golden band just right, and I stop breathing.
“Will you be my family? My home?” Corvus asks, squeezing my hand.
The wedding was meant to be a formality to let us get to know each other better, but now it feels real. As if he’s going to mean his vows when he makes them.
My heart has been thrown in the trash and stomped on so many times, yet here I am, ready to give it away again. Have I finally met the match for my brand of fucked-up?
It feels surreal to nod and watch him slide a ring on my finger. Never in a million years did I think someone would care for me enough. I’ve had fantasies of being the one who proposes, and then nightmares about being rejected. This? This is the dream.
“I will always prove to you that you can trust me.” I never want him to regret this proposal.
Corvus brightens, a beacon of pure joy as he kisses my big, calloused hand. “This ring was my father’s. It’s only fitting that the most important man in my life wears it.”
My eyes prickle, and I force him up so I can hug him. “Stop it! I’m gonna fucking cry and give you the ick.”
Corvus stumbles straight into my arms and chuckles. “As long as they’re the good tears, I have nothing against that. You’re such a teddy bear…”
I snort, glancing at the ring on my finger, the proof that I belong to him. “The guys from yesterday would beg to differ,” I say defensively as I sniff and hug him tighter.
“They’re dead, so their opinions don’t really count,” Corvus tells me and rests his head on my chest, one hand sliding into my hair as he listens to my heartbeat. “You’re always sweet to me.”
I take a deep breath of his spicy cologne and kiss his head before pulling him along. “Come on then, let me be sweet to you.”
Chapter 30
Corvus
Dalton’splaceisadump. The only time I ever visit apartments like this is to capture or question some lowlife down on his luck, but this… this bachelor pad from hell is where Dalton spent last night.
The trash scattered over counters doesn’t feel like messiness but rather like a naturally-occurring sediment, sand brought in by the tide. As if a place this run-down couldn’t possibly exist without a pile of empty pizza boxes in the corner, or the tiny shower stall tucked by the kitchenette.
In the bitterly cold apartment, the king-sized mattress resting on the bare floor looks almost inviting. It is one of those places a man might leave utterly wrecked, then roll off onto the floor, cover himself with a garment from the pile right next to the bed, and then proceed to his walk of shame. A place for the fuck of a lifetime you’d tell no one about.
We could continue our conversation someplace more comfortable, but I don’t want to let go of his hand or wait twenty minutes until Iget to feel his skin against mine. I want to be with him, and it doesn’t matter where.
“I missed you,” I tell him, pushing one hand under his T-shirt. He’s mine. The ring on his finger tells me so, and I’ll make sure he always feels worthy of me.
Dalton gives me a soft kiss. “I wanna tease you that it’s only been a day, but I really had a rough time. It feels like someone took a scalpel and cut you away from me.” He hastily adjusts the comforter before we sit on it. “I’m sorry, it’s so messy. I just didn’t think… Dad did always tell me I’m only good at fighting. Exes did say I’m a good lay, but no one’s ever mentioned cleaning, I’m afraid.”
The apologetic smile he offers does something to my chest, and I pull him close to kiss his lips. “Stop apologizing. Your exes don’t matter anymore, and neither does anything they had to say. And don’t even start me on your bastard father,” I add, because that man sickens me so deeply I would have gladly played with him in my dungeon, if he wasn’t already dead.
The relationship I had with my own father was difficult and strained, but he cared for me more than he cared for his own life. Dalton didn’t have that, but if he lets me, I will show him there’s so much more to him than he’s been taught.
Emotion wells up inside me, until I’m too confused to dress it up in adequate words. But he’s still watching me, waiting, so I blurt out, “I just want you back with me, so I can feel again.”
Dalton’s eyes soften and he pulls my legs over his lap. “Oh yeah? How do I make you feel?”
I stall, air trapped at the back of my throat as he peels back the layers I use for protection and sees the real me underneath. He’s always beenso understanding, never judged me for the things I like in bed, never told anyone. With him… I feel safe.
“You make me feel like I deserve more than the life everyone expects of me. I’ve always been ashamed of my secret, the secret that killed my father,” I whisper, playing with his fingers. “But you always just took me the way I am, and never teased me.”
There’s such comfort and safety in his touch, so when he pulls me closer, I yield without question. “Because the real you is the man I fell for.” He kisses my cheek, his skin and hair soaked with the familiar notes of cigarette smoke and the perfume I composed for him while I was still in denial about my feelings. He must have used it today, even though we parted in such a bitter way. “I love it when you lose yourself.”
My heart flutters, as if I am that dumb teenager again, ready to have the tiniest sample of what love might feel like, but this time I’m not in danger. He’s not here to hunt me down. Daltoncares for meand offers me so much more than just the fleeting taste of lust masquerading as affection. I open my mouth to tell him he has my trust when my gaze strays to a shining bit of metal resting on the floor by the mattress.
Handcuffs. And not the flimsy sex shop kind with pink fur.
