“Life is hard,” I say. “But other people have it worse.”
He strokes his thumb over my lips. “Was it hard working at Inferno?”
“Do you mean was there temptation? There’s always temptation. But I’ve learned…” I try to put my thoughts into words. “This… this moment is real. Even if it hurts, it’s worth the pain. The high was fake. And it didn’t last.”
He nods, and my heart beats faster with the feeling that he understands. “And there are other pleasures,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Like this.” He leans in and brushes his lips over mine. I crane my neck to get closer, wanting more.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So brave.”
The warmth in his voice is a deep pool I want to sink into. I want to hold him, to mold my body to his, to be so close to him that his warmth sinks into me and heals all my broken parts. I’ve spent so many years trying to hold myself together, and now here’s this man willing to wrap his strong arms around me and make a safe space for me so I can rest.
I would unbuckle my seatbelt and climb into his lap, but there’s a cop right there, so I say, “Take me home.”
He puts the Lykan in gear.
I stare at him the whole drive, memorizing the way the light and shadow slide over his features.
I don’t think twice about the fact that I called his penthouse ‘home.”
Jaeger
I lie in bed,Elodie drowsing in my arms. She’s naked, her short legs tangled with mine. I can’t stop running my hands over her soft skin. She has the sweetest freckles on her shoulders, and her plush thighs are dimpled and silky to the touch.
Her ankle is looking better. These past few days, she’s been able to rest and heal. I leave her as little as possible, but when duty calls, I know she’s safe and warm. I come home to her curled up on the couch under several layers of fluffy blankets, watching home renovation shows. A cozy bunny in her den.
She’s right where I want her. When she’s like this, comfortable and freshly fucked, she forgets to fight me, forgets herself, and relaxes into the moment. She’s content.
But I fear when she’s healed, she’ll decide it’s best for her to leave. I have to find new ways to trap her, to draw her down into my world.
There are several ways I could do this. I splay my hand over her plush belly. She’s gloriously round and soft now. What will she look like when I fill her with my baby? Atticus could easily sedate her and give her a fertility shot. I file that away as a later option. There might be an easier way.
In recent days, she’s opened up to me, telling me about her past. She thought she would scare me off. She doesn’t know me if she thinks I’ll scare easily. I would kill for her. Going to a meeting and supporting her recovery is the least I can do.
But she still fears my lifestyle. My brothers. Fraternitas. I must show her there’s a place for her. In my bed, as my woman.At my side, spoiled as my sweet pet. Kneeling at my feet, wearing my collar.
I will introduce her to my brothers and fight for them to accept her. And then I will teach her where she belongs.
Elodie
“I have an errand,”Jaeger tells me.
I’ve been sitting on the couch, scrolling social media on my phone with rom-coms playing in the background. I think about reaching out to friends from school, but it feels like my old life. When I read a few of their posts gushing over “Professor Roylin’s brilliant lecture,” my stomach got tight, and I deleted the app.
So when Jaeger insists I accompany him on this errand, I’m glad to get out of the penthouse.
He drives through the city, weaving through the high rises of midtown until the grand spires of a cathedral appear. St. Xavier’s. I recognize the shining, white stone and the grand church steps.
I expect Jaeger to illegally park right in front of it like he always does, but he turns into a small side parking lot with a wheelchair ramp entrance.
As Jaeger carries me in, the bells in the tower begin to toll. The place is hushed and smells clean, with a faint whiff of smoke and spices from the incense. He heads deep into the church, crossing a checkered marble floor and a line of white columns to enter the cavernous sanctuary.
My mouth falls open at the soaring high ceilings and gothic windows. I wasn’t raised Catholic, so I have no idea what scenes are depicted in the jewel-toned stained glass, but small goldenplaques underneath announce the “Stations of the Cross.” In between the windows are a series of stone alcoves, each one with a different white marble statue. The place is opulent, far more than I realized. Maybe a lot of wealthy people attend church here, and the parish uses their donations to decorate, as well as run the school and orphanage.
There’s no one here now. I haven’t seen a hint of a single person. The quiet has a weight to it, and I clamp my lips shut, unwilling to disturb the sacred silence.
