“Good point,” I say, then drop the cuffs to the hardwood floor.
The metal hits the floor with aclank.
Her shoulders sag just enough that I can’t miss it. From relief, maybe, or just frustration that she can never expect my next move. Then again, as I gesture for her to lie down before I join her on her bed, maybe she can.
I curl around Noelle, one arm heavy over her thick waist, my chin resting against her gorgeous red hair. She’s stiff at first, then slowly,reluctantly, she settles against me.
I knew she’d fall asleep before me. Ever since I went from Patrick to Saint, showing her who I really was, she’s been on edge. I don’t blame her, either. Intime, she’ll relax, though being constantly on guard has got to be exhausting. Add that to the way I worked her body all Christmas Eve… oh, yes. I expected her to fall asleep.
What I didn’t expect? Was for my Starling to use my own handcuffs against me.
I don’t know when I finally passed out. I’m usually a light sleeper, but wrapped around Noelle, I guess I allowed myself the pleasure of actually resting for once. I know her too well to think she’d ever attack me in my sleep—not when she wrote a wish list to air her grievances against the pricks who hurt her instead of getting revenge on her own—but I underestimated how crafty Noelle is.
Because, when I finally wake up on Christmas morning, my arm is stretched over my head. A heavy weight is on my wrist, the metal cuff biting just enough into my flesh for it to be noticeable.
Blinking my eyes open against the morning sunlight, I can see that I’ve been cuffed to the wire-wrought headboard.
I can’t help it. I smile in pride at Noelle’s cunning.
Carefully, and as quietly as I can, I roll onto my side and test the restraint. It’s solid and snug, though she didn’t purposely cut off my circulation or anything. So long as she didn’t think to escape me while I was trapped myself, I’ll forgive her for trying to get some sort of revenge against me.
Well, no. She’s my Starling. I’ll forgive her anything, even if I might have to teach her another lesson in obedience first…
The idea that I might be missing Noelle for Christmas freezes the smile on my face. I have to find her. I have toseeher. And since I’d purposely left the key to the handcuffs back in my suitcase in my room, there’s only one way for me to accomplish that.
Biting down on the corner of the nearest pillow, I dislocate my wrist without a sound, slip it free from the cuff, then quickly reset the joint with a muted pop before cursing under my breath. It’s nowhere near the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, and considering the thought that Noelle took off without me hurts me even more, I’m over the discomfort in my wrist by the time I’m bounding out of the room, searching for her.
I don’t have far to go. Once I reach the living room, I find her standing in front of the large front window, wrapped in a blanket.
She glances over her shoulder at me. “It snowed again overnight,” she says conversationally as though she didn’t leave me cuffed to the bed. “We have a white Christmas.”
“Is that why you’re still here?” I ask.
Noelle shrugs. “I still don’t have my keys.” She glances down at my quickly swelling wrist. I don’t think she notices the slight injury, though, because shewrinkles her nose before adding, “Looks like you found the one for the handcuffs, though.”
“Nope,” I tell her, popping the ‘p’ almost as loudly as the joint in my wrist popped as I was putting it back into place. “I had to dislocate my wrist to slip it out of the cuff. Thanks for not making it too tight, sweetheart. I don’t think I could’ve otherwise.”
Her eyes go big and wide and, fuck me,beautiful.“Holy shit. You really are insane, aren’t you?”
“You just figuring that out?”
She shakes her head. “No. I… no. But it’s Christmas, Patrick. Please… I don’t want to play your games today.”
If I’m playing, I’m playing for keeps—and though there’s a soft, exhausted plea to her voice, that’s not going to stop me.
Not yet.
I shush her softly, trying to make the noise as soothing as I can. Walking over to Noelle, I brace my hands on her shoulders, guiding her over to the Christmas tree; she stiffens momentarily, releasing the tension almost immediately as though finally understanding that it’s pointless to resist me. As always, the twinkling white lights are on, reflecting against the silver foil wrapping paper of the gifts I tucked under it yesterday morning.
“It’s Christmas,” I agree. “So why don’t you open your presents?”
“I don’t think?—”
I grab a large rectangular package. “This one first, Starling.”
She thins her lush lips, prepared to fight me on this.
I gentle my tone. “Please. Like you said, it’s Christmas. And you might not have known me before the twenty-second, but I’ve been fucking obsessed with you for over a year. I cleared your wish list, but I count that as last year’s present, Noelle. These are for you this Christmas. Humor me, okay? Open it.”
