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I still need to try…

“Even if I work for you? I could just be a member of your staff.”

“You might be quiet, well-behaved, and able to move about unnoticed by the majority. But your name screams at us on paper; you’re too important to be just a member of our staff.” He taps on the packet, “If you’d like to stay, I need this back on my desk by the end of the week.”

Slipping into the chair opposite Alistair, I grab the pen and start filling out the form.

“Decide that fast?” I look up, his gray eyes that match Cain’s somehow look completely different. Alistair smiles from ear to ear, his eyes like a shadow in the fog.

“I don’t have time to waste. May I finish this here?”

“By all means.” He waves his hand, palm up, over the form. Leaning back, he set his ankle over his knee, watching me while I fill out my information.

And sign on the dotted line.

~ Violet Rosalie Daily

Cain

Chapter 21

I am not in the mood.

Not in the mood to work. Not in the mood to socialize. Dean offered me a coffee this morning, and I told him to fuck off and get me a shot instead. Alcohol in the morning isn’t usually my thing. Alcohol in general isn’t something I ever indulge in, but after the last night and this godforsaken wake-up call, I could down a bottle and indulge in the burn of whiskey.

I can’t get wasted, though. I need to fix things, and I need to fix things before I leave in two weeks.

I held onto Violet for hours. Refusing to let her go, to let her leave. No dinner, nothing. I brought her into my bed and wrapped myself around her like she was the only thing holding me together. My biggest mistake was falling asleep. Because when I woke up, she was gone. Checked her room, gone. My inner monster reared its ugly head, and I punched three holes in the wall.

If this is how Violet felt every morning that she woke up without me, I truly am a monster.

I practically burst through the door of the forge. The fire crackles, heat hitting me in waves as I walk to the aprons. Dahlia’s standing by the fire, wearing baggy canvas pants, a hoodie, and an apron, working on some new horseshoes for the town horses.

After tying my apron, I grab a pair of gloves. Then I go to our supplies, grab all the rebars I can carry, and throw them in the fire. Sparks and ashes fly, and Dahlia does a dramatic cough, waving the assaulting heat away from her face.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” I shoot her a look, staring down at her little frame that I could snap over my knee. “Oh-” She purses her lips together, locking them with a pretend key, and then throws said pretend key in the fire. Grabbing my tongs, I shift the metal and coals to better placements. “What’s the rebar for, anyway? I don’t recall any commissions with it.”

“This is a personal project…”

We work in silence, and hours pass on, mesmerized by the flickers shooting through the coals. Meditating while I work. Although I don’t think most would classify a kidnapping plot as meditation. Two months out. This last deployment is only two months. Then I’ll be back, grab Violet, and hide her until all threats are eliminated. Until then, I can’t have her go anywhere. Not to another place, not to another person.

One thousand nine hundred degrees to get the sun-kissed orange hue I’m searching for.

Heat, mallet, bend, repeat.

Heat, mallet, and weld.

There’s no time to focus on the details, no creative structure, no delicate engravings. I just need to get this done.

“A cage?” Dahlia questions when I stop for the first time.

“Yes. My new bedframe.” She slowly turns her head to face me, head tilted, and brow pinched together. But I don’t move my gaze from my work. It’s perfect. Dahlia is right to be skeptical. The inlay for the mattress sits over a functioning cage, vertical bars only, with a locking door where the foot of the bed will be.

“Why the cage?”

“For my pet. My Kitten.”

My heart jumps, imagining Violet locked beneath me with nowhere to go, silent, hidden from the world. I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t turn me on. I’ve always had the desire to keep her to myself. She may not like it, but she’ll be my good girl, she’ll be patient. And once the threats are gone, I can fuck her in the streets if I want to. To show everyone who she belongs to.