Roman’s POV
Jason and Lucian prepared a feast for the five of us... or rather, for six now.
Lucian had cooked dishes so flavorful they made us wonder if this bastard had missed his calling. Maybe he should’ve been a chef at so five-star hotel instead of a drug maker or savage killer.
Imagine a man who can slit a throat without flinching, killing in cold blood as if it were a daily chore, and yet the sa man cooks like a seasoned family man. That combination didn’t make sense, but then again, that was Lucian. You could never guess what he’d surprise us with next.
"It’s ready," Lucian announced just as I stepped forward to help them set the table.
This ti, though, there was a difference. Instead of five, six plates were served—like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jason and Lucian placed each dish with practiced ease, setting them neatly across the dining table.
Lucian pushed one plate toward . "Go, feed this to that bitch."
I looked down at the plate full of beautifully arranged food, the aroma tempting even .
"Doesn’t look like sothing you’d make for soone you call a bitch," Rafe remarked as he dropped lazily into his seat.
"I call you a bitch and you’re still here eating my food," Lucian replied with a wicked smirk.
Rafe shot him a grin. "But a bitch with a pussy seems more interesting, doesn’t it?"
"I’m sure your ass is equally interesting," Lucian fired back.
"Not more than yours," Rafe returned without missing a beat.
The rest of us exhaled in collective defeat. Their banter could go on forever, neither of them ever getting tired of throwing jabs.
"You two can get the hell out of here and leave us to eat in peace," Kael warned, voice flat and firm.
As always, Kael to the rescue.
They went silent imdiately, and everyone took their seats. While I picked up the extra plate and headed toward the side house.
She didn’t refuse the food tonight either.
I left her alone once again and returned to the main house, where my brothers and I ate in peace, savoring the delicious al and expensive wine, talking late into the night.
When it was ti to sleep, I rose from my chair to return to the side house. At the sa ti Lucian slipped into his dark trench coat.
"Where are you going?" Kael asked him.
"You work during the day. My work begins at night," Lucian replied casually.
"Haven’t you two already taken care of everything?" I asked. "You should take a break tonight, after the good ti we had together."
"There’s no harm in checking things again," Lucian insisted, already eyeing the tablet left on the table. "Or do you want to sit here and watch you fuck that bitch on the cara feed tonight?"
"Of course. And I’ll make sure it’s better than the porn you used to jerk off to," I shot back and turned to leave. "Good night."
Jason stood up. "I’ll co with you."
"No need," Lucian declined without hesitation. "It’s just a minor check-round. I’m going alone."
Jason didn’t argue. It was clear Lucian wanted so ti by himself.
When I returned to the side house, she was already lying down. Maybe she was asleep, maybe not,
I didn’t want to disturb her. Quietly, I cleared the empty dishes from the small table, carried them into the compact kitchen, and left them in the sink.
The night before, I’d stayed with her in the main house, sleeping on the couch so I wouldn’t scare her. But tonight was different. She seed stable, calm. The bed in this room was large enough for two, and there was no reason for to sleep in the couch.
I turned off the light, leaving only the soft glow of the wall lamp casting golden shadows across the room. The silence was thick, broken only by the rustle of sheets as I climbed into bed.
Lying beside her, with nothing but inches between our bodies, my thoughts drifted to the past—those endless nights I had imagined her this close. To hold her. To feel her warmth against . To breathe her in.
And now that she was right here, within reach... but...
She lay on her side, back turned to , as if she were intentionally drawing a line I wasn’t ant to cross.
But I wasn’t a saint. Never claid to be.
If I couldn’t fuck her tonight, I could at least touch her... feel her the way I had always dread of.
I shifted closer, inch by inch, until my chest pressed softly against her back. My arm wrapped around her waist, slipping across her stomach, drawing her into . My nose brushed her neck, and I nuzzled her gently.
There was a trace of ointnt on her skin, but beneath it lingered that familiar scent I rembered so vividly.
Wildflowers and honey. Sweet and warm. Innocence threaded with quiet, hidden desire.
That was her. That had always been her.
I inhaled slowly, letting the scent cloud my thoughts. My lips grazed the back of her neck, and the soft contact stirred sothing inside that I had been holding back.
Just this much wasn’t enough.
"Eira," I whispered, my voice gravel and heat.
I didn’t expect her to answer. I knew she wouldn’t.
Still, I reached forward and gently turned her to face . Her eyes were open, staring at with that sa vacant, unreadable gaze.
I traced my fingers along her cheek, slow and careful, then let them slide to her lips. They were not soft, yet, but not bad enough to be left untouched. I brushed my thumb over them, leaning in until our mouths were a breath apart.
"Will you suffocate," I murmured, "if I kiss you? Just a little?"
Her hand moved.
Without a word, she unfastened the top buttons of her shirt to expose her chest, her other hand sliding the blanket off her legs. She bent her knees upward and parted her thighs, as she pulled the shirt up to her belly before turning her head toward the window, her gaze fixed on the night beyond the glass.
I froze, stunned by her sudden actions—until the aning sank in.
Damn it.
I clenched my jaw, heat and fury crawling up my spine.
She was offering herself to . Not with desire. Not with affection. Just an empty, practiced gesture. She was treating like a fucking client.
Co. Do it. Get it over with. Leave.
All I’d asked for was a kiss. A goddamn kiss. Was that too much?
She could’ve told to back off. But instead, she chose this... cruel, chanical response.
I grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at . Her skin was soft beneath my palm, but my grip was cold. My eyes locked onto hers, sharp with restrained rage.
"You so desperately want to fuck you, huh?" I snarled. "Can’t go a single night without your cunt being filled?"
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Her expression stayed hollow, as if my voice didn’t even reach her. Just those empty, soulless eyes holding mine.
I let go, the cold in my chest settling deeper than before. She wasn’t going to change. Not tonight.
Without another word, I pulled away from her and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"I always thought of kissing you. Wondered how it would feel," I murmured into the quiet. "Finally, tonight could’ve been our first... but you had to ruin it."
She turned her back to again, silent.
I stared at the curve of her spine, the fragile slope of her shoulder blades beneath the thin fabric.
What was she thinking now? Was there even anything left inside her to think with?
Would there ever co a day when she kissed willingly?
I wasn’t going to wait forever.
I’d fuck her once she healed. That much was certain.
But damn it, I still wanted her lips on mine. I wanted her to kiss willingly at least once.
User Comments
0 comments from readers