89. I'll Spend The Rest Of My Life Making It Up To You
A lot of things happened while I was... out. And a lot of them I didn't understand, so Ace made it his job to catch me up on those as a part of his apology. It had been weeks since that apology but that's how long it took to explain all the mess that had happened.
He didn't go into detail about the relationship between his mother and Theo's biological father, Christos, but he told me enough to understand.
The lunatic took me while I was unconscious, then Ace's mother and Cin- Anna. Anna and me weren't very important to him, and he had no clue what was happening to me but I seemed important so he took us as some sort of sick entertainment, to force Karen to stay longer than she would've if he'd just taken her. Apparently, he still has some twisted connection to her, no one can explain that.
He's still slightly limping around the mansion with that cane he clearly doesn't need anymore and taunting everyone with his presence. I wouldn't be surprised if he was faking it. Even I want to rip him to shreds sometimes. But he's been spending time with Theo. Surprisingly, the boy wasn't too difficult and they spend a decent amount of time together. Mostly going for walks or having dinner together to talk, bonding, and all that.
Ace thinks Theo's being a lot more willing so he doesn't have to fend off Cindy- Anna every other minute. Him feeding from her, in the midst of chaos, had brought on some sort of intimate connection that somehow intensified after she was resurrected. It has to do with her blood being in his system and whatever she felt during the process. Ace didn't elaborate on that.
Anna's a little bitch. All black-haired and red lipstick smirks and irritating. She knows it too, because she turns those daunting looks on me when I turn my growl on her antics. More than thrice I've been dragged out of the same room she was in, sometimes even out of the house, just so I didn't slip my hands around her neck and my claws accidentally puncture her jugular. Apparently, I was a lot like her when I'd first gotten here. I don't see it.
On the bright side, she hasn't been on my case for a few days now. Haven't seen her much actually. I don't know if I should be worried about that.
"What about Jule Jule, then?" I asked.
Ace's chest rumbled with laughter beneath my head. His face lit up and so did my insides.
"That's a new one," he said, still shaking with humor. His hand ran up my arm until his fingers tangled in the thin strap of my nightgown. I stopped breathing to stop from shivering because the latter would be more embarrassing.
It was very early, as in the birds hadn't even started chirping yet, but the first sign of sunrise was shining through the tops of the endless mountains of trees through the open balcony doors.
We stayed up all night talking. Talked about everything and everyone, as much as he'd tell me anyway. There were still some secrets that he'd rather I hear from the source, but I wasn't sure that'll ever happen since I don't care that much to ask. The thought of not knowing doesn't bother me though.
Ace tilted his chin, moving his smile from the ceiling and down to me. He's laying on his back and I'm practically on top of him with my chin settled on his chest.
He hummed and looked at the ceiling again. The vibrations that sound sent out made everything inside me thrum.
"He's trying," Ace said finally, "to get to her, that is. He didn't take the whole mating thing easily at first. But I see where he's coming from—he lost his wife almost two decades ago and he's been single ever since. So it must be weird... being mated to someone you've met when they were a child." He grimaced.
My mind blanked as I stared at his throat. "Well, when you put it like that..."
He let out a breathy chuckle. "I don't know what will happen honestly. With how much Anna's changed and he's been thinking a lot. He's only stayed this long to help rebuild and make sure she's all right."
The way he's saying it didn't sound optimistic. It sounded like there was goodbye in there somewhere. I didn't know how to feel about it. I wasn't obligated to feel anything and if I did, it certainly wouldn't be for Julien's benefit.
I chewed on the inside of my jaw. "Will they be okay?"
Ace looked down at me again, eyes softening more than they already were. He uses a finger to shift away a few stray strands of hair that curled around my face. "They're grown, they'll figure it out. It's not up to us to mend romantic relationships that aren't our own. As much as we want to."
I blinked at him, raising my eyebrows. "I didn't say I wanted to." His lips twitched and his eyes followed his fingers into my hair. "It's just- y'know with the mating bond and everything." I shrugged, leaning into the way his fingertips caressed the side of my face. Heat and warmth traveled from my head to my toes.
He hummed, distracted. "It'll be difficult but it's manageable." I thought he would end his statement there, but I was forced to shift back when he began to readjust. Ace shifted down the bed while pulling me up to him until we were both laying on our sides, impossibly close, and staring into each other's eyes.
"You know why it's so hard to resist a mate," he retorted, "it's less about the bond at first and more about," he pauses, eyes shaking as he searched for the right words, "proximity." He smiled then, mischievous, as he rubbed his leg against mine.
I couldn't help my giddy grin as threw my leg over his thigh and pushed myself closer. "Is it?"
Chuckling, he shifted his hand that was firmly on my hip to run up my back. He made lazy circles from the top of my spine to the bottom. "The bond only gets stronger the more time someone spends with their mate to the point where it's almost impossible to be without them. But in the beginning, it's fairly easy to walk away if so many of us weren't so obsessed with the thought of having that connection."
I guess he wasn't wrong. I didn't think it would've been hard for me to walk away from him when I'd met him months ago, before I knew he'd been important to me long before then.
I nodded, staring at my hand resting on his chest. I traced the same circles on his silky top that he drew against my back. "I get that. You were an asshole, you're lucky I didn't have anywhere else to go."
I don't know what I expected from him, but it wasn't to feel his soft lips pressing against my eyebrow, then the space between my eyes, the tip of my nose. I tilted my face toward his mouth, my eyes closed as I gave into the tingles and warmth that wrapped me in the coziest invisible blanket.
When Ace spoke, his lips brushed against my cheek, making blood rush there. It burned in the best way.
"And I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you," he said, his voice soft and feathery and gruff "Mrs. Killian Frazier."
Weeks ago, when I'd confirmed that I felt one hundred percent healed, Ace suggested we started working out together. I could work off some pent-up tension I supposedly had, but also get back in shape since I'd been mostly bedridden for a few weeks.
I wasn't upset by it, so we started doing that. Only we never used the indoor gym. Rather, we'd get up before sunrise and head out back to stretch on the lawn before disappearing into the trees. We ran for miles. We didn't shift. I know I couldn't—I wasn't ready, nor was I sure what would happen if I did.
We just ran until we heard running water. Then we'd stretch some more and sometimes go for a swim. I still wasn't entirely comfortable swimming in a river that had human-fish people that I could somehow always knew were there. They hid well, but I can always feel their dark-slitted eyes on us.
We'd wait until the sun rose fully before heading back home.
"Do you think you'll be able to shift any time soon?" Ace asked as we were lounging on the lawn doing light stretches after our run.
I paused to look at him. He expected my lack of response because he didn't look at me when he continued.
"It helps when you keep active, clear your mind... most of the things we've been doing."
I still didn't respond. It took him a few more seconds to meet my gaze, but there was nothing in his eyes or expression that seemed like he was gonna be a pain in the ass about it. Nothing I disliked.
"It doesn't have to be tomorrow or next week, Syl," he said softly, leaning toward me. "but it can't be forever."
I understood without him having to say it. I felt his worry and the underlying anxiety. So I nodded and muttered, "I know. I don't plan on doing that again."
We stared at each other then, feeling and understanding without touching. And I didn't lie, I didn't plan on lying to him again. At least not for a long time for something that affected our lives.
What had happened to me, his mother had told me, was because of years of burying something powerful—repressing it so much that all it needed was one crack, a slip, and it would shatter and take me with it. It might have been pure luck, or fate, or love that brought me back before worse damage was done. But I knew I never wanted to lose myself like that again.
As terrifying as it was, if I should let that fear grip me too tight, the next time I slipped, it may not be so easy to come back. That uncertainty was enough.
Ace smiled, reaching out to let his hand run through the side of my hair, taming and caressing all at once. He loved doing that. Probably because he knew I like it. A lot.
"You can do it."
I roll my eyes with my own smile, leaning back and shoving his hand away. "As if I don't know that." But even then I knew he could feel the way the air around me melted and the rush of emotion that ran rampant beneath my skin.
All he did was hum in that annoyingly knowing way.
The house was mostly done with repairs, it wouldn't have taken this long either if I didn't push the workers to take regular breaks. They would've been done days ago. And despite what everyone says, I'll continue to demand they take breaks even if they hate it. It's not like the ceiling's still in a state of caving in.
I'd just showered and dressed—after failing at getting Ace to join me—and was heading downstairs for breakfast. A new chandelier dangled heavily and shone in the middle of the spacious lounge, washing the room with a light orange glow. There was new furniture—brown couches, hanging vines, and wooden coffee tables. Some of them doing magical things like the vines twisting and stretching up the wall constantly. I hated to say I loved it more than what was there before because, to be honest, I didn't remember what that was. I never spent much of my time there. That'll have to change.
"What's there for breakfast?" I hopped on a stool at the large kitchen counter in the center of the room. There was food covering the entire thing, it made my mouth water.
The cooks rushed around the room, busying themselves with making batches of food. Every few seconds, some would rush in and out of the room through two large double doors on the right wall that led to a downward staircase.
Where the hell did that come from?
I tilted on the edge of my chair, trying to see where it went. I always wondered how they were able to make this much food. The kitchen wasn't small by any means, but there were only five stoves and not enough space for twenty plus workers to move around. Especially with other pack members going in and out. I really need to get to know this place more.
Across the counter, Conner leaned against the marble top and plucked a piece of pineapple from the fruit salad and into his mouth. I've heard some things about him, mostly because his story was pretty well known. He was stillborn and was brought back to life by magic, Karen's magic that is.
I tilted my head as I held his gaze, his irises were so white they were almost transparent. His platinum hair didn't make it easier. He has freakishly pretty eyes. He was freakishly pretty.
Leaning forward, I placed my elbow on the counter and propped my chin on my fist. "How was death for you?"
Conner froze with his hand outstretched to something else in the mountain of food. We stared at each other for a prolonged second before his lips twitched. He laughed breathily and grabbed a plate off the stack to his left, then tongs, and began piling pancakes on the grey dish.
"I don't think anyone's ever asked me that," he said, humor in his tone. He glanced at me as he made his plate. I knew he was a fighter, but these past few days I learned that he also liked to cook and would come in almost every morning to help make breakfast.
"But," he continued, flicking his white hair out of his face with a jerk of his head, "I don't know. It happened when I was born, so I really couldn't tell you."
I pursed my lips, glancing away with a mumbled, "Yeah, you're right."
I turned back to him because of movement in my periphery. He held the plate out to me. There was a pancake, a waffle, fruits, eggs, and vegetables, with a fork sitting neatly on the side.
Beaming, I took it from him. "Oh, thank you."
He nodded once, smiling, and reached for a cup. "Orange or apple?" He gestured to the two jugs of juice in the middle of the counter.
I shook my head and tried to speak around my chewing. "You really don't have to." I sighed and stabbed my fork into another pancake on the pile across from me, biting into it before setting it on my plate.
"Apple, then?" Connor asked.
I hummed, mostly in satisfaction when molten chocolate lathered my tongue. He took the sound as confirmation, which it partially was, and poured my drink.
"I see you're on duty." Ace's amused voice came from behind me and sunk into my bones. "Putting our men to work. Good job."
My cheeks heated, just the tiniest bit. "He offered to," I grumbled. I reach up to grab the cup Connor held out to me, muttering my gratitude.
It was Ace's turn to hum. He does it a lot these days and sometimes I just want to turn the sound off. If only it didn't sound so damn good.
I felt him behind me—his chest barely brushing against my back but his heat...
I took a deep breath, swallowing everything in my mouth, including the not-so-appropriate words and phrases that were on the tip of my tongue.
"May I eat breakfast without you crowding me?"
"Is that what you want?" His lips brushed against my ear. He snaked his hands from my bare shoulders, down my sides, and around my torso.
My hands tightened on my knife and fork.
"Do you want to stab me in a good way or a bad way?" Ace said with a smile, trailing his lips from behind my ear, down my neck to my shoulder.
I wasn't aware I wanted to stab him at all. Or...
"There's a good way?" My voice wasn't my own. It was breathy and whispy—almost sultry. I hated it.
"Oh yes," Ace said, his low timbre vibrating where I could feel him. And I felt him everywhere. "We can make anything good." Strong hands brushed along my thighs. Slowly traveling down to my knees, then up-
"Is this your way of staking your claim?"
I snapped out of it immediately. My face got even hotter. More so in embarrassment now than seconds ago. I lowered my head as Ace stepped back.
"Because trust me," Connor said, "We can all smell the tension even when you're upstairs."
I glanced up at the white-headed male. He handed an empty plate with utensils to Ace.
"No, you can't," I said, then turned to Ace, "Can he?"
Ace shrugged and I couldn't miss the way his muscles tightened under his long-sleeved shirt. "It depends." He began fixing his plate.
I didn't ask what it depended on because I thought I understood that much.
Still, I had to think about it. It was a horrifying thought and I didn't know how to react to it.
Connor chuckled. "I'll leave you two to it." His footsteps faded with his descent down those ominous stairs.
"So what were you two chatting about before I came?"
I lifted my eyes to him, then my eyebrows.
Ace glanced at me as he sat back with a full plate. His look was innocent. "What?"
I shook my head, smiling, but went back to eating. "I asked him how it felt when he died."
Ace choked. He didn't recover until a few moments after a sip of water. He replied gravelly. "And," he cleared his throat as he spoke, "what did he say?"
"He doesn't remember. And that makes sense, I guess. Since he was a baby."
Ace got up, taking his plate with him. "Let's go in the dining room."
I followed him through another set of doors to our left that was open and led to the dining room in mention. Another new chandelier hung over a table so huge, that fifty people could sleep atop it. They won't be comfortable but they would fit.
"Is this about Anna?" Ace said as we sat across from each other.
I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip. "It's just that she came back so... cold. I'm just curious what happened."
"Have you asked?"
I stared at him. He stared at me.
He widened his eyes. "You just asked Connor."
I waved aimlessly at the dining room entrance that went into the kitchen. "He's different."
Ace sat back, reaching for his glass of water. "How so?"
It took a minute for me to get out what I wanted to say. "He's easy to talk to."
"If I remember correctly, Anna was the one constantly reaching out to you when you just got here."
I saw where this was going, although I didn't quite remember it how he was telling it.
Ace put his glass down and smiled all sweet. "Maybe it's time you return the favor. In a way, you two did kind of switched roles."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you saying I was difficult?"
He shook his head vigorously. It was satisfying.
Until he said, "Oh, you're definitely still difficult." He grinned at my glare. "But it wouldn't hurt for you to reach out."
I picked my fork up, refusing his gaze any longer. "I disagree, but okay."
"Just keep the house intact. And take it outside. Far, far away."
I tossed a blueberry at him, but he only caught it in his mouth.