(Enjoy the new cover for Book Six! You'll have to let me know what you think! That is Nic and Helen.)
Sighing contentedly, I pop a fork full of pasta in my mouth with a moan of appreciation. Italian was not something I often got to partake in but it was a guilty pleasure of mine. Despite the unusual nature of it, I enjoyed the occasional bite my husband offered me, while allowing me to feed myself, it seemed he appreciated participating in how much I enjoyed the meal.
Verando had assured me he would repay me for cutting our fun short, I was thoroughly pleased with the measures he'd taken to insure I was satisfied in at least one way. While it had been my intention to continue the art of seduction here at dinner, I struggled to find anything sexy out of devouring the savory pasta. Taking a bite off my fork, Verando seems less than impressed.
"You don't like white sauce?" I tease.
Shirt unbuttoned at the top, tie resting loosely over his shoulders, he reclines slightly in his chair to sip his wine and watch me eat. A picture of my desire before me, making my mouth water all over again at the thought of what I'd like to do to him. "Not particularly. Though I'm not surprised you enjoy it."
"I love anything cream based." I retort happily, though catching the impish nature of the devious grin, I flush at the nature of his words. "I'm the foul one and you make an induendo like that?" It wasn't often he caught me off guard in such a way, he wasn't one to usually make jokes with his dry humor.
The new musculature must be draining on him to give him such a healthy appetite, though I wasn't complaining to see him finally feeding himself. Nor was I upset about the throw back to my feral husband, even his hair had slowly begun to grow back out. The slightly longer length, the rippling muscles, the way his shirt was so casually laid open.
I wet my lips just watching him, earning a curious eyebrow raise as I catch the tip of my fork between my teeth in a tempting nibble.
How was one supposed to even achieve 'sexy'? Like a thirsty man in the desert, I craved more.
With the gentle light of the candle, illuminating the intimate nature of the booth, I take a bread stick and imagine what one would do with it if they were attempting to be seductive. Falling short, I can only manage to wave it around, keeping it near my lips.
"If I knew that exercising you in this way would help you eat, I would bed you more often." With a giggle, I wait for his response, only to get a slight smirk as he takes me in. "You're deep in thought. Undressing me with your eyes?" I manage, earning a moment of hesitation.
"I'm absolutely smitten. You've rendered me useless of any breath of restraint." He exhales, tracing the nearest edge of the glass lightly with his lower lip before placing it back on the table. "Conflicted, in a sense, as well I suppose."
"About the school?"
Scoffing, he folds his hands into his lap, ever the professional. "'Fraid not, darling, I've already written that monstrosity off."
Frowning, I bump him under the table with my foot. It seemed like a poor set of circumstances to judge the entire idea on. We knew Senator Campbell would be there, and the place itself seemed quite well done. We at least knew the fire suppression was up to code, they also did not resort to violence when they were worried about two lycans killing each other.
"Please give it a chance. I know it's scary, but everything has to start somewhere. We have to be willing to listen, Darrius needs this." It's a quiet plea, producing tension in his jaw as he listens though I can already see the argument forming. "They could have shot you but they didn't, they decided to use the water instead. It means there are people there who have these kids best intentions at heart."
Shaking his head, running a hand through the thick locks, he sighs heavily. "Darrius needs a family, a support system, not to be gawked at and developed into what the government wants him to be. Documentation isn't going to know what to do with him, Nic. He's not an elf... it seems like a poorly way to educate him when we're a breath away from everyone finding out what he is. In any case, he has you to instruct him."
Turning my lips down at the corners, I place the breadstick down.
"Would that be such a bad thing? When are we going to tell him...? Randy, I can't teach him what society must, he has to learn about these people if he's going to be the spirit of the earth." My voice softens, it was uncharted territory for him and a sore spot for sure.
Verando had never lived up to his father's expectations, with brutal training and constant bombardment to be better, we both had reservations about allowing any sort of school to touch our children. But, he was so adamantly against anything out of his control.
There were times like this when I felt like the kids belonged to two seperate families. His children and the ones he let me borrow on occasion, I'd been so absent the first part of my lycan life that the kids had definitely flocked towards him and he cared for them profusely. But, I often wondered how much he was willing to let them go when it came to me.
It was almost as if he didn't trust my judgement, maybe even the slightest bit protective of them from me. I couldn't blame him, and yet, I worried what would happen if push came to shove about decisions. Who had the final say? One was mine, one was his, genetically. But, together, they were ours.
In our parenting styles, we clashed on a lot of things. My parents, while odd and distant, did love me to some extent. My mother had raised me, loved but bored, sheltered but catered to, I didn't want to imagine a life where my child didn't get to embrace the magic inside of him.
If we were going to raise a magical child, he was going to need my help and it would be up to me to set that boundary. It was time to take my portion of the kids, the responsibility and the head ache, but first he would have to let his guard down.
"He's three." He responds shortly, earning my patience. I would get nowhere by snapping at him.
"He's almost four. Once he turns five, the magic is going to get stronger every year."
"Then we'll wait until he's five."
Placing my fork down, I fold my hands in my lap, watching him in a silent standoff. "Remember when you promised me you wouldn't lock me up anymore? You kept that promise.. but now I need you to do the same for Darrius. I want this. Darrius wants this. We have to try and find a way to make this school into something he can participate in because once he turns eighteen, they're going to come for him... and he won't belong to us anymore... and I'll be damned if he is as sheltered and sad as I was when that time comes."
Flinching, Verando averts his eyes to glare at the waiter who immediately turns on his heel and goes the opposite direction. A mixture of regret and remorse for what we would have to do to prepare the child for a life of responsibility. The sweet, kind boy who loved his daddy and gave the best hugs.
I never imagined the man who left his children behind could fall so head over heels for a child who wasn't his own yet it seemed he was struggling with the idea of losing the boy more than I was. I loved him, but I understood the path. Verando seemed to see it as an obstacle to be overcome, something we could avoid, a trial to be faced.
As if I was the one trying to take Darrius away when it had been the opposite once the decision was made to raise him.
It was a permanent ending to this story. We could not escape it, Darrius would become the unicorn.
"What were you thinking about?" I ask, taking a swallow of my own wine, attempting to change the subject and for a moment he looks as though he doesn't want to tell me. On guard, he looks reluctant, I'd sufficiently killed any mood I'd been hoping to stoke.
"Every time I think I've figured out the level at which I'm infatuated with you, it becomes a whole new layer of insanity that I can't wrap my mind around. Horrifying, on one hand, absolutely sensational on the other. Odd time to consider this, for sure." Shaking his head, pushing his food away, he wouldn't be eating any more with the stress of the conversation.
While a clean-shaven warlord was equally attractive, there was something feral and rugged about the stubble he carried. Often times I wondered how I could be so in love with a man, how I could have deserved someone who was created for me, and then I remember that nobody else would claim either of us.
We belonged together, if we wanted to or not.
"I was supposed to be using this as an opportunity to practice restraint and trust, yet we're rutting in an office like a couple of horny teenagers." Sighing heavily, he refills his wine glass. I give him a warning glance, knowing he was already nearing his limit as far as tolerance for alcohol.
These key words cued me into what he was really thinking, just as I had suspected, coming off the high of fornicating with me had left him spiraling. We were having a discussion, it brought him back to the reminder that we still had a few issues to work out and our relationship was in no way fixed despite how much we loved each other.
"Don't remind me, I'd like to not embarrass myself in front of all these fine people." I tease gently, a peace offering.
Cocking an eyebrow, he pulls his lips into a semi-frown, "Do you regret it?"
While it would be fun to torture him, I can only offer a mild shrug, poking at my pasta with my fork as I mull over my answer. "Regret?" I consider, running my tongue over my upper lip and shifting casually in my chair. "Do I regret hearing you lose yourself? Feeling your weight on me while I'm out of my mind with want for you? No... the embarrassing part..."
Sliding my foot out of my shoe, I place my stocking-laced toes in between his legs and press firmly on his crotch in declaration of what belonged to me. The sharp inhale, the way those full lips part and his looks at me like a predator locked onto it's prey, I bite my lower lip in a challenge. "The embarrassing part would be that I'd have you for dessert, right here, on the floor without a care of whose watching."
Catching him off guard, the shock on his expression makes me wonder if I'd be reprimanded for my audacity, yet his leg drifts slightly to the side to allow me to gain access with my foot. "I've had just enough wine that you should be wary of how much you tempt me with that sinful tongue, Nicolas. Don't forget who commands that glorious body."
"How can I please you?" I purr, pressing my foot firmly into his hardening groin. In it quick motion, his hand seizes my foot, rolling his thumb into the balls of my feet in an almost massage.
"You could stop distracting me, I have a few questions before we continue this little game. What do you want to do with your life?"
"You. In the back of the SUV." I suggest with a grin, earning a sharp drag of his finger down my foot and sending a jolt through my spine at the ticklish sensation. Wide eyed, I gape at him. "Don't you dare."
"Don't fuck with me." Shrugging simply, he returns to his massage, swirling his glass of wine with his free hand. "I'm about to go on tour. What does that mean for us? Are you going with me? Do I go alone? We can't keep dragging the children along with us so I feel like you should stay. Yet... I'm afraid for you to stay."
He was worried about what I'd do with him gone? That I'd stray? "Is this what you thought about on the drive over? Randy I would never-"
He tickles me again, more strongly this time, earning a laugh that makes me thrash in my seat and gain the attention of patrons all around us. Embarressed, red faced, I apologize profusely until he ceases his torture.
"You did."
"I know. I know." Gasping for breath, unused to being assaulted in such a way, I'd yank my foot out of his lap if I wasn't afraid of kicking him in the crotch. "Do you want me to come with you? I will do what you want me to do, whatever makes you comfortable. Whatever makes you happy. I understand that I have to earn back your trust."
Frowning, Verando leans back into his seat, taking me in. "No, in a sense, I want you home." The pain of his answer fractures my resolve. "But it's not a realistic answer. Of course I want you to come with me, but I also know our children need you."
Flinching, his hand relaxes against my foot. "It feels silly to think it would happen again, you slept with a version of me, not some stranger. Yet I can't get away from it, in my sleep, in my thoughts, every time a man gets close to you I want to snap his neck. This... jealousy.. is overwhelming."
Grinding his teeth, the expression darkens as he forms his thoughts. "I'd mount their head on my wall if anyone ever thought to touch you without your consent. Perhaps even with. It makes me feel inadequate, as if maybe I haven't done enough to reassure you that you're mine. That I don't please you."
My head is reeling from the emotional whiplash of a heart sick, buzzed, warlord. The tangled web of emotions in a sea of supression was a nightmare maze of puzzles and riddles, neither of us knew the answers. "I want to go with you. I will never not want to be with you. I want to be on my knees before you at every opportunity, hold you at night, make sure you're eating and that your tea is how you like it... but I also understand why you want me to stay home."
"I want you to have a hobby, a job, to keep you busy while I'm gone." So he wanted me to stay behind. He sounded decided on that, he would rather me not come along.
"You didn't want me to get involved in politics, remember? What would you want me to do? Knit?" I suggest, trying not to appear so saddened by the thought of allowing him to leave for however long a tour would last.
"I bought you a share in an automotive shop." Downing the rest of his glass, his shoulders square in a way that one might before a boxing match. He was smart and he knew me well, this could go either way. I'd either be furious or I'd be elated. "The man there is quite handy, John knows him. He's also straight and disgustingly religious so I don't have to worry about him touching you. It's close to our new home... not so much to the farm. He's willing to train you."
I'm torn between hating him for not asking me and adoring him for doing something so thoughtful. Speechless, I can only stare at him, settling into my own seat as the waiter arrives with the bill.
"Any dessert?" He asks, timid.
"Fuck off." Verando snaps.
I kick him under the table, "Afraid we'll have to skip dessert, Mr.Mercer has been poorly behaved. Just the check would be fine."
Flinching, the poor waiter simply leaves the check. Uncertain what he'd done to warrant the onslaught of verbal assault, I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.
"Why would you do that without asking me?"
"It's a share, not a job. You're to much of a stubborn brat to ask me for money." His retort takes me a back, it was the truth, I hardly ever asked him for anything which usually lead me to attempting to make my own.
Placing his card on the table, a different man comes to take the bill and I shoot the poor staff member an apologetic glance.
"I don't know if I should slap you or kiss you." I declare, narrowing my eyes at him.
Shrugging, he takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one to take a slow draw. "Pick one, darling. I'm on board for either."
"Don't you dare smoke in here." I hiss at him.
"Or what?" The sharpness of the challenge makes me growl right back at him. A manager returns with the check, sighing heavily when he notices the cigarette.
"We appreciate your business, Mr.Mercer. Though I do ask you not-" Hesitating at the absolutely lethal glower the warlord gives him, the manager simply steps aside. "Have a good evening, gentlemen."
Standing, Verando gestures to me to exit the booth and I hesitate. "You're not smoking in the car. It's my car."
Rolling his eyes heavily, his lips part to argue with me and the manager clears his throat. "There is a smoking lounge on the balcony, if that would be of assistance to make your evening more enjoyable. It over looks the city."
"Perfect." Putting my hands on the gray haired man's back, I shove the argumentative creature in the direction of my car's salvation.
We step out into the night air, the solid side walls covered in latice and dying ivy leaves provided a decent wind break though I was shocked to see how high up we were. I suppose this was the effect that mountains had on the terrain. Entering on a flat surface only to realize you were on somewhat of a cliff.
I lean on the iron banister, attempting to sort through all the information of the last hour. "Why did you have to be such a light weight? I need to talk to you about all of this." I grumble at him as he takes a draw on his cigarette, leaning forward on the banister to track my gaze. I spin, putting my back to the city as I stand beside him. "Talk to me."
His cheeks are red and flushed from the alcohol. "I don't know what I want, everything's different.. complicated. I'm sick of talking."
"Did you really buy a share in that company?"
After a moment, he nods. "Yes. After you fixed my tire. You looked happy, I wanted to see you look like that again, it's not often you look so fulfilled anymore. The branch is European, but there truly is one here and John does know the owner."
A chance to do something I wanted to do, work on cars and help him with his own, to pursue the pipe dream that we could one day have functioning vehicles that weren't war machines refabbed into family cars. That there would be sport models again.
Grabbing the cigarette out of his hand, I crush it out on the ground with a firm stomp as I pull him to me by his shirt, kissing him deeply as one of my arms tangles around his neck. His hand moves to the small of my back, lifting me up onto my tip toes to gain better access to me as he kisses me back. Claiming my mouth with his tongue, holding me so close to him, I lean into his body with a sigh as I surrender to his lips.
"How's your body heat?"
"I'm on fire." I whisper, knotting my hands in his hair as I crush my lips to his.
Catching my lower lip in his teeth, he growls low in his throat. "Good, I'll have you here then, on this balcony for the city to see."