There was a snore in my ear, pulling me from sleep. I woke up feeling the weight of a body atop me. Bastian. I inhaled, tried to shift, and found myself entirely trapped, so I lay there, blinking up at the ceiling in his room. My legs were parted, and he'd found a way between them, his entire body aligned to mine, sleeping on top of me. His face was nuzzled in the crook of my neck.
I swallowed. We were naked, and he was hard, his length pressing obscenely against my folds. If I shifted and squirmed, I could probably work him in. Heat flushed my face as memories from last night came rushing back, the way he'd fucked me from behind, the way I'd ridden him. We'd collapsed after that, at nearly five in the morning, and passed out. I hadn't even gone through my bedtime routine, which was why my face felt gritty with day-old makeup and I had to pee.
Groaning, I pushed him aside. He gave a staggered snore then readjusted, grabbing the closest pillow and pulling it towards him, wrapping his arms around it. I giggled silently, taking in the sight of him, all six foot something, layered with muscle, half his body covered in tattoos and piercings, rings on his fingers, beautiful gray skin, pointed ears, and black hair laced with deep green, fanning out around him.
Girl, you've got it so fucking bad!
If I didn't stop myself, I'd stand there gaping all day, so I slipped from his room, leaving him with Teddy, who lay curled up at the foot of the bed. I went to my bathroom. In front of the mirror, my mouth dropped open. My hand lifted to the crook of my neck, rubbing. I winced, only slightly. There was a small bruise there. It was tender—where he'd bitten me. I blinked and nearly choked. He'd fucking bitten me last night and it had been so damn hot. It hadn't been enough to break the skin, but still. I leaned closer, trying to get a good look at it. And yet, the longer I stared, the more it seemed to disappear, like it was taunting me. I frowned, my brows pulling together, then shook my head. A moment later, and it was gone, like I'd completely imagined it.
I rubbed my temples, then blinked. It was too fucking early, even though it was nearly noon. I hadn't had my coffee yet. Weird shit could wait. Instead, I found a makeup cleanser cloth, then washed my face and brushed my teeth—
"Running from me already, Sugar?" Came the deep voice from the doorway.
I squeaked, then coughed, spraying toothpaste on the mirror as I rounded on him, brandishing my toothbrush. He stood, back in his human form, propped in the doorway, arms crossed, amusement dancing on his face. I looked him up and down, completely naked, then rushed to spit and clean my mouth.
"Thanks for that," I said, rolling my eyes, then grabbed a towel and wiped the toothpaste off the mirror and counter. He chuckled, walking into the bathroom. My heart sped up as he stalked towards me. He took me by the hips and lifted me on the counter, coming to stand between my legs. Then his lips found mine, sweet at first, gentle, before a hand slipped into my hair, clenching into a loose fist, tilting my head back for better access.
How could I possibly ever deny him? His tongue swept in, grew hungrier. I sighed into his mouth.
"Good morning," he teased, pulling slightly away to look at me. "Think I might be lucky enough to get you in the shower?"
"That depends," I managed, trying to scowl for the toothpaste incident.
"On?"
"Whether or not you'll make me breakfast?" I replaced my scowl with a charming grin, then wagged my eyebrows.
He laughed, the sound sending shivers over my skin. My grin widened and I blinked, soaking in the sight of him happy.
"How are you so fucking cute, even when you scowl at me?" he asked. "In fact, maybe I want to do more shit to piss you off, just so I can see the way it pulls your eyebrows together. I love that."
My heart sped up.
"But anyway, I was already planning on making omelets, so..."
"So then, yes," I managed in a breathy whisper, already starting to ache between my legs. His hands came under my hips, scooping me up. I squealed, trying to wrap myself around him, clinging on for dear life. "Bastian!" I screeched, pinching some of his hard muscle. He didn't even flinch.
He walked us into the shower, then turned me away from the shower head as water came cascading out. He took the brunt of the cold before it warmed up, but I felt the stray droplets; goosebumps prickled my skin and I shivered against him. He set me back on my feet, letting my body slide down his, then moved me into the stream of hot water.
I groaned, loudly, to which he answered with a low rumble of a chuckle. His fingers found my hair, working it back, getting it wet. "Oh?" I teased. "Are you going to wash me, too?"
"You are mine to care for—so, yes."
There was that word again. Mine. He'd said it before, too, but I'd been in a haze. Now I let it sink in, tried to ignore the thrill of it, instead, thinking logically. I cleared my throat. "Uhm, Bas?"
"Hmm?" He set about lathering up my loofa. "You don't exactly do relationships, do you?"
"Not usually, no." His focus was absolute.
I couldn't help but be momentarily distracted by those long fingers as he worked the body wash into a lather. Still, I said, "Right. So...when was your last one?"
"Relationship?" I gave him a no-shit look. He shrugged. "Couple centuries ago, give or take, probably take, I think." He said this all so casually, concentrating on his efforts. The damn loofa was well and thoroughly lathered by now. "Turn, Sugar, let me get your back first."
I sighed, complying. A hand found wrapped around the front of my neck, gently holding me, while the other began to clean me. "So...you don't do them at all, then?"
"Guess that's a no."
"Oh-kay? Was Sara the last person you were actually with? Like, beyond casual sex?"
His motions stilled before picking up again, the loofa moving down my back. He was quiet a long time. I almost looked over my shoulder to see his expression, to see if he'd heard me.
"After Sara," he finally said, "I wasn't interested in getting close to anyone. At first it was out of bitterness and fear. But then I realized that it was just...easier."
I wasn't breathing.
"Given what I am, what I do for the fae, it's just...so much easier. There are fewer questions. No expectations. No rules. I'll never let anyone down. I don't have to explain myself. I can come and go as I please. I never have to remember birthdays or anniversaries. Never have to meet parents or friends. Don't have to plan date nights or buy flowers and chocolates—"
I went rigid, because these were all things I had always hoped to have with someone. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I wanted my significant other to spoil me with little surprises. I didn't need anyone to spend an exorbitant amount of money on me. Just, little things, things that showed they cared.
Bastian's movements stopped.
I cleared my throat. "I guess It's good to know ahead of time that I shouldn't be expecting any roses, then?" I spoke the words to make light of a situation that felt so, so heavy. So fucking disappointing. What even were we, then, if this wasn't going to be a relationship? What was it we were doing? Prolonged casual sex? An extended one-night-stand? To be fair, I'd already decided that I would be okay with this, going in. But now that the actual sex had happened, I wasn't so sure I could keep my emotions out of the picture.
Bastian's hand tightened around my neck, gently pulling me back. His mouth came to my ear. "I will buy you a hundred roses, if that will make you happy, baby girl. Or even a thousand. What's your favorite color?"
My stomach bottomed out. "Uhm..."
"Come on, what's your favorite color?"
"Can you not guess?" I gasped, taking a deep, steadying breath, something blossoming in my chest. Something that felt a lot like hope.
"Pink?" He asked. I nodded. "I thought so." He hesitated and then— "There. It's not a thousand but, I'm not sure that would be a good idea."
I blinked. Suddenly I was surrounded by them. They lay across every surface in the bathroom, littered the floor, sat in vases. Countless long stemmed pink roses in various shades. My mouth dropped open, gaping. "You...how...what...did you just...?" I couldn't stop sputtering.
"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I paid for them. I keep loose cash around for all those missing ingredients you mentioned. The ones I might need on occasion."
A giddy laugh burst free of my chest. "That's a lot of loose cash for missing ingredients," I managed. Because this many roses would cost a fortune. Then again, the guy spent thousands on a single bottle of wine, so...
I couldn't stop staring. Hardly any tile was visible, everything littered with roses. It took a few moments, but soon I was hit by the smell of them. It filled the room, mixing with the heavy steam of the shower, making my eyes go wide. I inhaled, my nostrils flaring.
"Now," he said, "what else would you like, while we're at it?"
"You," I gasped, spinning to face him. "You, on your knees for me."
The smile that pulled at his lips was pure wickedness. He complied, erasing any doubt that he wouldn't be good at this sort of thing—whatever it was we were doing. I still had a lot to get off my chest regarding relationships, what we were, because I wanted an answer to that. But for now, the gesture was enough.
When his tongue found the heat between my legs, I wrapped my hands around his head, spreading my thighs enough to give him access. He lapped at me, running his tongue along my opening, circling my clit. His piercing sent zings of eagerness over my skin. My knees nearly gave out. He backed me against the glass wall, bracing me. One leg went over his shoulder while the other was held in place by his arm.
My head fell back against the glass. I closed my eyes, letting the steam and the scent of roses wash over me, through me. "Fuck, Bastian," I whispered, my body tightening. My orgasm was already racing towards me.
A low chuckle sent tingles shooting straight to my core, curling inside me. I rocked my hips to meet his mouth. "More," I breathed, growing desperate, aching. Bastian's fingers slipped in, then curled, and I spasmed, coming undone completely. A cry wrenched from my lips, and I bucked against him. His movements slowed, growing gentle as he finished licking at me.
When he lifted his eyes to mine, they were hot green sparks. He licked his lips, and his glamor flashed before my eyes. When he smiled, all I saw were the points of his goblin teeth ready to devour me whole.
***
I wasn't sure there was a single thing Bastian couldn't cook. I shoveled diced mushrooms and tomatoes and basil wrapped in cheddar cheese and egg into my mouth, like I couldn't eat fast enough. "Hungry much?" Bastian chuckled beside me, watching me eat for several beats, his eyes dancing.
I nodded and moaned the words, "It's so frigging good," through a mouthful.
"Good, eat up. You'll need your strength today."
Hot fire dropped into my belly. "I...will?" Because we would be having so much sex? Yes? Good. Okay. I was ready for it. It didn't matter that he'd fucked me thoroughly in the shower after I'd finished coming on his tongue. I'd thought I would be achy today, but even my jaw felt fine. Perhaps my prolonged celibacy hadn't been so detrimental. I could go at least another five, maybe six rounds? It depended on how many breaks we took—
"Whatever your thinking, I can smell it." My eyes bulged. "We're going to your apartment this afternoon, Sugar, to put things to rights. I've got some extra time today. And it will be good to appear as if you've gone back to your normal life, in case Luke comes looking."
My mind came to a screeching halt. Luke. Apartment. Bait...
I set my fork down, stomach turning into a tight ball. "I suddenly find I'm not all that hungry."
"Elle." Bastian's voice was gentle. "Eat your breakfast, lunch, whatever. You'll be fine, I promise."
"But...you're not going to make me stay there, right? While he's still at large?"
His body tensed. "You will stay where I can keep you safe," he said, his voice a menacing growl. I liked the sound of that growl. I nodded, relaxing, glancing at my plate. It was a really freaking good omelet. I lifted my fork again, took another bite.
Around us, vases of pink roses littered surfaces. He'd cleaned up his gesture in the bathroom by summoning additional vases to house the loose roses that had been scattered everywhere, the ones he hadn't already summoned in bouquets. Now they were everywhere—a reminder. My cheeks washed with heat.
"Still thinking naughty thoughts about me, Sugar?"
My eyes bugged out and my head whipped in his direction.
"Will you just—eat your food!" I snapped. "God!" There wasn't much bite to my voice, beyond being found out and feeling a little shy about it.
He chuckled, then returned to his omelet. My stomach relaxed and I managed to devour the rest of my food—not hard, considering it was orgasmically good, okay, not quite—and finish my second cup of coffee. Then we were headed out the door to my apartment.
Our drive through the city was a quiet one. Bastian didn't seem talkative, and I didn't want to push. Instead, my mind replayed our words, our actions, everything. It would be silly to think I was somehow special—that after he'd had his pick of partners over the years (freaking centuries), I was the one he'd make an exception for. That was the surest way to break my heart, I realized, when this was all said and done. And yet, his actions spoke otherwise.
Bastian found a spot along the curb and parallel parked his truck. I punched in the code on the building, and we took the elevator to my floor. My heart lurched at the sight of Peter's closed door. There was no longer caution tape; it wasn't swarming with police and detectives and investigative analysts. Everything looked as it ought, as if he might pop his head out and say, "Eh, Candy? All right, girl?" And I'd nod and say, "Yep, thanks, Peter. How's Teddy?" And he'd chuckle, regaling me with Teddy's latest antics while I unlocked my door, then we'd bid each other goodbye, and do it all over again the next time I came home.
"You okay, Sugar?" Bastian's hand tightened on mine, sending butterflies fluttering through my chest. I nodded, pulling my eyes from Peter's door, focusing on mine instead. "I had the landlord replace the locks," he said, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and handing them over. "Since you and Vivi were both unavailable. Hope you don't mind. There's two there, and the third is with the landlord."
"I...thank you for doing that."
He nodded, motioning with his head.
I took a deep breath, sliding the key into the lock, trying to keep my hand from shaking. When the door swung open, I felt the same shocked lurch in my stomach at the disaster before me. It was just as it had been days ago, completely trashed, untouched, everything broken. I stood in the doorway, blinking.
Where was I supposed to start with all this?
Fingers trailed down my arm, then a hand snaked around my front and Bastian lowered his mouth to my ear. "Why don't I work on the large things in the living room, first? I'll fix the shelves, the television, all that, and you can begin setting things back where you kept them?" I nodded, absentmindedly absorbing his words, as my gaze took in the mess. "I'd put everything back for you, but something tells me you'll want it juuust right."
I huffed. "Yeah...probably. That...that sounds good."
I entered the main living area, reaching for the bowl to deposit my keys, only to find it was on the ground. So that was the first thing I picked up, the first thing I put back. The first step to rebuilding my life—again—after Luke had upended it. Then with Bastian's help, we began moving around the space.
I watched him work at first. He went to the television and pulled some black smoky tendrils of...something...from his metals, and they settled over the screen, mending the shattered cracks. A couple of blinks later, and he was lifting it upright, back into place.
"Wow..." I shook my head, like trying to clear away my surprised haze. "You really just...did that."
"Doubted me, did you?" He grinned, letting his dimple out, arching his pierced eyebrow.
My mouth opened and closed. Then I smiled. "Not even for a minute." He winked and got busy with other things. As soon as the shelves and television cabinet and other furniture was set to rights, I began grabbing objects, books mostly, off the floor, and setting them back where they belonged. The items that were broken, I set to the side for Bastian's attention.
We moved through the living room first, then into the dining room and kitchen. When I spotted the broken shards of the pasta bowl and spoiled pasta, I began cleaning it up. That night felt like ages ago. "I can't believe that I found out about her death from the news," I muttered, using a wad of paper towels to pick up the glass and spoiled food.
"Professor Miller's?" Bastian asked, while he repaired a set of broken drawers. The bottoms had been punched out, the silverware and cookware scattered everywhere, because Luke was anything if not thorough.
"Yeah, I mean, I guess I deserved that for not keeping up with her. But still." He grunted, continuing to work. I grabbed a rag to clean remainder of spoiled food from the floor then paused. "You never told me who hired you to find her murderer. You mentioned the will and her family. Was it them?"
Bastian stopped, then turned to face me. "For the record, Sugar, that kind of information is confidential." I gave him my best glare. He sighed then added, "Yes, it was her family."
I nodded, then set about scrubbing the floor, then stopped, frowning. "Bastian? How did her family know to hire you?"
"What do you mean?" His words were slow, measured.
"I mean...you're a goblin who works for the fae. They wouldn't have hired you through the WBI. How would they have known who you are, what you do, where to find you?" I fumbled with the rag, then let it fall, standing to face him. Something wasn't adding up.
He set the drawer on the countertop, let his arms hang limp at his sides. "You didn't know, did you? I had a feeling that might be the case when you never mentioned it."
"Didn't know what?"
He ran a hand over the shaved side of his head and sighed and swore. "Professor Miller was...she was a witch, Sugar." I blinked back at him. "Not a very powerful one, from what I understand. But she did come from a semi-prominent witch family."
"You're joking, right? This is just a joke. She wasn't a witch, Bastian. I'd have known," I snapped, heated accusation unintentionally filling my voice.
He flinched, took a step back, crossing his arms. "Oh? That necklace lets you see a witch's glamor, does it? What, exactly does a witch's glamor look like, then?"
My mouth opened and closed. I frowned. "I...I guess I never really..." I couldn't finish. I'd never seen a witch's glamor because they weren't like other supernaturals. They didn't have pointed ears or different colored skin or sharp, angular features. They didn't shift into animals. They didn't have shadowy, black eyes with black veins and fangs for drinking blood. They just looked...human.
My body went numb.
Bastian's face softened. He exhaled.
"I'm sorry, Sugar," he said, his voice low. He came over and wrapped me in a bear hug, propping his chin on top of my head. For a moment, I let him. I took a deep breath, then another, and another, but I couldn't fight the tears filling my eyes. How could I have missed this? Why hadn't Jane told me? My pulse sped up and I tensed, pushing against Bastian, slipping out of his embrace.
"You've known for days, and you didn't think to tell me? Didn't think to mention it as part of the case? You knew what my relationship was with her and you...what, thought I shouldn't know? If you had a feeling I didn't know, you should have told me, brought it up, something!" I shook my head.
"Sugar..."
"No! Don't—Sugar me." I backed up a step. "You should have told me, Bastian." I scrubbed my hands over my face, then wrapped them around the back of my neck, lacing my fingers together, looking up at the ceiling.
"At first, I assumed you knew. Then, I figured if you didn't there was a reason she didn't tell you. And then I just sort of...didn't think about it again after that."
Pain filled the back of my throat. "Well, great! I'm glad you just forgot."
Bastian's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry, Elle."
The breath whooshed out of my chest. This...wasn't how things were supposed to go between us. I was messing this up. I shook my head.
"No. I..." I let out a frustrated groan. "No. It's...you don't owe me an apology. Not really. It's not your fault she didn't tell me. I'm just..."
Looking for someone to blame. That wasn't very fair of me. And for someone who had avoided relationships specifically because of things like this happening, I wasn't giving him a good reason to enjoy being in one by blaming him for this. I dropped my hands.
"You're angry. I get it. I'm angry for you—that she didn't share this with you. That you had to find out this way. And I'm sorry that I had to be the one to break it to you." He took a deep breath, his chest expanding.
I nodded, then closed the distance between us. "I just—I don't want you to keep things from me, okay? If you think it's something I should know, tell me. I just...I hate that feeling, you know? Luke did it all the time, actually. Intentionally kept things from me."
"Fuck," he muttered, and his arms came around me, pulling me close. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I know you and Professor Miller were close. Her family knows of me through the fae. That's why they hired me. Given that she had witch blood, they wanted someone supernatural involved, didn't trust the normie government to do an adequate job."
"Normie?"
He huffed. "Normal. Nickname, I guess. One that most supernaturals use."
"Oh."
He leaned back, tilting my chin up with a finger. "How about we finish this apartment, and then christen your bed?"
My pulse quickened, and all my frustration, anger, sadness, slipped right away. "Yes. I'd like that."
With that driving me, I let everything over Professor Miller's betrayal fade into the distance, for now, and set about fixing the rest of my apartment.