Page 2 of Requiem & Reverie

I want to drown myself in her innocence, just to know what goodness feels like. For too long, I’ve lived in the shadows of bad men. I’ve seen horrible things.

But Nola is a reminder of why men fight and kill so passionately.

She’s purpose. That elusive reasoning I’ve been missing all this time. I know exactly why I want Carl dead, why I want him to suffer the most excruciating pain. I felt it in those moments while dreaming, watching him taint her with his dirty hands at her throat.

Then mine.

I’ll never be good enough for a woman like her, a woman who deserves a man without the fucked-up history that mars my timeline. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight for what I want and protect what’s mine.

That doesn’t mean that I won’t kill another man for touching her that way.

I push up from the chair, setting my glass of wine on the nightstand, and slide back into bed beside her. Wrapping my arm around her midsection, I drag her into me, and as she stirs against me, I kiss her shoulder to settle her.

Her sweet floral scent is both calming and mouthwatering, stirring my blood, but I won’t take from her right now. I’ll wait until she’s ready.

Because the moment I indulge is the moment she’ll no longer be innocent Nola. She’ll be mine, and there will be nothing she can do to change that.

2

Nola

I hate permagrin. It’s like everyone knows you got laid. And as Lara, one of the younger waitresses, strolls up with a wicked smile on her face, I know it’s practically inked across my face.

“My, my, my. If I didn’t know better, I’d say somebody got a piece of ass this weekend.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Who won the lottery?”

“You don’t know him.” I grin, busying myself with wiping down the counter.

“He wouldn’t happen to be a tall drink of water in a suit, with dark hair and wicked, fuck-me eyes staring at you?”

“Huh?” I turn to see Voss standing in the doorway, his lips cocked to a crooked smile.

“Jesus Christ, Nola, I’m not gonna lie. I thought life was over at your age, but shit. You’re my hero.”

“Fuck off, Lara.” I saunter toward him, trying not to look like a horny kitten eyeing up a ball of catnip. “Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

“I forgot how hot you look in an apron.” Bringing his lips to my ear, he lowers his voice. “Gotta keep my fantasies fresh with all the details.”

“Perhaps something to consider next time, ”I respond in an equally quiet voice, so as not to draw unwanted attention from the waitresses, who’ll undoubtedly be asking me about the shape of his dick when he leaves.

“I’d like that very much,” he whispers and kisses the shell of my ear. “I’m going to take a coffee and go.”

“You seriously only came here to see me in my apron?”

“Yes. And for the coffee.”

With a chuckle, I twist away from him and nab a to-go cup from the other side of the bar. “You’re crazy,” I say, pouring coffee into the plastic cup.

“We’ve established this, yes.” He accepts the coffee that I hand off to him and tosses a twenty on the counter. “Another minute of staring at you in that uniform, and I’m going to need a straitjacket to keep my hands off you.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “Hang on, I’ll get your change.”

“I’ll take it out in trade.”

“I’m afraid we sold out of all my wares, if you’ll recall.”