Page 13 of Chains and Vows

What has he been doin' all this time?

Something in me wakes and suddenly I'm up out of bed, pulling a robe over my naked body, and runnin' to the window.

But he's gone. I can't even make out the bike in the distance when I strain.

Sighing, and resigning myself to not solving the mystery, I walk over to the door, pull it open, and listen for sounds. Some kitchen noises, but that's it.

I missed breakfast. Again.

I close the door and go into the bathroom, starin' at myself in the mirror. I look a little wrecked, but not in a bad way.

As a woman who has passed her thirtieth year, I should be lookin' for all the signs that my prime is behind me.

But that's not what I see at all.

I don't see a spent woman, I see a woman just barely comin' alive.

I roll my shoulders, feeling the perfect kind of sore in my muscles. Last night Legion took me places I didn't even know I could go, with his mouth and his fingers and—God. The way he bent me over the bed, the patient attention he paid to every inch of me, how he gave me exactly what I needed.

What I wanted.

I can still taste him on my tongue.

Something has changed fundamentally in how Legion moves through Ashby space. This house was forbidden to him four months ago—both by Cash's explicit threats and by the invisible boundaries of class that kept him out for twenty years.

And now he's just... here.

Sleeping in my bed.

My mother would lose her goddamn mind.

And I think that might be my favorite part. Not because I want to spite Eleanor—though I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a little bit delicious—but because it feels like something's finally mine.

Not staged or curated or calculated for maximum return.

Just mine.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this shouldn't work. There should be tension, arguments, adjustments. But it doesn't feel like that. It feels like he's filling a space that's always been Legion-shaped.

A soft knock on my door pulls me out of my introspection. "Yes?" I call.

"Miss Savannah?" It's the housekeeper. "Your phone was left downstairs last night. It's been buzzing for the last thirty minutes."

I walk over, open the door, and find Esma on the other side, my phone in hand. She holds it up so I can see the lock screen. Two missed calls and a text.

The number is unfamiliar, but the text tells me all I need to know.

It's Colt. The message says, Call me. We need to talk. -C.

"Oh, thank you, Esma."

"Will you be having breakfast?"

"Yes, I'll be down in a few minutes. Don't make anything special. I'll have whatever's left over."

She nods, then turns to go back downstairs as I close the door.

Colt.