Page 189 of Malice and Surrender
I snorted. “You trying to hypnotize me now?” Raine mumbled something and wiggled closer in my hold. I would’ve been tempted to slip between her legs again. Toss her leg over mine and fuck her while she slept until she woke up, but I knew she was tender. So I adjusted myself, my cock already thickening with the image and feel of her body pressed up against mine.
Lifting my arm off Raine, I eased out from under the covers. I hated to admit it, but the stupid bed was comfortable, and I loved holding Raine. I’d missed her way too much the three days she was gone, and she was leaving again for a night. I didn’t like this at all.
“Where are you going?”
“Drink. You want anything,” I asked, being nice instead of being my usual sarcastic self. It felt weird not instantly wanting to go another round of who could sling the better pile of shit.
“Bottle of water. Thanks.”
“You better not switch spots while I’m gone. I’m not cuddling Avro,” I said, and Jace chuckled.
“No promises. Peaches has a nicer ass to cuddle.”
I glared, and he laughed a little harder.
“Too soon?”
“Fuck you,” I mumbled and padded out into the hall and down the stairs. I wanted to tour the rest of this house. I always liked to know every inch of any place I stayed for more than a single night. Even in a shitty motel room, I checked under the bed, the windows, door locks, and the best place to store my weapon. Fun little habits you pick up locked away.
“What the fuck? Who the hell is this organized?” The impeccable organization that I found when I opened the fridge was intense. It looked like a showroom model fridge with fake and perfectly aligned food. Reaching in, I grabbed two waters from the stocked door.
I was just about to close it when a small container caught my attention. The label read: homemade lasagna, single piece, made Sunday at 6:00 pm. This had to be Avro. I couldn’t see Jace labeling anything like this. I grabbed the container, my stomach growling as I lifted the lid and took a sniff. Fuck that smelled good.
“Fuck it.” I tossed the container in the microwave and fumbled through the drawers to find a fork. “Holy shit,” I mumbled as I stared at the built-in trays and the technically redundant labels. I liked it. No one I knew appreciated organization. I didn’t do it with my cutlery: dessert forks, salad forks, dinner forks, butter knives, and steak knives, soup spoon and so on. I mean, could he not see what the items were? This was next level, leaving me wondering why go to all the trouble. If I wanted to get all introspective, I would say it made him feel like he had control, something leftover from whatever trauma he suffered at the hands of his uncle.
I did kinda hate that I threatened him with that information. If I’d known what happened and hadn’t been so focused on getting at Jace, I wouldn’t have done it. I still would’ve held onto it for insurance. I wasn’t an idiot, but calling him out could’ve been avoided. The look of terror in his eyes…shit, it didn’t feel right. Fuck I was going soft.
The microwave dinged, and I grabbed a dinner fork before re-closing the drawer and claiming my meal. Leaning against the counter, I peeled off the lid and had to admit it smelt a little like heaven. The first bite told me all I needed to know. Whoever made it could really cook. It was rich and bold with flavor and had the perfect combination of meat, sauce, noodles, and cheese. I had no idea when I became a food connoisseur. Move over, Gordon Ramsay.
I put my dish in the sink, disappointed that there wasn’t an entire pan to eat ?cause I would’ve been all over that. Grabbing the two bottles of water, I cracked my lid and was taking a big gulp when I stepped out of the kitchen. Something caught my peripheral vision, and I stopped moving, my eyes searching the darkness. The hair stood on the back of my neck, letting me know someone was there. I’d learned the hard way to always trust my senses. Of course, I didn’t have a weapon on me.
A car drove by. the bright lights flashing in the living room, and—even though I should be used to the unusual visits by now—I jumped at the sight of Wilder. My open water bottle squirted from the top and landed all over my chest.
“Geez us, fuck!” I hissed and glared at the man who was worse than a flea on a dog’s ass. “Wilder, what the hell are you doing here?”
Stepping into the room, I hit the light switch closest to me. It turned on four small ceiling lights around the room to show Wilder casually stretched out with his hands resting behind his head. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world with his boots on the new coffee table. All I could think was Avro would faint at the sight.
“Sitting,” Wilder said in his standard monotone way that told me nothing and only confused me more.
“Fuck. I mean, why are you sitting in this house? Why are you here at all, and how the hell did you get in?” I took a step back, just enough to glance at the door with the security panel. It still had a bright red light announcing it was armed.
“Because it was late, and you weren’t home. I was concerned, so I decided to ensure you were alright,” he said. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of almonds and tossed a few into his mouth. “I tracked you down here.”
“I didn’t realize I needed a curfew at twenty-nine years, seven months, and thirteen days old, but heck, why not start now?” Wilder’s eyes found mine, and his head turned slightly as he fixed me with a stare right out of The Exorcist.
“I like that you do that. Why do you do that?”
“Do what,” I asked, exasperated.
“Count time so specifically. I do that.”
Great, something we had in common. I shrugged and drank some water, glaring at what was still trailing down my chest.
“I don’t know why. I just do. So, are you still concerned for me, or are we good, and you’re going home?” When had Wilder stepped things up from the odd, weird questions to a personal stalker?
“No, I’m no longer concerned. You seem to be in perfect health. Your stamina while fucking is very impressive. You would do well with the Art of Kamasutra. At least that’s what I’ve been told.” Wilder said and casually closed his eyes.
“First, why the hell were you spying on me having sex…again? Second, why are you still here if you see I’m alright?” I leaned against the wall. I was pretty certain that I would need the support after whatever ‘What the fuck’ answer he gave me next.
