Flouting city traffic laws, the driver bumped us up onto the sidewalk softly and parked about three feet from the reception’s doors, ushering us in, where we were met by two of the station’s uniformed security. Serenity seemed to know them, greeting them witha smile. They escorted us to my office and were easily persuaded to pass their time at the nearby coffee corner.
We grabbed coffee ourselves and settled in for a hard session of redoing a number of Midas website designs. We rolled up our sleeves and made a promise to focus on work, despite other thoughts that might be going on in our heads. Easier said than done.
After around two hours of—mostly—focused work, sitting closely beside each other, sharing glances overtop our screens, and enjoying the warm brushes of skin as we tapped away on our laptops, we decided to take a break.
She stretched a little then leaned forward, delving into my eyes, using our silent speech to chat.
What are you thinking about?
That’s a problem, that question.
Oh? How so?
Whenever women ask their partners that on TV or in movies, they always get a romantic answer. But a guy can have romantic thoughts all day, and then right as he’s thinking something stupid, like ‘Why’s that treble clef-looking thing called an ampersand?’ he gets asked that question. So, in that scenario, do you say the weird thing or pull out something better you were thinking earlier?
I wanna know both.Her nose crinkled in an adorable, teasing grin.So now you have to spill what were you thinking earlier.
My thought of her writhing in pleasure beneath me on the limo leather while my tongue savored the sweet taste of her blood rushed forward, but I shut it down hard, heartrate spiking to eleven as I gauged her expression. I didn’t think it had gotten through my barrier.
Swallowing hard, I went to something more human.I was thinking that I didn’t know what love was back in college, with the vamp girl I told you about. I thought coddling was care, and lust was devotion, and pity was compassion. When she treated me like a helpless kid and acted like parties with her friends were too much for me or insisted yetagain that we stay inside just the two of us, I thought it meant she felt protective.I reached to take up her hand, and she gave it willingly, a flush high on her cheeks like every woman any knight ever put on a pedestal.But even though the Marchand coven would have to rip me to pieces to lay one finger on you, not once have I ever pitied you or wanted to lock you away from everything and everyone but me. You’re the farthest thing from helpless, and all I want for you is to be happy. To go and do whatever you want, and I’ll lay myself down on whatever obstacle is in your way, so you can use me like a bridge to get there, if you need.
She drew a shaky breath, eyes glossed with unshed tears.
My own throat tightened, and I was glad I didn’t have to use my voice to say,Now that I’ve met you, I think that’s what it means to protect someone you love. To give yourself, not take from them.
Snippets of her thoughts rushed at me.Love me? Did… loves me? How am I…?She shut her eyes and breathed hard, and I hung there in limbo, clinging to the fact that she didn’t let go of my hand.
“Seb,” she murmured, voice cracking. A small smile curled her lips, and in my head she said,I don’t know if I can be everything you deserve. I don’t even know if I can stay in this town or make this thing with all of you work or…
I moved my rolling chair around the desk so I could bring her hand to my lips.Seren, I didn’t say any of that to put pressure on you. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But trust me, I want you just as you are. You don’t have to be or do anything else.
“Seb!” She flew into my arms, her own wrapping around my neck as my office chair leaned back toward its tipping point. Her knees squeezed around my legs, and when her mouth crashed with mine, I curled my fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss until I was dizzy.
A light tap on the door broke us apart in a hurry. It sidled open a small fraction just as Serenity flopped back into her own chair. My mom gingerly poked her head round, sporting her usual sunbeam smile. “Hello, you two. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No,” I panted as Serenity tried to smooth her mussed hair.
She slipped a circular tin through the crack in the door. “I brought your favorite ginger cookies, hon. Want to come get them so you two can get back to work?” She gave an exaggerated wink, clearly overjoyed at how Serenity and I were getting along.
I rose sharply, opening the door all the way to hug her. “Mom, come in, come sit down. Can I get you coffee, tea, some water? Orange juice?”
“No thanks, dear.” She opened the tin, stuffed to the brim in dark cookies. “I thought you might like some sweets at your love loft.” She winked again, and I had to groan, “Mom,” on principle.
But she just waggled the tin, and I didn’t need any persuading, grabbing two. Serenity was slower to partake, and I reached out for her thoughts as she turned a cookie over in her hands.
The sharp ginger smell brought back bittersweet memories of baking with her own mom before her life had turned to shit. My first mouthful went dry and tasteless on my tongue as her sorrow washed over me.
“What’s wrong, dear, you don’t like them?” My mom had clearly clocked her melancholy stare too.
“Oh no, they look perfect, thank you so much. I don’t think they’ll last long in Hunter’s loft, for sure. It’s nothing, really.”
She gave Serenity one of those smiles that only older women could give. As if her intuition had worked effortlessly to decipher her inner feelings. “What’sreallywrong, dear?”
You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable.
She cast me a sidelong smile and told my mother, “Oh, just the cookies, you know. The smell especially, reminds me of before New Nebraska, baking with my mom.”
I think maybe I’ve avoided answering questions like that for too long, she told me.
