I growled. “After I bared my soul and bought you very thoughtful presents? You’re a cold one, aren’t you?”
She smirked down at me. “So, I’ve been told.”
“Well, I guess I’ll take all this stuff back then.” I began to reach for the food.
She shot out a hand over mine. “Fine, fine. It doesn’t matter what you know. When I get out of here, I’ll never see you again.”
She spoke as if I would ever let her leave. Every moment with her only made me want her more. I’d chase her to the ends of the earth if she continued to thrill me like she did.
She sighed and pushed me back on the bed. I smiled, raising a brow. “Oi, I thought I was getting a story, but I can get with this.”
She grumbled something unintelligible. “Relax, I’m just laying my head back down. Your chest is a nice combination of soft and hard.”
I knew better. She didn’t want to look into my eyes as she told her story. I was thankful I didn’t have to see her face when I spoke. To see any possible trace of sadness would have made it worse.
“Okay, I’m going to be quick. If we keep going into all this detail, it’ll start feeling like group therapy. So, I started life out in a not-so-nice part of town. My dad didn’t stick around, so I never knew him. My mother was a drug addict. She was an ice mage, no idea what my dad was. She didn’t really use her magic much. I suspect the drug use burned out her abilities somehow. When I was around nine, I got carted off to foster care because my mom finally got found to be unfit. We didn’t have any other living relatives willing to take me in, so I jumped around from one foster parent to another. Not many people were getting in line to adopt a kid almost in middle school. And the few who took me in for a while were clearly doing it for the money because they were shit parents.”
She plucked my stomach, and I clenched. I knew she was just distracting herself because talking about her past hurt. I could connect to that. “Sounds like we both didn’t have the best childhoods.”
“Nah. Things got better when I met my best friend in ninth grade. I basically spent all my time outside of school at her house. They practically adopted me. Her dad spent money on me like I was his kid. He even offered to help me through college, but I got prideful and joined the military instead. Got the government to pay for school after I got out, but he did give me some spending money to help me on my feet.”
I nodded to myself. It seemed she, too, found her people. I wondered how instrumental they were in keeping her in check. Perhaps she wasn’t as broken as me. I was intrigued that she had been a soldier. It just meant all the more that she was a fighter, and that part I liked. “Did you like being in the military?”
I felt her shrug against me. “Eh. I made some good friendships and learned how strong I could be, especially with my magic, but I also had to deal with sexism and racism. People are just assholes. I had to fight in school, in the orphanage, and in the military. Leadership thought I had a unique ability with my ice control, and there were a lot of jealous people who wanted to test me. Even after I became a shop owner, I’m still getting subjected to unprovoked fights. Fights in the human realm and fights in the fae realm.”
I finally gave in and rubbed a hand up and down her back, my fingers inching closer and closer to her very round bottom, and she didn’t bat me away. “Maybe it’s a sign that’s what you need to do for a living. Getting proper paid for kicking all the arse.”
She moved a hand under my shirt, her touch cold against my skin. Instantly, I began to get excited. It really didn’t take much with her.
“I prefer being a simple baker, thank you very much.”
“Well, sometimes, we don’t get what we want,” I replied before wrapping my arms around her and flipping her on her back.
CHAPTER10
LILA
Xander wasn’t a monster. No, scratch that. He was definitely a monster, but he was not born that way. I wanted to squeeze him tight as he told me his life story, but I knew he would hate that. I was tough, but I could also be a bleeding heart. It didn’t make me like him anymore, but it certainly made me understand him better. He was full of darkness, even his need for revenge had shaped him. And he had a particular ability to snuff out others, namely me, who held similar darkness. I didn’t go into detail about my time with my mother and the men who came in and out of the apartment. The nights I’d hidden at a neighbor’s house or even in her car just to avoid getting touched. I didn’t talk about the cruelty from the foster parents and even the other kids. Girls who kicked me and cut my hair. Boys who tried things.
No, something told me I didn’t need to say it. That he would already know what I faced. It was the way he rubbed my back. Well, before he started touching my ass. No, before that, there was a tenderness to his touch. Between his willingness to open up and the thoughtful gifts, Xander was actually sort of sweet.
And now I was under him, staring into those glowing silver eyes of his and wondering what the next move would be. He looked at me as if I were a precious keepsake he could not give away. It felt more intimate than even his touch, and my heart skipped like some teenager.
My fingers just seemed to itch with the need to feel him and connect. He was far from a teddy bear, but I was making him one. Why the hell was I so enthralled with this guy? Yes, we could bond over childhood trauma, but that wasn’t one of the qualities on my vision board for the perfect man. I was more of a ‘must also like superhero movies and watching sunsets’ kind of list. Damaged wasn’t up there. I wanted someone who was whole, and Xander was clearly broken. I knew that before he even told me about his life. And yet the longing in his eyes, a desire just for me, made me not care about any of his issues.
I could psychoanalyze him and get into the route of why he loved pain, but it was clear to me that pain was his relief. It was his way of processing all the darkness that had occupied his life for so many years. His way of making lemonade out of lemons. I suppose it was the same way I had made fighting something positive by joining the military and maintaining my combat skills through boot camp. No, I didn’t want to do that for a living, but I would if my store failed.
Damn it, me and the psycho had deep shit in common.
He ran his hands over my curls with the gentlest of touches. I shivered in response, no longer surprised by his care but enjoying his hands on me, even if slight.
“What are you thinking, pretty lady?” he asked in a low voice.
“That maybe you aren’t so bad.”
He chuckled, and the sound ran down my spine like water, causing my center to dampen. I wrapped my legs around him, pressing myself to him. Thank God we were both wearing pants, or he’d feel how aroused I was getting.
“Oh, I’m very bad, darling. It just shows in layers. You get the fun side.”
