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He cupped her chin and smiled. “I’m afraid,” he admitted softly. “I’m afraid of losing you in two weeks or whenever we take that journey. I’m not sure I’m enough to convince you to stay here.”
He spoke as if she had a choice. Was he implying that he’d eventually give her one? “Let’s not think about that right now. I still don’t have any survival skills, so for all we know that trip could be months away. I told you I won’t run. And I have no desire to go anywhere until I feel safe and know I’m not a danger to anyone else.”
Tipping his head down he kissed her softly. “I’ll always see to your safety. No matter what the future holds.”
She smiled and leaned her ear against his chest, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart. His hand rubbed soft circles over her back. Realizing how relaxed she was in his arms, she let go of him and took a step back. It was best not to get too invested in that sort of comfort.
Clearing her throat, she awkwardly said, “I don’t know how to turn the stove back on.”
He stood and pulled a lever on the side of the porcelain oven. “The wood’s still burning. And the thermostat’s adjusted here, on the side. You just have to let the air in.”
“Right. Mine has a nob.”
He gave her space while she grilled the French toast. A lot had happened today, and they both needed time to process.
Christian was a paradox. He was so stern and resolute, but also fragile and incredibly sensitive. She sensed the good in him, but experienced his faults firsthand, so it was hard to call him a good guy. But maybe he wasn’t as terrible as she originally thought.
When the bread was crisped to a perfect golden brown, she carried the plates to the table. When they sat, Christian lowered his head and Delilah stilled, fork in hand. He’d never done this during the other times they ate, and she didn’t know what to do as he bowed his head in silence, so she stayed perfectly still and waited.
He didn’t move for nearly thirty seconds, but when he lifted his head, he smiled. “Thank you for preparing this lovely meal, Delilah.”
She no longer felt the need to poke fun at his faith because he stopped trying to push it on her. His gratitude was sincere and kind, and she could pay him a kindness in return by respecting his beliefs just as he was coming to respect hers. “You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Well, weren’t they just the happy couple living off in Northern Bumblefuck on the farm.
“I’m not sure what that word was, but I’m certain it was profane. Seven.” He took a bite. “This is delicious.”
“How high do you plan to count?”
“I’ll stop counting when we hit a number that would make it difficult for you to sit.”
She gaped at him. The son of a bitch was really planning to spank her.
“Eight. Your meal’s getting cold.”
CHAPTER 17
The sky was pitch black when they made their way upstairs, putting on a great show without the intrusion of city lights or vehicles. Stars glowed like planets and everything appeared bigger and closer.
“Did you see that?”
Christian approached the window. “What was it?
“A bird just whizzed by.”
“Bats.”
She smiled up at him. “Are you sure it wasn’t a shape-shifting vampire?”
He chuckled. “I told you, we don’t do that.”
Her gaze returned to the sky. “Are there other things out there that do?”
The starlit fields cocooned them in miles of privacy and the world felt a million miles away—a thought that equally comforted her and disturbed her. Her breath hitched as a comet arced overhead.
He loosened the tie and the curtain fell shut. “Myths always have a source. Time exaggerates the truth, but there’s usually some hidden at the root.”
“So, like, werewolves… are they real?”
He pulled back the quilt. “Come to bed.”
Things had changed since that morning, and the animosity between them faded. She willingly, without force or manipulation, climbed into bed.
Christian pulled her close and she let herself have this moment of comfort without guilt or pressure. But the longer she lay there, the more her mind stirred.
So much silence. No horns or sirens or music bumping. Just silence. It could have been peaceful if her mind wasn’t set on sabotaging the moment with ongoing inner turmoil.
The big client she landed right before meeting Christian would have come to collect the work she owed him by now. He was probably pissed and thinking she skipped town with his money. Technically she had, but not intentionally.
Christian’s arm draped over her waist. She closed her eyes, trying not to obsess over things outside of her control. She would get that guy his money. As soon as she got to a phone, she’d set up a meeting and return his deposit—minus her rent.
