Page 36 of Cardinal House
And then he just holds me.
His chin to the top of my head, arms secure around my waist, my back, and my eyes close as I breathe him in, lilies and teakwood, strong and floral, warm.
“What did you dream about, Little Moon?” he asks me quietly.
Wolf has a naturally deep voice, it’s a bit gruff, gravelly, loud, but he quells all of that when he speaks to me.
“Monsters,” I whisper back, my lips brushing his chest, the barest smattering of dark hairs over his tight, tanned skin.
“What sort of monsters, baby girl?” he asks me in a hush, both of us still and comfortable, relaxed where we’re curled up together in the steamy bathroom.
Two words, and I don't have to think about them at all before they fall off of my tongue, “Human ones.”
Chapter 16
Wolf
It’s not watching as such, the way my eyes track her every movement, twitch, yawn, blink, breath, it’s more a needy, psychotic study.
Luna slept for days, only waking up to reach for me. Whimpers and pained cries disturbed her sleep, but she only woke through the silent moments, when the nightmares must have been at their worst. Her heart pounding, her eyes snapping open wide, and her hands clammy and clawing for me, the bed often wet.
It’s fucked up because I’m fucking living for these moments.
She needs me.
I’m sick.
Though, because of her terrible sleep patterns, I’ve had the bare fucking minimum myself. It’s why I sit out here now, on the front porch of the mortuary. Luna out cold inside, the door open at my back, the summer air catching on the breeze and rushing through the dark halls. I bring the blunt to my lips, inhaling slow and deep, my lungs filling with the expansion of my chest.
There’s nothing around here for miles. I bought up one-hundred-fifty hectares surrounding this place. I snapped it up for a good price too. The last owner died, his son wanted nothing to do with the property, I bought it, then started buying up all the land surrounding it.
Perfect for disposing of body parts.
It’s what we do, after all.
Specialise in.
The Blackwells.
Disposals.
It’s what my girl does too, ‘cleans up messes.’
Match made in hell.
I reach down to adjust my cock. It’s constantly fucking throbbing now. Not an issue I’ve had in the past, but even in the hospital, a fresh bullet hole through my fucking heart and I was poppin’ a fucking boner every time I thought of her.
I might be taking care of Luna. I might be nursing her back to health. I might be preparing to take out every last motherfucking cunt that ever looked at her wrong, let alone touched her.
Killed her.
But I still want her. In all the baser, carnal, sinfully depraved ways any Blackwell man wants the object of his obsession. I look at her lying there in that makeshift bed, my place at her side, an armchair pulled in from one of the many unused rooms for me to sleep in. I could put her in my bed, but I want her in there when I don’t have to restrain myself.
I’m not sure I could, even with her injured, even with her frightened and cowering at every unusual creak in the old stone building. So we’ll stay in the visitation room until it’s time.
She doesn’t like to be left alone. Even when she uses the bathroom, I wait outside, the door ajar, while she takes care of her business. But every few moments, she calls my name making sure I’m still right there, and blood shoots to my cock like a bolt of lightning.
Sticky-sweet smoke drifts from my nostrils, my exhale slow and drawn out because, fuck, it feels good to be sitting out here in the middle of the night without it fucking raining. July is right around the corner but summer is officially here.