Page 36 of Lilacs and Leather

I nod, and exhaustion falls heavily over me. I yawn again, and Rhett chuckles.

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake,” he says smoothly.

I look around my apartment, blushing as I see the couch covered with towels. I turn back to look at him as he moves to stand. I catch his hand in both of mine as he turns away. He looks back at me, curiosity lighting his eyes.

“Do you want to…. I mean, would you be okay with joining me? In bed?” I ask, stumbling over the words.

“Are you sure? If you don’t want me in your nest…” he trails off, and I can see the flush of color on his cheeks.

I look around at the piles of pillows and blankets around me, frowning. “Hold on,” I say quickly, letting go of his hand.

I turn to sit up on my knees, and fuss for a few minutes over the placement of the bedding. He watches in silence, not interrupting me as I make room for him. When I’m satisfied, I turn back around and shift to one side, patting the mattress next to me. My heart flips as his eyes light up, joy brightening his entire face. He moves slowly, as if he expects me to change my mind at any moment. When he finally lays down on his back in the space I made for him, I pull the blanket from around my shoulders and throw it over both of us before tucking into his side. He wraps his arm protectively around me under the covers, and I sigh at the skin-on-skin contact.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

I hum in return, relaxing into him. Rhett leans over, turning off the lamp with his free hand. We lay there for a moment, letting the ticking clock fill the silence. His lips brush the top of my head, and I smile, snuggling closer. The arm around me tightens, his other hand resting on the arm I have draped over his chest.

“I’ve only had an alpha join me during my heat once,” I whisper into the dark.

Somehow, it’s easier to speak when I can’t see his face. Rhett squeezes gently but doesn’t respond. I can feel the tension in his chest against my cheek.

“We’d been together for a while, and I was taking suppressants to control the cycle. He put a lot of pressure on me to stop taking them, saying that we needed to share my heat to know if we’d be compatible for the long haul. We’d had sex, and I’d even taken his knot more than a few times, but it was so important to him that I go through a true heat, and that he was there to break it.”

My voice is distant as I fall back into the memories. The begging, the arguments, the guilt trips, every tactic he’d used to wear me down. Rhett doesn’t say anything as I fall silent, but he rubs my back in slow, soothing motions. His scent shifts slightly, leather edging forward over chocolate.

“He wasn’t like you. I’d barely started having symptoms when he locked us up in this shitty hotel room and… just became insatiable. I don’t know if my heat sent him into a rut, or if he was already on the edge, but it was… really intense and scary. I never went into a full heat, like my body knew that it wasn’t safe to let go like that, and it made him mad. The worst was when he tried to use his bark on me when I refused to bond with him.”

My throat clogs as the memory of that cold command, of how helpless I’d felt as he was locked inside of me, all while fighting to keep what little control I had left. The pain as I’d pulled free before his knot went away. The blood.

Tears fall down my face and splash onto Rhett’s chest. He rolls onto his side, pulling me tight against his chest with both arms. He lets me cry, pressing his lips to my hairline and breathing deeply. When I’ve calmed down a little, I close my eyes and just let myself be held.

“Is that when you got the marks, the ones on yer shoulder and stomach?” he asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

I tense at his question. I can feel the tremble in his arms, how still his chest goes as he waits for my answer. I screw my eyes shut, my shoulders bunching as I brace myself.

“No,” I breathe, another silent tear escaping from behind my closed eyes.

I whimper as a savage growl spills from Rhett’s throat and his arms become steel bands, holding me to his panting chest. He hooks a leg over mine, practically laying on top of me. I can hear his teeth grinding in my ear as he buries his face in my neck and hair. It’s not a true alpha rage, but the instinct to soothe and submit still flares to life in my chest. I try to make myself small, but his limbs are tangled in mine, keeping me pinned in place. I whimper again, my head falling back to expose my throat in submission, my body shaking.

Suddenly, Rhett pulls his head back and cups my face in both of his hands. Even in the dim light, I can see the barely contained fury in his icy blue eyes. He brings his lips to mine, and his touch is so gentle that a fresh stream of tears breaks free from behind my eyelids. His thumbs brush them away, his hold on my head firm but unbelievably tender. He pulls away, leaving me gasping and aching for more. The rage is still there in his eyes, but there’s a softness there that catches me off guard. He presses his forehead to mine, and my eyes fall closed at the intimacy.

“To know that there was ever a time when you weren’t treated like the absolute treasure you are makes me want to burn nations to the ground from the injustice of it all. For as long as you’ll have me, Lydia, I will do everything in my power to atone for the wrongs those before me committed. And, so help me God, I ever cross paths wit tat bottom-feeding scum of a fucking alpha who hurt you, dere won’t be enough of ’im left ta bury.”

Rhett’s dangerous words, the passion that makes his voice tremble brings a wholly different kind of shiver to my body and I don’t fight the little smile that pulls at my cheeks. I should be afraid of Rhett, should be frightened by the violence and promise of his declaration. But, as I reach a hesitant hand up and place the tips of my fingers gently against his cheek, I realize with a swoop of wonder low in my belly, that I have never felt safer.

Fifteen

Lydia

There are days when I just wake up and know that it’s going to be a bad one.The day of the MacMillian wedding is one of those days. It’s the first wedding of April, and one of the first Gabby and I will work together alone this wedding season. In theory, it should be a pretty easy drop off. The order is relatively simple, but the bad luck sets in as Gabby and I load the truck that Saturday morning.

It starts when I drop a vase. The air is humid, so condensation formed quickly, and it just slipped out of my hands, shattering on the workroom floor. It wasn’t a complicated arrangement, but not having my help to load the truck set us back by a good half hour. We hit traffic on the way out of town and get stuck behind a tractor for several miles. Gabby takes all of these setbacks in stride, her upbeat attitude unshakable, which only serves to make my gut twist more. Thankfully, we pull into the driveway of Bright Hills Estate before I fully get worked up about being anxious over being anxious.

The venue is a beautiful farmhouse set on a hill surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and sloping lawns. I’d worked a few events here, and I fall a little more in love with the slice of pastoral paradise every time. There’s been some construction, but it’s all expertly hidden behind tasteful fencing that leaves the casual visitor none the wiser to the ongoing expansion. We find a spot near the loading dock, and it doesn’t take long before Gabby and I are sweating through our clothes. Spring made an all-too-brief appearance, and summer was charging full steam ahead.

By the time we finish unloading the truck, something in the back of my head has me on edge. An event coordinator usually meets us within moments of arrival so they can check our delivery off the list and get us out of the way. But today, Gabby and I are among the group of vendors milling about the loading dock, waiting for someone to talk to. The group grows by the minute, and I glance at my watch several times. The wedding will start in a few hours, but no one is really sure what to do.

“Shame they don’t have more coordinators on staff.” Gabby sighs pointedly.