Page 136 of Nine-Tenths

Dav hesitates.

"If you wanted to…" he starts slowly. "If youreallywanted to. I would… I could… no one would be happy about it, but I could… bear it."

The way he says it makes it sound like it would be the same as me dying.

"Would they…?" I reach around, slide my hands under his loose shirt, trace the welts there with my palms. "Would they do this to you again?"

Instead of answering, Dav slides his face against my neck, tucks in close, inhales.

We shuffle off the bed. He wraps his arms around my waist.

I wrap mine over his shoulders.

Someone starts swaying and somehow, ridiculously, we're dancing in slow circles, swaying in our bare feet to the memory of tonight’s band.

Miserable and desperate.

"Doesn't matter," Dav says. "I'd make them leave you alone. That's what's important. When you go."

"IfI go," I correct with a pinch to that beautiful bum of his.

"If you go," he says, but he makes it sound like it's inevitable.

"Hey, can you look at me?"

Dav lifts his head slowly. At first I think he's going to lean back, but he simply slides up until our foreheads are touching. Eyes closed, he inhales again, gentle, and then leans down and finds my mouth on the first, blind try. We kiss, a slow slide, like how we dance. I imagine Dav asking me, with each soft kiss, if I’m alright, if I’m happy, if I’m still his. I reply with teeth and tongue that I’mannoyed, and shaken up, and absolutely don’t want to think about the fact that the act of kissing him is actually mutating my DNA right this very moment,so keep me distracted with making out, thank you. Only then does he pull back and meet my gaze.

"I'm not going," I tell him, and it's true. "I may never go. But I also don't know how to stay yet."

"I've waited this long. I can be patient," Dav insists. "Until you're ready."

"Ready to be owned by you?" I ask, and yeah, it sounds bitter.

"Ready to find a way to be equals in a dynamic that's trying to prevent us from doing so. Ready to… to fight, if we have to."

"Ever the soldier?"

"You're mine, Colin," Dav says fiercely, cupping my head in his hands. "And in all the ways that matter, I amyours. And if I have to tear down everything so they understand that, I will."

"You hopeless romantic." I won't lie, it's swoon-worthy.

"No," Dav says, and suddenly the determined expression on his face curls up into something predatory and dangerous. In a good way. "You're the romantic. And it’s not hopeless."

His strong fingers slide down my throat, and in one quick push, I'm up against the wall. There are hands on my thighs, the sound of his knees hitting the carpet, and then everything stutters and the rest of the world beyond his hot mouth ceases to matter. I get my hands into Dav's hair, knuckles tight.

"Stay," he moans, before he opens his mouth and does his best to take away my ability to ever walk anywhere ever again.

One of the nice things about having staff is that you don't have to yank on your pants and careen towards the door whenever the bell rings. But it also means that you can't dramatically slam said door in an unwanted visitor's face, either.

I wonder if dragons have the ability to sense each other's presence. Because when we're fetched downstairs mid-morning grind by Sarah, Dav isn't surprised to see Lt. Gov. Dipshit sitting on the antique sofa in the fussy parlor, sipping tea. Simcoe's in another black suit, white shirt, subtle lapel stitching. Dignified. Boring.

For all that he's just sitting there, elegant and patient, the sight of Simcoe under this roof feels like a hard punch right against my sternum, knocking the air out of me. It feels… wrong, somehow. Violating. Challenging.

Just plain bitchy.

Dav had pulled on dress pants and a button down, and now I realize what had looked off about them. He's drab, too. Also dignified. Also boring. I stop in the doorway, and flatten my hair, trying to make it look like my boyfriend (husband? Owner?) wasn’t in the middle of railing me into the mattress when Simcoe arrived.

"Alva," Simcoe says, setting aside the cup and saucer, but not rising to his feet.

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