Page 57 of Nora's Kraken

“Right,” I confirm, finally reaching his lips. “And that sounds wonderful.”

21

Elias

Monday morning comes all too soon.

Standing in the doorway of Nora’s room, watching her put the finishing touches on her makeup for the day, I’m torn between going to her and giving her a kiss that will stay imprinted on her lips until she’s home tonight, and simply standing here and admiring her.

I opt for the latter, and wonder for the thousandth time what in the hell possessed me to put the brakes on things. The rational part of me knows it was the right decision, but as she slicks some gloss on her lips and gives her hair a toss, that part has gone strangely silent. It’s the kraken at the fore now—wanting, greedy, hungry for her.

Catching my eye in the mirror, my treasure grins at me, and I have to brace my hands on the doorframe to keep myself in check.

“Ready?” she asks cheerfully.

When Nora stands, I want to groan out loud when I see what she’s wearing. A pair of tight jeans that hug the swells of her thighs, and a sweater with a neckline that dips low enough to show some tantalizing cleavage.

She walks over to me, and I don’t think I’m imagining the way she takes her time, the sway she puts in her hips, or the knowing, taunting look in her eye.

Teasing little siren.

When she reaches me, she raises her hands to grasp lightly at my lapels, and her Cheshire-cat smile lets me know she’s well aware of what she’s doing.

“I like you in a suit.”

I let out a long breath, laced with the faintest edge of a growl. “Remind me again who decided we should take things slow?”

“I believe that would be you, kraken,” she says, leaning up to press a brief kiss against my lips.

When she makes a move to pull back, I grasp the back of her neck and drag her closer, giving her a kiss she’ll be feeling for the rest of the day.

Nora’s eyes are glazed when we part, and her body’s slumped into mine, trusting me to hold her up.

If only the rest of her could trust me that much.

Because it’s there, right there, in her eyes. Glazed though they may be, there’s hesitation there, too, some lingering resistance to give in completely. This weekend has been wonderful, lazy, normal, but throughout, there’s still been a piece of her that doesn’t believe she should be here.

Whether it’s her belief that she’s imposing on my hospitality, her reservations about the bond between us, or just her lingering stress and fear over everything happening with Sorenson, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, though, it’s enough to quiet the monster for now.

“Little siren,” I murmur as I brush one last kiss against her lips. “I won’t have you late to work on my account.”

Nora huffs out a laugh, and even though it seems impossible to leave the safe, quiet peace we’ve made for ourselves these past two days, I take her hand and head for the door.

After dropping Nora off at the bookstore—with Travis right on time to start her security detail—I don’t head to Morgan-Blair Tower.

I don’t do anything for a couple of minutes, in fact, as I sit unable to pull away from the parking spot where I dropped her off.

My entire body is thrumming with the wrongness of it, of leaving my mate alone when I know there’s danger for her somewhere out there. It’s worse now than it’s ever been, and it overwhelms me for a few long minutes as I sit in the car and try to get a grip on myself.

Nora is safe. I know she’s safe. She’s working an 8-5 shift today with two of her coworkers, in a well-trafficked area of downtown, with security on her the entire time.

Nothing is going to happen to her, but I’ll be damned if I can get the kraken side of myself to understand that.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I put the vehicle in drive and pull out onto the street. Instead of heading toward the office, though, I have another destination in mind this morning.

The mood inside the Paranormal Citizens Relations Bureau is noticeably subdued from the moment I walk through the door. The whole place is usually a hive of activity and conversation, a hub for paranormal creatures from all walks of life who either work at or visit the Bureau for the various creature services offered as a part of the ongoing effort to integrate our ilk into the human world.

This morning, however, conversations are muted, faces drawn, and as I approach the desk and catch Ruthie’s attention, even her usual sunshine is dimmed.

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