Page 31 of Love the Way You Lion
A laughing warmth fills me as I rip a glance his way. “I think I’ve already picked out my outfit. You want to see?”
“Probably best—so I can figure out how to drag you out of it every couple of hours.”
I snort playfully and raise my hand; from the scattered clutter on the floor, a well-worn binder ascends to my palm. Its pages flutter until settling on the right picture. “Here we go.”
He blinks in surprise, his mouth momentarily caught in the wonder of it, before finding his voice to cough. “You wear that, and you won’t emerge from your room to meet and greet anyone, got it?”
My smile turns wicked with mischief. “No need to worry about extracting me from it, though.”
Darkness pools in his eyes as he shifts to another matter. “Is the goddess invited to this? What about Damien and Theodora?”
“The invitation was community-wide—everyone is welcome.”
“That might be a kicker. They don’t come out as often as we’d like.”
I grin broadly. “Damien in fetish gear—now that’s a picture worth a thousand laughs.”
His tone turns teasing as he muses, “Hell, I don’t know. For all I know, he might even consider a suit and tie to be his version of fetish gear.” With a contemplative frown, he asks, “What’s Sampson going as?”
Flipping the binder open, I reveal his chosen attire with a flourish. “He’s gearing up with leather on the bottom, fishnet on the top to highlight his piercings, his hair wild and tangled with leather thongs, and of course, a collar—although I need to sift through the box for the perfect one. We tossed out a whole bunch last month.”
“That sounds incredibly hot,” he remarks, his frown softening into a giggle before he clears his throat. “You really threw out a lot after they…?”
“Yep,” I nod succinctly. “Every single thing they touched was banished—I didn’t want any reminders cluttering the house.”
“I suppose that’ll delight the gnome. And who knows, maybe even that bloody writer if she’s finally done with her nonsense.”
My breath catches as I fix my gaze on the open page, trying to hold in the cyclone of emotions stirring inside me. He’s gone—truly gone. There’s no need to fret over collars at this party because his memory is etched in our silence. AndJesus Christ, shouldn’t sheknow that’s precisely why you shouldn’t attempt toresurrecthim?! Okay—deep breath—I remind myself to laugh it off, to make light of this macabre theme and let it dissolve into the humor of a deli. Why let this grim motif linger? Ah yes, because sometimes I’m an absolute fucking idiot.
After a moment’s attempt to regain control, I shake my head. “I find it doubtful on all counts. First, she won’t even bother with him because she’ll be too busy cackling with her cronies or pouting in the corner. Second, even if he were back, Wilde never really wanted Rafe unless jealousy was simmering. And third—this one’s the kicker—after this brush with death, I don’t think either of us will ever look kindly on that tree branch again, if ever. So, why are you worrying?”
His sigh is soft, the weight of his care evident. “I’m thinking about Talia. I must be sure she likes that getup, and while I’m watching you, no one else will be paying attention to her. If Sampson struts out looking like that? He’ll be swarmed all damn evening.”
“I’m sure he’ll stay glued to her,” I assure him with a playful shrug. “You don’t know him as well as you think. Yes, he flirts and exchanges polite pleasantries, but he’s not nearly as outgoing as he used to be. And besides, you haven’t been to these big parties before—people tend to huddle into little groups, and it won’t be an issue.”
“The things I do for you,” he sighs, his tone a blend of exasperation and fond affection.
“You big blowhard. You’ll have your fun even if disaster strikes, and at worst, you can lounge and growl around me wearing nothing but that dazzling mark emblazoned across your chest.”
His eyes light up mischievously as the idea takes hold. “Only those bloody stripes of latex and leather—and that enormous feather! Now I must decide whatI’ll be wearing.”
“You’ll look hot no matter what, especially if you’re draped in me,” I tease with a sultry smile.
He ponders for a moment before half-jokingly suggesting, “Maybe I’ll just go naked—save an earring and an irritating little bird as a statement.”
I narrow my eyes, playfully stern. “Nuh-uh, buster. I’m not letting those drooling simpletons get a peep at you or your idiot self. Mine’s already covered, so yours will be too. I’d end up wreaking havoc before the night’s over and then have to punish myself—and I do plenty without you.”
He chuckles, preening slightly as his pride swells. Then, with a playful growl, he exclaims, “Oh, great! Now you’ve crowned that pernicious little git, and he’ll never let me forget it.”
“Hmmmph. They need not have their eyes on us anyway,” I murmur lowly as I run my fingers over the delicate feathers of the bird, which preens and coos as if caught up in our private moment
A tender teasing note colors his voice as he says, “I’m feeling all kinds of kindly because you’re promising to eviscerate chits for me. It’s so bloody cute.” He tweaks his nose affectionately and pulls me in closer, prompting a mock glare in return.
“I’m not cute. I’m mean, snarly, and downright shred-y,” I snap back, a playful fire in my tone.
“Hell, yes—you are to the sheep of the world. But to me, you’re as soft and tender as it gets. It’s exactly the same for me,” he counters warmly.
I lean in and kiss him deeply. “I love the lion and the lamb in you.”
