Page 15 of Chains
Her eyes held mine, searching.I saw no judgment there, only an openness and the pure belief of what she said.She made my fucking chest ache.This woman, with her weird cats and her smelly witches’ brew, somehow saw past all my walls, all my defenses.
“For you, I could try,” I promised, the words feeling like a vow.
Something shifted in her expression, her body leaning toward mine like a flower seeking sunlight.I closed the remaining distance between us, one hand coming up to cup her face while the other slid around her waist, pulling her against me.
When our lips met, it was different from our first kiss.No hesitation, no surprise.Just heat and hunger and the strange, fragile feeling of falling into something I couldn’t control.She made a soft sound against my mouth, her hands sliding up my chest to rub over my shoulders, then around my neck.
I could have lost myself in that kiss, drowned in it willingly.But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew if we didn’t slow down now, we wouldn’t stop at all.And she deserved better than a quick fuck in the theater room with the club waiting outside.
I broke the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers as we both struggled to catch our breath.Her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted and swollen from my kiss.And the most beautiful, softest smile on her face I’d ever seen in my fucking life.
“Let’s go back to the party,” I said softly.
Her eyes opened, surprise and confusion clear in their depths.“What?”
“We can talk.Get to know each other.”I brushed my thumb across her lower lip.“Think of it as speed dating.”
A slow smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes in a way that made my heart stutter.“Speed dating with a room full of bikers watching our every move?”
“They’re invested now,” I said dryly.“Got money riding on us.”
She laughed, the sound washing over me like a balm.“Well, we shouldn’t disappoint them, should we?”
I took her hand, twining my fingers with hers.It felt right, her small hand in mine.And, oh, my fucking God, when the fuck did I fucking hold hands with a woman?Whatever this was between us, whatever it might become, I wasn’t running from it.I wasn’t running from life.For the first time in years, I thought I wanted to stay, to see where this road might lead.
“No,” I agreed, squeezing her hand gently.“We definitely shouldn’t disappoint them.”
Chapter Five
Elvira
The industrial kitchen of the Kiss of Death compound smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and pumpkin spice, a stark contrast to the usual scents of fried meat and grease.I swear, the first time Carrie brought me in here the place smelled like a grease trap.Not because it was dirty or anything, but because they’d deep fried enough onion rings to feed a moderate-size army the day before.I stood at the massive steel counter, flour smeared across my cheek and dusted on my black apron with the yellow cat eyes over my boobs, while Chains measured sugar with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.Three carved pumpkins with electric candles flickered from the windowsill, casting dancing shadows across the walls.Plastic skeletons hung from the exposed pipes alongside cobwebs I’d strung up that morning over the windows and on the back side of the kitchen away from anything important.
“You’re supposed to crack the eggs in a separate bowl first,” I said, watching Chains hover an egg over the mixing bowl.“In case you get a shell in it.”
He shot me a look that would have terrified most people but only made me smile.“I know how to crack a fuckin’ egg.”
As if on cue, a tiny piece of shell dropped into the batter.Chains cursed under his breath, his massive tattooed hand looking ridiculous as he fished for the fragment with his pinky finger.
“Told you so,” I sang, sliding over to help him.Our shoulders touched, and I felt that now familiar electricity buzz between us.It was so stimulating I trembled with the adrenaline and sexual energy.
Just a week in the compound, and already the kitchen felt like mine.The women had embraced my Halloween enthusiasm with unexpected verve, helping me transform the utilitarian space into a spooky wonderland.Orange and black streamers twisted around light fixtures, rubber bats hung from the ceiling, and tiny plastic tombstones lined the windowsills beside my carved pumpkins.
We continued working.Chains grumbled the entire time, but the man paid very close attention to what I did and followed my lead like he’d been helping me bake for ages.It wasn’t long before the last batch was in the oven, and we started on the cleanup.
“Jesus Christ!”Chains jumped as Salem darted between his legs, nearly causing him to drop the mixing bowl.“These cats are gonna be the death of me.”
“They’re good luck,” I insisted, smiling as Lucifer followed close behind, tail high in the air like a furry periscope.Lucifer stopped and looked up at Chains and hissed before continuing on.
“That’s not what the entire fuckin’ world says about black cats,” Chains grouched, but I noticed he didn’t move away when Salem rubbed against his leg the next time.Progress.
“The Egyptians worshipped cats, you know.They were considered divine.”
“Yeah, well, we ain’t in Egypt.”His tone was gruff, but I still caught him giving Salem soft looks whenever she brushed his ankles.
I laughed, reaching for the cinnamon.“You don’t actually believe black cats are bad luck.You’re just using it as an excuse.”
His hands stilled on the mixer.“An excuse for what?”
