Page 60 of Marked By Feral Monsters
Before my professional brain starts calculating a tip, I force the cold, impractical Calista down deep where I can't hear her thoughts, and I let Zair cook me breakfast.
We talk about his life and mine. He asks about the office, and if I'm happy with my job. I don't want to know yet if he's happy with his, so I ask other things. He tells me where he lives, where he grew up. I learn he has a younger brother, and his parents live in the mountains.
After a while, I forget all about my insecurities. And it turns into the best morning—late afternoon, then well into the evening—I've ever had. And I have an uncomfortable realization the more time that passes: I really like this minotaur.
I wake at sunrise, like always. Unlike always, with a smile on my face. After wiping the sleep from my eyes, I roll over, then straddle my favorite minotaur, my legs barely reaching the mattress around his massive frame. Zair chuckles, gently slaps my ass, then insists my body needs a break.
"I think I know my own mind," I growl, crossing my arms petulantly, sitting atop his thighs.
Zair smiles, patient as ever. "Mouse, you take care of your mind. I'll take care of your body. And right now, I'm telling you, it needs a break." His thumb gently circles a bruise on my hip. Sighing, because I know he's right but not wanting to admit it, I crawl off of him.
He gets dressed, digging through an overnight bag he brought over a few days ago. It's five days longer than I paid him to be here. I keep expecting him to say goodbye, to tell me it's been fun, but he's got to get back to work.
But Zair's come and gone twice now, with no mention of other jobs. Other women.
He kisses me on the forehead—licks, really, as his mouth is far too long and wide for a proper kiss, but the gesture is sweet all the same—and stands at the foot of the bed, while I'm still naked and waiting for sex we probably shouldn't be having.
"I've got some errands to run, but I'll be back shortly. Do you need anything while I'm out?"
I shake my head, stuffing the demand to know where he's going down deep, so I don't ruin this. I want details. I want to ask why he has to leave, and where he's going, and does he have another client?
And, worst of all—does this feel as big to him as it does to me? Because I feel fuckingattached.
But I have iron-will, so I just nod and say I'll see him soon. I gave him the key-code three days ago, he can come and go as hepleases. At the time, I wasn't thinking straight—I let him in too quickly.
He doesn't want to be with me, for real. To vacation at a condo in the mountains, to put up with my work hours and sad refrigerator contents. I know I'm delusional, when that's where my mind goes. Life. Just regular, everyday life.
I'm paying him to be here.
"What's wrong?" he asks before turning to leave. He's wearing a button-up dress shirt tucked into black pants. He could be any other man in my office dressed like that.
"Nothing."
His eyes narrow. "You'll tell me later. For now, take a bath. Your body needs it."
My lips are poised to argue, but there's a sparkle in his eyes. He wants me to disobey. It almost makes me laugh, but honestly, I do need a bath. I could use a few hours to regroup, because I can't seem to get enough of this minotaur, and I'll gladly rest my body so we can start all over again tonight, if that's what he has planned.
I draw the bath, and as the water runs, I step into my home office. I've never taken this much consecutive time off, and I don't feel the least bit guilty about it. Of course, my control-freak brain still needs to make sure everything's running smoothly at the office, but I feel no compunction about rushing back in.
I log onto my computer, scan email subjects to see what can wait—all of it—when I notice an alert from my bank. When I open the email, I assume I'm misreading it. It has to be a mistake.
My heart skips a beat, fingers shaking while I do an internet search. I get the number I'm looking for, and a moment later, the same woman who filled out my profile and had me sign all the documents at the Monster Fulfillment Center, answers the phone.
I tell her my name, then say, "I was just calling because I noticed my payment for services with Zair was returned…"
There's quiet on the other line. A few keyboard taps. And then, "Yes, that's correct."
She doesn't say anything else. I want to ask more questions, but, as polite as she is, I suspect she won't tell me much. I open my mouth to ask why, when the sounds of running water in the bathroom grow deeper, like the tub's almost full. I thank her and hang up.
I don't know what to think. I need to ask him directly. It was a lot of money, sure, but I'd give it all if I could keep him. Would he be insulted if I asked?
My brain goes into plan mode, and I think of all the things this could mean, of ways I could ask Zair if he could stay, if we could keep doing this.
But no, I could never share him. Even now, thinking he might be out there with someone else, before getting clean clothes and returning… it makes my fingers curl to fists. He can't share what he's given me with others.
Oh god. He can though, can't he? I checked all my requests off a fucking checklist. Other people have the same desires. And he's good at fulfilling them. That's the whole fucking point.
I crawl into the bath, but it doesn't feel as relaxing as intended. Admittedly, though, I've never been so bruised and sore, and the warm water and bath salts feel good on my muscles.
