Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and I will always be in your corner,” I tell him and squeeze his hands. I can smell all those samples on him now, and while it’s a dense cacophony of scents, I still want to taste them on his skin.
“For real, or just pretend? I’m getting a little confused.” The studs on his jacket might be a warning sign, but I can see they’re there to protect a vulnerable core, which I now see shining through his big brown eyes. Only now it strikes me he might want the kind of protection I’d provide for my partner.
I didn’t expect this question. My world works in absolutes, and when I feel dedication, it’s so complete it burns in my chest. That’s how I feel about him now, and this compulsive need to protect him is not a fantasy nor a lie. Do I really have to be reasonable?
“That depends whether you stay my husband after Christmas is over.”
“So that’s on the table?” A playful smile is back on his lips and I’m surprised how much joy that brings me. It’s a strange dichotomy, since I thrive on the power I’ve got over him, yet enjoy the way he’s already wrapping me around his little finger. Is this what it would be like to have a husband? A man to cherish, talk to every day, and watch the sunsets with? Who knows, maybe with time he’d even learn to mend the simple injuries I sometimes acquire on the job?
Could my solitary life change for the better if this guy were a permanent fixture in it? What’s the worst that can happen? He saw me kill and isn’t losing his mind over it. Finding someone who accepts what my family is involved in has always been the greatest hurdle.
“Nothing is off the table. I like you, and I think you feel the same about me already, don’t you?” I ask, squeezing his knee.
He bites his lip and nods. “Probably a little too much. I even got you something.” He pulls a lip balm from his pocket. It has the lavish Jardin de Oud branding.
I shouldn’t be that surprised, but I still click my tongue and shake my finger at him. “That’s a nasty habit, but you’re forgiven this time, handsome.”
We look at one another for a moment I want to last forever, but in reality, time is ticking by, and we still have plenty of shopping to do. “Let’s book ourselves in for hair and manicure appointments and then crash the shops. I won’t be leaving your side,” I promise and rise to my feet, offering him my hand.
First, we visit a different perfume store where I learn my husband’s favorite scents are rose, orchid, and jasmine. He even tells me why he likes them, how he finds it fun to subvert expectations when the scent contrasts with the rest of his look. I see that softness in him now, and it pisses me off to think he admitted no one ever stood up for him. What kind of shitty losers were taking advantage of him?
This time, the staff attend to him like he’s royalty and I love to see him flourish. When treated right, he’s not rude to anyone, and I’m surprised at how polite he can be when he wants to.
We send the bags of cosmetics to the visitor center for later pickup, and head to get clothes next. I can be a little indulgent with my shopping, as I favor good quality, cashmere, and Belgian chocolate, but today, I’m more excited to swipe my card for my husband than to treat myself. Maybe it’s the thrill of the fuck-you to my family I’m about to enjoy, or being here with a man on my arm in public, but I’m giddy like the first time I kissed a man. It was on a vacation in Italy, and I tell Killian about that summer over lunch.
After some initial coaxing, he goes all-in at some of the brands that sport alternative clothing styles. He doesn’t need to rip his own jeans anymore when I can drop five grand on a pair that looks like they came straight out of the trash. One of the rips goes right across his thigh, and I’m excited to see that bit of flesh. He insists on keeping his jacket, but hardly minds getting two others.
I also get him a pair of boots. They look as if the cobbler made them out of creatures from the Alien franchise, and while I suspect they won’t be very practical for everyday wear, I can’t say no to Kill’s pleading eyes. We then take a break at the beauty parlor, where Kill gets his hair styled. He doesn’t change it much, but his undercut gets a trim, and he gets every hair nourishing treatment on offer. While one person works on his green mane, another tends to his nails. By the time we leave, his fingers look as if he’s dipped them into the heart of a vampire, and one of the women working there even offers him a complimentary eyeliner application.