Page 18 of Ferocious Nightmare

I shook my head. "You're a stubborn little nightmare."

Her lips twisted in a half smile, like she was proud of that fact.

Making a decision, I stood, holding out my hand to her, an offer to help her stand. "Come on. Shower and get dressed. We need to talk, but not here.”

* * *

The sun was just comingup over the horizon, an appropriate metaphor for the new beginning between us.

I stepped out of the car, managing to avoid answering the bajillion questions Aster asked on the drive over, and sat on the hood. Aster scrambled to meet me, and I took her hand to guide her in between my legs, facing out across the horizon.

When you live and work in the city, it's easy to forget that the world beyond was just a desert. Arid. Hot. Barren.

We’d left the city behind us and the brown and red rock views stretched before us, a good reminder that the world turned with or without you.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, staring at the vibrant orange and red colors arching across the horizon.

I wanted to tell her it wasn't nearly as gorgeous as she was. That the red in the sky wasn't as vibrant as the color of her hair. Or that the beauty in nature would never match the vitality of her soul.

Instead, I kept my mouth shut, hooking my arms across her shoulders, and let her live in the moment.

She leaned her back against my chest, watching the sun come up over the mountain skyline. I watched her instead, tracing my eyes over the sexy line of her neck, the sharpness of her cheekbone, thick eyelashes that fluttered.

Finally, I spoke. “I need to know, Aster. Do you understand why it was important for you tell me about your plans for escape?”

She made an exasperated noise, and tried to swivel towards me, but I squeezed her, stopping her. "Don't move. Just answer the question."

“Fine,” she snapped, “yes, I understand.” She surprised me by doing what I asked. “Nero found out that Bourbon wasn’t his real son, and he’d intended on reenacting the red wedding from Game of Thrones by killing them both.”

“Exactly. So, now that you understand that, why is Dante telling me that you’re misbehaving in front of my father?”

“Because, Coulter!” She exhaled a frustrated breath. “I’m not some chicka he can push around. I need—”

“What you need, is to do what he says. You saw those women in the room that one night. I don’t want you to end up like them.”

“I won’t!” she exclaimed. “I would die first.”

“Let’s go for not dying, if possible.”

She barked out a laugh. “You actually care, Coulter?”

“Believe me, Aster. If I didn’t care, you wouldn’t have eaten enough chocolate chip cookies to feed all of Africa.”

She gasped. “I can’t help that! They’re so good!”

“I know! Believe me, I know how good they are. And yet, not once have you ever left one for me.”

“I didn’t know—” she sputtered.

“Not a damn, single one, Aster.” I tsked, “I’m almost embarrassed for you.”

“But I—"

“Shhh,” I pressed my lips against the skin of her neck, then opened my mouth, suckling and tasting her. “I’m just teasing.”

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes fluttering. “You should never tease a woman over her favorite dessert.”

“And you should never tease a man over his.”

---