Page 30 of Seizing Control: Part One

“Yeah.” Bumping my shoulder to Cherub’s I acknowledge her shock, then I roll the dice to see if the odds are on my side or not. “Now, I don’t necessarily agree with his assessment, but it made me realise that if I’m feelin’ the way I am after touchin’ you once, I should probably cut Venom some slack while he tries to get past nearly five years with you. On the same token, that means I need to leave you alone too.” Anticipating her protests, I speak over her, “I pushed you too hard. Came on too strong; too fast. Took advantage of your broken heart because I was impatient… Duchess, you’ve got half a decade of history with Venom—actually, you have a lifetime with him to get past before you can even think about startin’ a relationship with me.”

The need to argue clouds her bright eyes.

I observe the panic flare in the blue depths, then I watch my duchess do what she does best. She denies her desires in favour of protecting the men she loves. Me. Venom. Her brothers. The club. We all rank above her needs.

She won’t choose.

Not yet anyway…

Her next words compound my decision to wait for the odds to swing my way. “Does that mean we’re friends again?” When I remain silent, quietly taking in the lies she tells herself to deny the reality of our situation, Cherub closes her eyes and whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. Not ever.”

“Friends,” I tell her with a sharp nod. Infusing my voice with cast-iron promise, I try to slice through her reticence with my vow, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, and no matter how this all plays out, I never will.”

The doubt that fills her beautiful face makes me bay for blood.

Brutus’ blood.

Venom’s.

Mine.

Between the three of us, we’ve let her down so often that she hesitates to believe anyone will choose to unconditionally stay by her side. Cherub’s been deserted too many times. Lost too much. Unwilling and unable to trust any man, my duchess’ heart has become impenetrable.

I’ll find a way inside her steel walls.

I’ll prove myself worthy of her faith.

I’ll renew the spirit that’s been shattered by the harsh hand she’s been dealt by life.

But that’s a mission for another day.

What she needs right now is a good old dose of normalcy.

“So, Netflix n chill?” I ask in the smartarse tone she loves to hate. “I’m dyin’ to find out whether Klaus and Elijah patch things up.” Riffling through the pantry, I emerge with her favourite snacks and a plan to make the most of her sobriety. “My room or yours?”

“Your bed is bigger,” Cherub quips. Her smile is close to genuine, even as she does her best to pretend that memories of the hour we shared in my bed didn’t flare in her mind’s eye in technicolour, exactly like they did in mine. “So, I’ll grab the drinks and change into something more comfortable… you get yourself organised, then set up the sound system. I need Elijah’s delicious accent in surround sound.”

During the fifteen minutes it takes my duchess to reappear, I worry that she’ll back out.

When she timidly enters my room, clutching mineral water and two glasses, and promptly stumbles at the sight of me, my heart jumps into my throat. I swallow deep as Cherub’s gaze roams my chest. The fresh tattoo over my heart catches her attention before she averts her eyes toward the television where I’ve got the latest episode of The Originals queued up, ready to go.

“Come here,” I demand in a low voice.

Like a wet dream come to life, my duchess submits to my command without hesitation. Wordlessly, long legs bare in tiny sleep shorts, she approaches my bed, the scene of the crime we committed after the concert and climbs onto the side of the mattress she claimed all those months ago. The sight of her, blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders, a thin chemise hiding her generous tits from my hungry eyes, is electrifying. My knees threaten to buckle as I move to my side. We settle against the bedhead, like we have so many times before, and attempt to watch the television show we stopped bingeing after I froze her out to protect her from the Maddisons threat.

Stiff as a board next to me, Cherub’s anxiety is palpable.

“Duchess,” I croon.

“Yeah?” Her nervousness is hard to witness, yet it buoys me at the same time. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way her pupils blow out when she looks at me. When Cherub swallows deep, the need to collar her throat flares to life. “Do you need something?”

Rather than pull her closer, I allow her the choice. Patting the mattress at my side, I lift my arm as I command in a low growl, “Get over here.”

Again, Cherub submits without thought.

She snuggles into my side, instantly relaxing when my arm drops around her shoulders to hold her tight. In unison, we release the breath we’ve been holding and the tension circling us evaporates.

“No more overthinkin’. Not about me. Not tonight or any night.” My reprimand is rough, raw, and real. I hate that it even needs to be said, but I continue telling her how things are going to play out anyway. “We have all the time in the world for things to fall into place. Just gotta trust that they will.”

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