Page 64 of Whispers of Fire

Once dinner's ready, I join her and try to hide how fuckin’ eager I am to see her reaction. But before that, there's somethin’ else I have to do. Reaching into the pantry, I pull out a box of Oreos and set it down in front of her with a grin.

“Dessert first, sweetheart." Nothing wrong with breaking a few rules, that's how I like it actually. Her eyes widen in surprise, and then she smiles—a genuine, joyful smile that lights up the room. Taking the biscuit in her hand, she observes it like it's a strange alien thingy, turnin’ it on both sides, then bringin’ it near her tiny nose to smell it. Closing her eyes at the sugary scent, she takes a bite and hums with pleasure. Openin’ up her eyes, she mouths “Thank you” with a little smile.

Damn, that was the sweetest thing in the world.

“Wait until you try pizza, nothin’ will taste good afterwards,” I say with a grin on my face cause, fuck, she makes me happy. As we settle in to eat, her blue eyes keep glancing at me.

"Just ask, sweetheart, I don't bite," I say, my voice rough yet reassuring. I want her to feel comfortable, not afraid of me. I'm used to people being afraid of me, but I don't want that with her.

She slides a piece of paper over to me. "Tell me about you, your work. I feel like I hardly know anything about it when you know so much more about me."

I take a moment to study her, taking in the way she’s completely focused on me like I'm important or some shit. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only curiosity. I don't like talkin’ about myself; there's not much to say that wouldn't scare people away.

"Alright," I say, breaking the silence. Taking a sip of my drink, I gather my thoughts. “When I'm not here with ya, I'm mostly at the club, or out doing business for the club.” I pause, searchin’ for the right way to explain my world to someone who had never been a part of it. "There's a lot of different things I do. Day-to-day stuff, like handlin’ accounts and makin’ sure things run smoothly. And there's also… hum, another side of the business." I glance at her, searchin’ for any reaction but she stays still, holding on to every word I say.

"What I do… it’s…”

Fuck, how can I even explain without her running away from me?

“What I do, it ain't all pretty. There's some real gritty shit I gotta deal with, stuff that could scare ya," I say, struggling to share the true nature of what I do. Killing, torturing, making surprises visits to people who fuck with the club then sending then to Carter for him to play.

Not the kind of conversation you wanna have over dinner.

I take another bite of my meal, momentarily distracting me from our conversation.

"Just… just know that I ain't no hero," I add, my tone softer now. "I'm just a man tryin' to do right by the ones I care about.”

Cause it’s true. I’ll kill every damn day if it’s to protect the club, and I have no issue with it. I protect those I care about. But I can’t tell her that, I can’t tell her that I’m a killer. She’ll run away from me and I can’t. I just can’t take it. She’ll see me for what I am one day and leave me, a disgusted look in her eyes at the man she once trusted.

That’s who I am, not a fuckin’ Prince Charming.

I search for a reaction that could tell me she doesn't want anythin’ to do with me anymore, but I can't read her.

“Talk to me, Angel, anythin’.” I need to know, even if deep down I already know the answer.

You've got nothin’ to offer to a girl like her, you're just a killer, giving a shot at somethin’ men like you are not allowed to have .

Pulling out the notebook, she writes somethin’ and gives it to me, her eyes suddenly lightin’ up.

"Those who cast shadows of judgment shall dwell in the darkness they create.

- Ascendium 4:16"

Damn. Didn’t see this coming.

She quoted her bible, the book I’ve seen her take with her each time she gets out of her house. Turns out not everythin’ is trash in it. I’ll make an exception for this.

I sigh. Even if she doesn’t judge me, it doesn’t mean she’ll accept me. As if she was sensin’ my restraint, she laces her fingers with mine, talking my breath away.

“Vox,” a broken murmur comes out of her perfect full lips.

“I… like… you,” she manages to say, so low I can barely hear it without being focused solely on her. She winces, her eyes closing for a second before holding a hand on her throat.

Damn, it looks painful.

She likes me.

That's what she just said.

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