Page 17 of Villainous Fate

“I’m so proud of you, mio amorino.I know you will return ready to defend our family.” She says, pinching my cheek a little harder than necessary. “And then I need some grandbabies to spoil!”

“Momma! Not with the bambinis again!” I chide knowing how much she pictures being able to help raise her children’s babies. Guilt hits me again as I think about how little she will see them when we leave.

We will visit.

She will visit.

“Oh my boy, I know you will be the first to bring them to me. Ashley’s too young, and Luca will need his heart to lead the pack first. So my hopes fall to you,” she says with a big smile.

“Well, I promise I will start practicing just as soon as I get back,” I say with a mischievous grin that has her swatting my chest playfully.

“Al diavolo quello! That part is not for a mother’s ears.”

I laugh, fully allowing the moment with her to sink in before I take my leave of them both and head back to my room to grab my bags.

I wasn’t bringing much for the retreat. From Luca’s accounts, I would spend a good deal of my time shifted, so I brought some comfortable sweats and t-shirts along with a journal full of lined paper to write Grace.

Tearing the top page off, I fold it neatly, ready to give her the first letter as I leave tonight. It’s not long or poetic, but in it, I share my heart with her. I know this will be our main form of communication over the next eight months, so I have been working on making my handwriting neater so she can read them.

If this is the only way I can remind her who she belongs to, whose heart she carries, and whose forever she agreed to, I will write to her every chance.

Grace Davidson will know she is loved, and when all of this ends, I will spend the next decade of our lives apologizing to her body for making her wait.

Let’s get this fucking over with.

Chapter 10

Grace

Heshouldbehereby now.

The chill of the late November evening has me rubbing my arms idly as I wait for him to arrive. As is tradition, the head enforcer will take Deacon to the rendezvous point where he’ll encounter his first challenge, and if he survives it within the rules, he will stay and be ranked.

Deacon won’t tell me what the challenge is or give me an honest answer as to how likely he is to be able to complete it. I tried for weeks to get the information out of him, but his answer remained the same: it is a test of will.

Whatever that means.

His footsteps jogging to the parking lot from his house reach my ears, and I turn to face him. I’m always taken aback by my body's visceral response to him. Electricity glides along my skin, pulling me to him without thought.

His green duffel bag hits the floor as he scoops me into the air. My legs wrap around his waist, and my lips find his without hesitation.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s rough and driven by both passion and fear. My heart rate beats in my ears as his teeth pull at my bottom lip, claiming it. My hands rake through his thick black hair, tugging and gripping as I fight to be closer to him, to be a part of him. His mouth moves to trail kisses down my neck, and I gasp for air in an attempt to breathe him in. A moan escapes me, and I drop my forehead to his as we freeze there, panting, wrapped in this embrace.

“This isn’t goodbye,” I whisper, unsure if I am telling or asking him.

“No, Tails, there will never be a goodbye. I’m yours, and every breath that I breathe is yours. You own me, mind, body, and soul. I’ll be with you even when I’m not here. When you miss me, write to me. Give me your words to hold onto since I won’t be able to hold onto you.” He punctuates his statement by squeezing me tighter before lowering me to the floor.

Before I respond, he returns to his discarded bag and pulls a folded paper from the front.

“Speaking of, I have your first letter right here.” He extends it to me, “You can read this one when you start to miss me. Hopefully, by then, I will already have another in the mail. Remember, for retreat, I can only receive mail if they choose to give it to me, so if you don’t have a response know I'm fine, it’s not because I’m not thinking about you; it’s because I haven't gotten them.”

For a moment, he appears nervous, and as I look at him, I see the boy who befriended me all those years ago. He was gentler then, not as hard as now, back before his innocence was stripped, and his wolf filled the spaces where his father left scars.

My hand lifts, settling on his cheek as I meet his gaze.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” I ask, knowing his penchant for risk-taking when it comes to himself.

“When am I not careful?” he responds with a smile.

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