Page 26 of The Darkest Gift

I step back, picking up a slice of melon from the breakfast tray. "Language, Elijah," I chide gently. "We wouldn't want to forget our manners, would we?"

His eyes blaze with a mix of anger and arousal as I bring the fruit to his lips. For a moment, I think he might refuse, but then he parts his lips, allowing me to place the melon on his tongue.

As he chews, I continue as if we're having a perfectly normal conversation over breakfast. "We also took the liberty of rescheduling your court appearances," I say casually, selecting a grape from the tray. "Your doctor–a completely unconnected identity, by the way–faxed over some very official-looking paperwork citing extreme exhaustion and stress. The judge was quite understanding, all things considered."

Elijah swallows hard, his jaw clenching. "You're insane," he says, but there's a note of awe in his voice that belies the accusation. "Both of you. Completely fucking insane."

I laugh, the sound rich and decadent like aged whiskey. "Oh, pretty boy," I purr, trailing a finger down his chest. "There's a very high probability that you're right about that."

My hand drifts lower, ghosting over his still-hard cock without actually touching it. Elijah's breath hitches, his muscles tensing in anticipation. But instead of giving him the friction he sodesperately craves, I veer off at the last second, picking up the coffee mug instead.

"More coffee?" I ask innocently, holding the mug to his lips.

Elijah takes another sip of the rich, dark coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. As I lower the mug, he licks a stray droplet from his lower lip, the action more sensual than it has any right to be.

"You can't keep me here forever," he says, his voice low and measured. "Someonewillfigure it out eventually. No matter how thorough you think you've been."

I smile, a slow, predatory curve of my lips that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "We don't intend to keep you forever," I purr, setting the mug back on the tray.

His eyes narrow at my words, brow furrowing as he tries to decipher the hidden meaning behind them. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows catches the flecks of darker blue in his irises, making them shimmer like the surface of a stormy sea.

"What does that mean?" he asks, a hint of wariness creeping into his tone. "Are you... are you going to let me go?"

I don't answer Elijah's question. Instead, I simply smile–a slow, enigmatic curve of my lips that reveals nothing. Turning away from him, I pick up the silver breakfast tray, the delicate china clinking softly as I lift it.

As I walk towards the door, I begin to hum again, the melody of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" floating through the air like wisps of smoke.

Chapter 15

Mason

I watch Iris saunter out of the room from my place on the armchair in the sitting room, the soft notes of her humming fading as she disappears down the hallway. Looking back to Elijah, I can't help but chuckle at the combination of frustration and intrigue dancing in his eyes.

"Your wife is..." he starts, trailing off as if unable to find the right words.

"Utterly captivating? Dangerously brilliant? A delicious enigma wrapped in designer clothes and killer heels?" I offer, smirking. "Trust me, I know."

Elijah lets out a huff that might be laughter or exasperation—possibly both. "I was going to say 'completely insane', but sure, let's go with your flowery descriptions."

I'm about to retort when Iris breezes back into the room, her emerald eyes glittering with mischief. "Darling," she purrs, her voice like honey laced with arsenic, "I need you to keep our guest quiet for a bit."

Both Elijah and I raise an eyebrow at her statement, mirror images of curiosity and suspicion. She shrugs nonchalantly, as if what she's about to say is the most natural thing in the world. "The lead detective on the case I'm consulting for is coming over for a meeting.” She waves a hand in Elijah’s direction. “Figure it out. Choke him on your cock or something."

A bark of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. "If I didn't suspect he'd bite it off, I might consider it," I reply, eyeing Elijah's clenched jaw. "But I rather like my cock where it is, thank you very much."

Iris rolls her eyes playfully before turning away. "Fine, be boring then. Just make sure he stays quiet. I can't have the detective hearing any... unexpected noises during our meeting."

I can't help but shake my head in amused disbelief as I watch Iris saunter back out of the room, her heels clicking confidently against the marble floors. The sheer audacity of what she's proposing—inviting a detective into our home while we have a bound and naked District Attorney just a floor away—is breathtaking. And yet, I find myself utterly unsurprised. This is Iris, after all. My brilliant, dangerous, utterly unpredictable wife. It's moments like these that remind me why I fell in love with this amazing, reckless woman.

"She can't be serious," Elijah mutters, his voice filled with incredulity and perhaps some grudging admiration.

I stand and turn to him, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, she's deadly serious," I assure him. "And that, my dear Elijah, is what makes her so magnificent."

His brow furrows, those icy blue eyes studying me intently. "You're really going to let her do this? Bring a detective here? Now?"

I chuckle, moving towards the ornate chest tucked away in the corner of the room. "Let her?" I echo, my tone laced with amusement. "I learned long ago that one doesn't 'let' Iris do anything. She's a force of nature, unstoppable and glorious."

My fingers trail over the intricate carvings on the chest's lid as I continue. "Besides, the thrill of it all—the danger, the proximity to discovery—it's intoxicating, isn't it?"

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