Page 192 of Caelum

I licked my lips and slowly said, “Pretty much.”

“How come you aren’t a bear to be around?”

“Like Dre?” I quirked a brow at her, pleased when she laughed a little. I hadn’t meant to make her concerned for me, didn’t need that kind of softness from her, even though it was pretty fucking nice to have someone at my back who wasn’t a brother.

“Yeah. Like Dre. Figuratively and literally,” she teased.

“I guess I just shove it aside.” I shrugged. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about that, though.”

“You didn’t want me to work out again, did you?” she said on a groan, and I was amused as fuck to watch her take a step toward the door.

Like she could ever outrun me.

“No. I wanted to give you something when the guys weren’t around.” I jerked my chin at the bench to my left. “I don’t have fancy wrapping paper or shit like that.”

“Wrapping paper?”

Christ. The cult. I guessed they weren’t about bows and ribbons on birthday presents, in fact… “What do the people from your compound get for their birthday?”

She blinked. “Get? Nothing. It was a feast day. We all ate a good meal together.”

My lips curved into a sneer. “That’s it? Didn’t you eat together every day, anyway?”

“Yeah, but it felt more special.”

Jesus. “Well,” I told her, clearing my throat, “that pretty much sucks balls, Eve.” She squeaked at my statement. “From now on, we’re going to celebrate the fuck out of our birthdays. You hear me?”

“Stefan said I should pick my own birthday.”

I’d heard the weird bullshit about how they’d had a communal date at the New Order, and I approved of Stefan’s suggestion wholeheartedly. Nodding, I questioned, “Have you picked one yet?”

She shook her head. “No. It seems silly.”

“Why? It’s the one thing we all have that belongs to us and us alone. Just as it is with our name.”

“Millions of people could share your name and your birthdate,” she countered.

I shrugged. “It’s about being an individual, Eve. Not about being a partof a congregation. You’re already in a Pack. An unusual one, but a Pack nonetheless. You have the group shit down rote. But individually speaking? You’re still kind of the New Order’s puppet. You don’t wear anything except for yoga pants and boys’ shirts, and I’ve never seen you do anything with your hair?—”

“Is that a complaint?” she demanded stiffly, her shoulders rising as her tits began to shake with her outrage.

“Nope,” I replied immediately. “It’s a statement. Do you like wearing those clothes? Don’t you ever want to wear something different? It’s a uniform. Just like the dress you came in. We all wear different shit to reflect our mood. When you’re feeling down, don’t you just want to wear something black or blue, but when you’re happy, something bright and breezy. Like yellow or green?”

I watched her lick her lips, surprised when she took my words to heart. I let her think about them, let her consider what I was saying, and grabbed my weight and began to pull some bicep curls. Nothing major. I’d already done the majority of my workout. But it was easier to do something with my hands when all I wanted was to haul her onto my lap and claim those drool-worthy lips for my own.

“I-I guess. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Well, now I’m making you think about it,” I told her kindly, even if I was huffing slightly from the thirty-pound weight in my hand. “Where the way you look is concerned, you can do whatever you want to do. Hell, if you want to wear yoga pants and big shirts for the rest of your life, I’m not about to complain, baby. Those pants do the finest shit to your ass, and when you bend over, I get the most perfect view of your tits.” Another squeak as she slapped one hand to her breasts and the other to her butt—I had to withhold a laugh at her gesture. “So, I’m saying this for you. I want you to be you. I want you to be happy, and not to be wearing something because it fits what you’re used to. Does that make sense?”

After a few seconds, her hands dropped before they surged once more and hovered around hip height. I could tell I’d surprised her with my comment, but she didn’t call me on it. If anything, she stepped away from the shelves and headed to the bench where I’d left the book.

“You got me a book?” Any other woman might have been disappointed, but not Eve. Another smile graced my lips at the thought of all the women I’d known in my life who would have wanted jewels or expensive clothes for their birthday, not some used book that was dog-eared and well-read.

“I did. But it’s more than a book. It’s the last gift my cousin gave to me before she was murdered.”

Eve froze, her hands stilling as she flipped through the pages ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because it’s one of two of the most precious possessions I have, and you’re not ready for the other one.”

---