Page 61 of Honorable Convictions
“I know that, it’s all in the eyes. The innocence of never sentencing someone guilty to death or learning of the horrors one person can do to another. It changes you.”
“As hard as it is, society needs us.”
“I cried like a baby the first time I had to sign off on someone’s life.”
Wrapping an arm around him, Pierson leaned his head on Mitchell’s shoulder. “So did I. Then I had a stiff drink and reminded myself of what the assailant had done. In my case, it was a woman who hacked her lover into pieces. When the sister of the victim found her trying to clean up the blood, she killed her as well. She was too much of a danger to allow her to step foot out of prison again.”
“Mine was as cut-and-dried as yours. A shifter who’d convinced himself that his mate had cheated despite us finding no evidence to support that theory. He slit his other half’s throat and stuck a pillow over the face of the child his mate had before they met.”
“I’m glad those kinds of cases are rare.”
“Yeah, me too. I nearly teleported to DC to find you that night.”
“What stopped you?”
Mitchell turned, forcing Pierson to lift his head and they stared at one another. “I didn’t want you to witness my vulnerability. I thought you needed a mate who was always strong.”
“I can’t count the number of fucking times I thought about how I’d hate you to see me emotional. What the hell was wrong with us?”
“I just…I just have no idea, Blondie.”
“I used to hate that nickname.”
“I knew that, and I kept using it anyway.”
“There’s always going to be that part of you that wants to annoy me,” Pierson said with a grin.
“Probably. Come see our office.”
“How big is this place?” Pierson asked.
Mitchell led him out of the living room and through the foyer to the other side of the condo. “Pretty big. I could barely afford it when I bought it, but it’s all paid off now. I’ve redecorated and updated regularly since then.”
“You must’ve gone through a lot of decorators.”
Mitchell stopped in front of a set of open French doors and glared at Pierson. “Juris Knight Murphy, I happen to have picked out every damn thing in this place on my own.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had this hidden talent. It’s incredible. So, the office is great, but why is that entire wall blank?” Pierson asked. There were two heavy desks in dark wood with built-in shelves from floor to ceiling, stuffed with books. On another pale gray wall was a surfeit of honors and accolades given to Mitchell.
“That wall is for your awards. I don’t know where you’ve hidden them, but I happen to know you’re the most decorated JK in fallen knight history. That used to piss me off. Now I’m proud of you, the way I should’ve been all along.”
With a shrug, Pierson crossed the muted area rug to glide his fingertips across the gleaming surface of an empty desk. “I’ve always kept them in boxes.”
“That’s because you never lived anywhere. You wouldn’t allow yourself. You simply existed from one day to the next.”
“I know.”
“Not anymore. This our home, and we’re not going to simply survive here. Plus, you can’t leave that poor wall to suffer from loneliness any longer.”
“So, where’s this bed with silk sheets?”
“You can change the subject, and I’m happy to take you to our bedroom, but I’m going to hang up your stuff.”
“Suit yourself,” Pierson commented, and his hand was taken again. It was a short distance to a master suite with an attached bathroom. The wall behind the enormous bed was painted a rich, deep red, but the bold color didn’t keep his eyes from straying to the upholstered sleigh bed covered in a comforter that matched the wall with accents of gray. Like the living area, it was piled with pillows in varying textures and patterns. It was flanked by nightstands in a dark stain topped with elegant lamps that complimented the chandelier.
“I knew you’d look gorgeous in here.”
“What’re you talking about?”
