Page 5 of Liar's Heart
Ender clears his throat, and I realize that I have been staring way too intently at this man’s chest and that he’s offering his shirt to me. Because I’m naked and gawking at him, I snatch it out of his outstretched hand, making a point to focus very intently on dressing myself. When my modesty is partially restored, Ender holds out a hand to help me step out of the puddle of satin before picking it up and draping it over the back of a chair. Then he guides me toward the sitting area with a hand lightly pressed to the small of my back and plants my barely covered ass on the sofa.
Instead of joining me there or even taking the nearby wingback chair, he kneels directly in front of me, bending to grab one of my feet before gently setting it on his thigh and working the clasp on my shoe. He frees my foot, and the ability to flex the muscles feels so good. Then he begins digging his thumbs into the arch, and I can’t help the embarrassing noise that comes out of my mouth. His hands feel like magic, slowly kneading life into my aching foot. A few minutes later, he switches feet, freeing and rubbing the other one. It's only after I pick my head back up from where it fell against the sofa that I realize this position has left my legs spread and Ender at eye level with my bare pussy. I snap my knees together, but the damage has already been done. Ender chuckles before looking up at me, brow raised. “Was the lack of panty lines worth it?”
I jerk my foot out of his hold and cross my legs in an attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity and refuse to answer his question. Ender rises and heads to the bar cart, pouring two glasses of water. With part of his back to me now, I can see more black ink—a large bird taking up the shoulder closest to me. I'm still trying to figure out what kind of bird it is when he finishes, returning to the sofa and offering me a glass. Thanking him, I accept the proffered glass. He sits down next to me before toeing off his dress shoes and settling into the corner of the couch.
This is so fucking awkward. Knowing I’d have to eventually be alone with and talk to this man is nothing compared to the reality of it. I should have prepared a list of conversation topics.So. You come here often? What's your favorite movie? What's your kill count looking like this quarter? Should we go ahead and fuck and get it over with?
Ender snorts and says, “I suppose that's one way to occupy our time.”
I feel my heart hit my ass before bouncing back up into my ribcage.Oh no. He can read minds.
Now he's fully laughing at me, the sound rich and warm. “I cannot. Icanhear your thoughts if you say them out loud though. The answers are: to the Aedis, yes, but to this room, never. I don't watch a lot of movies, but I've always lovedThe Terminator. It's rude to ask someone their body count, even a Ferryman. And… I don't know. Is that what you want? To fuck me and get it over with?” Leaning into my ear, he whispers, “Because I’ve waited far too long to just get it over with. When I finally fuck you, I’m going to sink and drown you with the pleasure of it. You’ll never see the surface again, Merrick.”
I’m not entirely sure I’m still breathing. Even when he relaxes back into his seat, a smirk firmly planted on his mouth, it still doesn’t feel like I’ve gained any distance between us. Silent alarm bells ring in my mind, warning me that I’m not the apex predator in this room. He is. And he’s looking at me like nothing would delight him more than if I ran just so he could give chase. Like he’d eat me alive once he caught me, suck the marrow from my bones, and lick his fingers clean when he was finally sated.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to the predator I am. I’ll hone my claws and stalk and hunt. But tonight, with the drugs pounding through my veins and this disarming man with his filthy words and silver eyes, I think the best I can do is hold on and pray I can keep my head above water long enough to survive the night.
Never in my life have I prayed for sunrise to come faster, but tonight I do. Tonight, it can’t come soon enough.
She’s here.She came. She’s mine.
The same words have been rounding in my head like plainsong since the moment I first laid eyes on her tonight when she walked into that room. And then, she walked to me. Despite the marriage being a done deal on paper, part of me still thought she wouldn’t go through with it. That she’d walk right past the steps leading to the Aedis and out the door, never to be heard from again.
I don’t know if I would blame her if she did.
She reminds me so much of the fox her mask portrays her as. A predator in her own right, but surrounded by wolves that would swallow her whole if she caught their attention. She's spent so much of her adult life evading traps and slipping through snares to stay one step ahead. Trying to make sure nothing gets close enough to nip at her heels. I know this marriage has to feel like walking into a trap for her. I could see it in those midnight eyes tonight, even taste it in her blood and sweat. The rising panic, the constant vigilance. Her pulse as fast as a hummingbird’s wings under my tongue. The drugs certainly didn’t help.
Neither did stripping her naked. Can't say I regret that one though.
She could have stopped me. And really, I expected her to cover herself with her dress until we got my shirt on her, not let it fall, knowing she was completely bare underneath. Ox always did say she had a bratty streak. Tonight’s goal was to test the limits of it, to see what would provoke her to push past the nervous energy pouring off her and come play with me. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me that Merrick would be just as likely to push right back.
It took some persuading, but eventually, I got her in my arms. Talking to me. Laughing, even. Letting me feed her and take care of her in ways that soothe the raging beast caged within my ribs. And after, she curled up into my chest, sated and sleepy, her breaths slowly evening out as she fell asleep in my arms.
Merrick might try to deny me in the morning, blaming the drugs for her behavior, but the heat from her bare cunt searing into me while she chased her pleasure? The delicious flush that bloomed across her chest, the dusky peaks of her nipples visible through my shirt? The way she fell apart in my arms, so fucking pretty when she came. Her body doesn’t lie, even if her mouth does.
She gave me her truth once. I’ll get it from her again.
After Merrick fell asleep, I held her for a long time, tracing patterns on her back and memorizing the jasmine and petrichor scent of her hair. There was no way we could stay like that all night, curled up on the couch. Not in our thirties, at least. Based on how deeply she was sleeping, Merrick had to have been exhausted. Not even shifting us both around to get up and carry her to the bed before tucking her in made her stir.
She’s been asleep for a while now, inky black hair snaking over the pillow, eyelashes fluttering as she dreams. Every sooften, her hand twitches and flexes, like her fingers are searching for something. Or someone.
Lying next to my new wife, I watch her, drinking in the sight of her so at peace. She looks younger in sleep, like she carries less weight with her in her dreams. There must be nothing to scowl over wherever she’s at because her forehead is smooth, her mouth parted and soft instead of pressed into a firm line. I could stare at her all night like this, memorizing every little line and curve of her face, but both the day and the drugs are catching up to me, and I can feel my blinks growing slower and heavier. I can’t fight the pull to join her any longer. In that hazy space between consciousness and sleep, I wonder if I’ll see her in my dreams. I wonder if maybe she’s using sleep to escape me and be with the man she wishes I were instead. The man who should be here in my place.
Because if Ox were still alive, my wife would be sleeping next to him right now instead of me.
If Ox were still alive, she wouldn't be my wife at all.
But she is. She’s here. She came.
She’s mine.
And I'll never let her go.
Gravel crunches under the tires of the car as Ender turns into the drive, slowing to a stop in front of heavy metal gates. He hits a button on the visor, and the barricade slowly parts, officially admitting me into my new home for the first time. And thank fuck we’re here. It was only about a forty-five-minute drive, but between the massive headache I haven’t been able to shake all morning and awkwardly trying to avoid looking at, talking to, or thinking about the man next to me, it felt like hours. I spent most of the ride using my phone as a shield, which worked surprisingly well. Ender must also feel like he’s been hit by a bus
Or maybe it has something to do with the barrage of notifications I’ve been batting away ever since we got into the car. Len is supposed to be on her way back home by now, and the texts have still not slowed down. The latest slew of alerts pop up, prompting me to open our message thread. Again.
Len
