Animal Instincts (Gilded Knights Series Book 3)

by Emilia Finn

  “Mmm.” Her lips quirk high. “And sometimes, Cap’n Crunch.”

  “Nice. If I don’t like the eggs benedict, can I have some of your Cap’n?”

  She bobs her head in an enthusiastic nod. “I’ll share with you.” Then she jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Mrs Rosa okay?”

  “She’s not Mrs Rosa, you know that, right?”

  Samara nods again and refastens her hands behind her back. “I know. But we’re pretending because Mother and Father want us to. I also pretended when she asked if the bathroom was free.”

  Stunned, I turn and meet her eyes.

  Samara grins. “She okay?”

  “Um… yeah. She hit her nose and made it bleed.” I toss my phone down, then turn and snag my shoes and a clean pair of socks before sitting on the edge of the bed.

  This is Tabby’s bed. The one she slept in. So close, yet so far away.

  “She’ll be okay,” I assure the girl. “Just as soon as she accepts who she really is beneath the pretense.” I stop working on my socks, glance up, and smile for Samara. “Don’t tell Mrs Rosa I said that, though. I’ll get in trouble.”

  Mischievously, she brings a hand around and crosses her heart. “You should go for a walk today. There’s a lake about ten minutes from here. Not far. Lots of trees, and pretty willows that dangle into the water.”

  “Oh yeah?” I go back to work on my shoes.

  “It’s said the water has magic in it.”

  A single brow shoots high on my brow. “Magic?”

  “Uh huh. There are legends around here.” Samara comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, far enough that we’re not touching. Far enough that we won’t even accidentally touch while I’m stretching to get my shoes on. “We hear the legends at sleepovers mostly. But the legends are all the same. There was once a couple who passed through here. They were young—even younger than you, Mr. Rosa.”

  “Well, hell, I wasn’t feeling self-conscious about that till right now.”

  Samara flashes a playful grin. “They were enemies,” she continues. “They wanted to kill each other. But it was near that lake they discovered that perhaps enemies could become something else.”

  “Yeah?” I shake my head and go to work on my second shoe. “Are you implying there are similarities between Mrs Rosa and I… with the enemy thing?”

  She nods her head and glances down to hide her smile. “You just never know what might happen. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?” I set my booted foot on the floor and study the girl. “What exactly do you think I’m trying to achieve here?”

  “You want her not to think of you as an enemy anymore.” She pushes up to stand, as though sensing something changing outside this room. A person approaching. A reprimand coming. “Ten minutes north, Mr. Rosa. Take your shoes off when you get there, dip your toes in, and see what happens.”

  “Samara?” Darla’s voice filters along the hall and pushes the tween’s lips higher with smugness. “Come help me serve breakfast please.”

  “Coming, Mother.” The girl approaches the door and turns back at the last second to catch my eyes. “I’ll help Mother pack you a lunch to take with you. Going for a walk is okay, Mr. Rosa. You can’t drive anywhere today, and staring at Graciela won’t make her give birth any quicker.”

  Stunned by her words, I push to my feet and chuckle. “You are way too smart for your age, kid. Now scram.”

  “Scramming.” She bolts through the door and meets her mother before the woman has to come looking.

  Then, only a minute later—less than a minute later—the bathroom door at the end of the hall opens, and the scent of Tabitha pulses in the air on the steam of her shower.

  I stay in our room, waiting, wanting, and study her when she steps over the threshold in fresh jeans and a top not at all revealing, but to my hungry gaze, may be the sexiest shirt I’ve ever seen. Buttons stretch down deep into her cleavage, so if they were unfastened, I would have a front-row seat to the most beautiful sight on this planet.

  Though of course, the buttons are secured right to the top.

  Her arms are bare, her face without makeup. Her hair is wet, and though she went to the effort to comb and towel away the excess water, droplets still fall from the ends of a few strands.

  She’s unashamedly her. Perfect without enhancements. Beautiful even without the hairstyles and body-clinging outfits—better, even, since I know none of what she shows me is fake.

  Well, except for the bit about wanting Mark.

  “Your nose doesn’t look too damaged.” I stay where I am, though I’d die to wander forward and get a closer look. “No break.”

  “Which is what I said.”

  She passes through the room, giving me a wide berth as she makes her way to our bags. There, she drops her towel, her pyjamas, and a small bag filled with the few personal things she uses—deodorant, moisturizer, a comb and hair ties. She remains facing the wall for a long time, her shoulders bowed, her head down. She’s sad… or mad… or something that isn’t great.

  “Listen, Beckett. I’m sorry for barging in on you. And for—”

  “Wanna come for a walk with me today?” Cutting her off, I make my way closer. Not too close. Not touching. But so I can smell her. Feel the warmth radiating off her back. I’m close enough that I’m tempted to collect the droplets from the ends of her hair before they fall.

  But that may be crossing a line I don’t have the legal power to defend.

  Tabby’s back goes straighter, stiffer, as she shyly looks over her shoulder. Our eyes meet—hers are still a little red from her run-in with the door, but more than that, she’s vulnerable. Scared. “What?”

  “A walk.” I nod toward the north and smile. “The girl kid told me how there’s this nice walk, not far, and at the end is a lake that has magical powers.”

  “Magic?” Just like I did, she lifts a questioning brow. “Really?”

  “That’s what I heard.” I shrug and take another step closer. “She said it’s nice there, and since we can’t drive anywhere today…”

  She exhales softly. “I mean, I don’t have to drive anywhere to work. I could settle in somewhere here with coffee and a laptop. My day doesn’t have to be a waste.”

  “Or you could come for a walk,” I counter. “Work later.”

  “Will Samara come with us?”

  Surprised, I scoff. “Fuck no. She’s cool and all, but why the hell would I invite her?”

  “Chaperone,” Tabby chokes out. “Keeps things decent.”

  I laugh under my breath. “If you think you need a chaperone, then you already know the answer to all the questions zinging around inside your brain. If that’s the case, then we could just skip to the end and save ourselves a bunch of time.”

  “Sex?” Disgusted, Tabby turns and folds her arms across her chest. “That’s all it is to you? Sex. A conquest. And once we leave Switzerland again, everything goes back to how it was, except now, my relationship is on fire.”

  “No. When we leave Switzerland, nothing goes back to how it was.” I lean closer, duck my head a little lower, and press the tip of my nose to hers. “Everything changes, but for the better.”

  “And I’m to tell Mark I’m an unfaithful slut who can’t keep her hands or dreams to herself?”

  “What you dream about isn’t your fault,” I growl. “Dreams are where we’re ourselves the most. It’s where we can wish for something and not worry about the repercussions or bad things happening.”

  “The fact that dreaming about you has already led to bad things means this isn’t okay, Beckett. It means this is a storm in the making.”

  “Not all storms are bad.” I slide the pad of my thumb over her jaw and feel stirrings in my gut when her eyes glitter. She’s not crying, but she’s damn close to it. “Sometimes a storm is exactly what we need to clear a path to something better.”

  “I don’t…” She shakes her head and dislodges my hand. “I can’t be lik
e you, Beckett. I can’t just jump from one man to another with no care for how it’ll all work out.”

  “So you’re with him for the security? Because he’s safe?”

  “I’m with him because he’s my boyfriend! Because I made promises to him.”

  Agitated, I spin away and throw a hand in the air. “You just said it all your damn self. Duty, obligation, and familiarity. Not love! You’re supposed to say love, Tabby. Because everything else is a load of bullshit.”

  “Give me a fucking break,” she shouts right back. “What would you know about love? Apart from your own reflection in the mirror, I doubt you’ve ever experienced the feeling.”

  “Bullshit!” I turn and charge forward until she stumbles back to escape me. “I know I don’t look at you and think duty, Tabitha. I don’t think obligation. I don’t even think friendship or a good assistant. I think about this!” I slam my hand to her chest, her heart. “I know that when I think about you, I think about more than a fuck. I know when I think about you, I think of roses on Tuesdays, and date night on Wednesdays. I think about bringing you home to my family, and telling them about wh—”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You already took me to family dinner… as your assistant! So stop with the—”

  “I never took Martha to dinner,” I growl.

  Our breath races between us. Our hearts sprint as Tabby’s eyes widen.

  “Not once in all the years we worked together did I take Martha to family dinner, Tabby.”

  “But…” Her brows crease. “Why?”

  “Because you’re special!” I roar. “Because even then, I knew there was more to this than a fucking assistant and her boss. I knew even then,” I push forward, “that I wanted to see you with them, to make sure it all fits, and then for you to see me, my family, my love, and not the revolving door of women bullshit.”

  “But you’ve had a revolving door!” she snaps back. “I’ve made the damn dinner reservations. I’ve talked to these women on the phone. I’ve intercepted. I’ve made excuses. I’ve been your go-between for these bitches, all because you want to fuck and r—”

  “I haven’t had sex with one single person since meeting you.”

  There! I said it. I fucking threw my business down in Tabby’s lap with no care for my own dignity.

  “You…” Stunned, she licks her lips. “Huh?”

  “Not one. I’ve dated, I’ve tried, I’ve lined them up one by fucking one. And every single time, I compare to you.”

  “Y-you lie,” she stammers. “You’re making this up.”

  “Even that week between meeting you and hiring you, when Carmel was in the office…” I shake my head. “Nothing. Not one woman. Because I was sitting with them, talking with them, holding them, and I was thinking about you.”

  I push forward another step until our hips touch and Tabby’s pulse is visible against her neck. “I can’t get a fucking hard-on unless I’m thinking about you. But the second a woman other than you speaks, the second she opens her damn mouth, she shatters the world I was hiding in inside my head. Me and you, together…” I pull back and look down at Tabby’s body. Her rising chest. Her hands, pressed to the wall at her back. “I could pretend for a minute, and for that minute, it was me and you, and it was perfect. But the moment the spell was broken, I was back to being flaccid and fucking useless.”

  “I don’t…” She gasps for air. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, I have nothing left to convince you.” I push away and cross the room in three long strides. “I have nothing left to give, I have no way of measuring up to what you need. I’m just me, and now I’ve told you everything.”

  I wrap a hand around the door handle and shake my head. “I’m not worthy, Tabby. Fuck knows you deserve something pure and perfect. I know I’m looking too high, too far, but I can tell you this; whether I ever get to call you mine or not, I know for a damn fact he ain’t worthy either.”

  “Beckett, wait—”

  “You’re choosing wrong,” I insist. “You’re choosing comfort and convenience. And that’s fine for now, while your world is scary and new. But eventually, it’s gonna be boring. Bets are, you’ll be a housewife, a mom, cooking a meal and wondering where your life went.” I drop my head and study the floor. “I can’t promise to be perfect for you, but I’ll make it exciting. I’ll make it passionate. I’ll make it so you know how special you are every day for the rest of our long fucking lives.”

  I glance back and find her eyes wide, her cheeks too pale. “I might be wrong for you, and if I am, then I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. But he isn’t right for you. I know that with my entire heart and soul.”

  “Beckett, st—”

  “I’m going to find the magical lake.”

  “I said wait,” Tabby snaps.

  I look up and turn in time to find her charging forward; to hit me, perhaps. To slam me into next week and teach me a lesson for being… well… me.

  The moment she’s within reach, I brace myself and absorb the way she shoves me against the door hard enough to steal my breath. She’s smaller than me, shorter, lighter, but she’s strong, and right now, she’s pissed.

  “You have no right to say all this,” she shoves again. This time, tears fall and make her pale cheeks shimmer. “You have no right to come into my relationship like this and mess things up.”

  “Love means I get to do whatever the fuck I want,” I shoot back. “It means I get to use whatever I have to convince you that I’m here and I want you.”

  “You don’t get to say love,” she cries. Torrential tears and wracking sobs make her chest bounce. “It’s not fair.”

  “No. Ignoring what I feel wouldn’t be fair. Because years from now, when you’re that housewife, and maybe when I’m married to a fucking trophy, we’re both gonna wonder what step we missed. We’re gonna wonder where we screwed it up so bad.”

  “It’s all just words,” she cries. “Just words. But if I destroy what I have with Mark, and next week, you decide you’re done with me—”

  “Then at least you took a fucking risk and did something your soul wanted! Being alone is better than being with a guy simply because he makes a decent paperweight.”

  “Irony,” she barks, “coming from the guy with the revolving door of women.”

  “At least I was searching for something else,” I snarl. “I fell head over fucking ass for you the moment we butted heads. But you were way out of my league, you were taken, and you had no interest in me. So that was a sign for me to look someplace else.”

  “Nice way to use me as an excuse to fuck around.”

  “I just told you I’ve been with no one!” I shout so loud, Reginald and Darla are bound to come looking. “I tried, I looked, I dated, and I wanted there to be someone else. But here we are anyway, I’m pouring my fucking guts out to you, and still, you won’t even look at me!”

  “I’m looking at you!” To prove her point, she stares right into my eyes. “I’m looking right now.”

  “You see me as the enemy.”

  “No! I see you as the forbidden fruit,” she bursts out. “And everyone knows what happens in that story.”

  A phone rings from somewhere in the room. Not my phone, not my ringtone. Though I guess the tone is familiar to Tabby, because her cries silence, but the tears continue.

  “It’s him?” I glance across the room to where the phone chirps. “Mark’s calling, and you’re gonna go running.”

  “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for being loyal,” she chokes out. “You don’t get to act like fidelity is an undesirable character trait.”

  “No, but I sure as shit think cowardice is gross.” I step out of the way of the door’s span and turn the handle. “I’m going to find the lake. You stay here and be a good girl.”

  “Fuck you,” she growls when my words register in her brain. In our world, in this conversation, being a good girl is worse than if I called her a slut. “I’m go
nna do me, Beckett. I’m gonna do the job you hired me to do.”

  “Great. And I guess I’ll go find someone named Tabby to fuck. It’ll probably feel the same in the end.”

  “Like I said,” she turns to snatch up her phone. “All you want is sex. After that, my world is on fire, and you’re on to the next woman.”

  “You know so much about me,” I sigh. “And yet, you know nothing.”

  I step through the door and pull it closed behind me before I have to listen to her take that call. Before I’m forced to listen to a fake ‘Hey, babe’.

  I can’t control Tabby, I can’t make her love me. But I can control myself, my actions, and my proximity to this woman while she speaks to a man who has no fucking clue how lucky he is. He had her, then he let her go. And all the while, she stays true to him. She stays loyal and perfect. And the rest of us mere mortals, we have no chance, because she’s saving that seat for someone not at all worthy.

  I stride through Darla’s kitchen and out the door. Darla calls out, she says hey, but just like with Tabby, I have nothing left to give. No fake platitudes. No smalltalk. No bullshit. So I show her my back and keep on going. Then, catching sight of the barn to my right, and to my left, Reginald on his tractor doing fuck knows what, I head toward the stables inside the barn.

  The murder family has more than one horse, but Graciela is the only one with foal.

  Swinging through the doorway, I snag a rope with quick hands and work it into a makeshift rein, then approaching Graciela’s door, I smile for her and click my tongue to bring her closer.

  She’s tired. She’s over being pregnant. And really, she’s too old to be pregnant in the first damn place. She should be enjoying retirement, grazing grassy fields and not worrying about giving birth. But for some stupid reason, the murder family decided to knock the poor old girl up and put her through the pain and danger of what’s coming.

  The sun is barely doing its job today, and soft rain dribbles from the sky. Not enough for an umbrella, but definitely enough to wet someone through if they spend long enough exposed.

  I step into Graciela’s stable when she acknowledges it’s just me—we spent enough time together last night for her to trust me—and when she’s comfortable, I slip my rope around her neck, and tug the blanket off her back.