“Aidra gets that look on her face when she thinks of me.”
“And what look is that, exactly?”
He cleared his throat, the corner of his lips tugging as though he were fighting a smile. “Usually when we’re about to fuck.”
“No!” Luna said a little too loudly. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about at all.”
Even if she had, she wouldn’t be thinking about that around Fang. Especially around Fang—of the four, he seemed to be the most blunt when he spoke.
Since the other three weren’t as open, it was all the more clear that they avoided certain topics with her—they were being considerate of her traumas. She had been thankful at first, then she had wanted them to treat her as they would anyone else.
Fang was the first to comply though she learned all too quickly that it may not have been her best idea. It seemed his goal was to make her blush.
And usually, he accomplished that.
“Bit rude, no?” Fang asked as he tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Here I am putting in all the work and you’re thinking about another man.”
“By work, you mean making me hate your existence?”
She had spent the last two hours down in this basement working out with him and he took it entirely too serious. By morning, every muscle in her body was going to be sore.
Fang scoffed. “I’ve been going easy on you.”
“This is what you consider easy?”
“Of course—right now I’m not trying to kill you. This is the easiest you’ll ever have it.”
Sometimes, Fang had a habit of getting serious when she least expected it—like whatever switch inside of him that kept that smile on his face turned off for a moment. Not for the first time, she wondered about him—about the others as well.
They were all so close, the four of them, yet they all seemed just a little bit broken.
As quickly as she thought the mood had sobered, Fang was smiling again. “Unless you ask Aidra—I think her answer would be different.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
He laughed in good humor, then motioned for her to resume her earlier position.
After another hour of squats, weights, and overall sweat-inducing activities, he finally deemed their work done and let her go. Now, the only thing she wanted was a shower and a bed.
Luna came awake with a jolt, clutching sheets in her sweaty hands as she waited for her heart to stop racing. Once she was finally sure she was, in fact, alone in her bed, she lay back with a groan, trying to ignore the way her legs were quivering.
It was the third night this week she woke up with a start. They all ended at the same point, playing like a loop in her head that refused to stop.
And worse, it always featured the same person—Kit.
She wasn’t sure when the change had happened—when she had started looking at Kit as anything more than a temporary handler, but the moment it had, Kit had started playing a starring role in her dreams.
They were all innocent at first. Just a kiss, coupled with that charming half-smile of his that made her acutely aware of her gender. Those had only made her blush when she actually saw him, whether for training or just around the château.
But that innocence had quickly shifted to something else that she hadn’t wanted to consider at first. The stroke of his fingers across her skin, or his lips trailing along her jaw.
She didn’t know where the thoughts had come from—and she had to have been thinking them since they had manifested themselves in her dreams—but once they were there, she couldn’t get rid of them.
Even that she could handle because she knew it wasn’t real. She had never felt his lips on her, so it was easy enough differentiating between the Kit that starred in her dreams, and the one she saw almost daily.
But she had felt his hands—she knew his touch like she knew her own—and the moment he’d touched her the two versions of him blended.
Now, any time he touched her, she was reminded of illicit thoughts she couldn’t escape. Day after day, and night after night, she had begun to crave his touch, wanting him to make her feel alive.
Luna tried to avoid him, but even she couldn’t manage that for long—not when she had begun to miss the feel of his rough hands.
For the last week, however, he’d been gone away from the château, attending to whatever it was that he did, while she had remained behind. Not a day had gone by that she didn’t think about him—that she didn’t miss him—and before she realized it, her desire for him had grown until her dreams had taken her well beyond the realms of innocence.
Dragging in a ragged breath, Luna slid out of bed, walking over to the en suite bathroom to splash water on her face. A glance in the mirror revealed flushed skin and wild eyes.
Cat had told her about desire once, that she’d felt it before—back when she was free to choose the partners she went to bed with. Sometimes, she had said, she felt it even when she was with a nice client because they treated her better than most.
Sexual desire was not something she thought she would ever feel, not after her time spent with Lawrence. Once she was free of there, she hadn’t wanted to even think about being with a man, but she couldn’t deny she was feeling it toward Kit.
He was just … different.
He was strong, but he never tried to use that strength to hurt her, but rather to teach her.
Luna was returning to bed when she heard the slight creak of the floor above her.
Kit’s room.
No one ventured in there when he wasn’t home, especially this late at night, so that could only mean one thing—Kit was back.
The desire to see him overrode common sense as she stepped out of her room without completely thinking it through first.
Not once in the almost year she had been living there had Luna ever seen the inside of Kit’s bedroom. She knew where it was, of course, thanks to Uilleam’s attempt at a tour when she’d first arrived, but there had never been a reason for her to go in.
Usually, he could be found in his office, or the media room where Aidra worked. Never his room.
His door looming ahead of her, her nerves kicked up with every step she took. Would he be upset that she was there, Luna wondered as she raised a fist to knock and found the door slightly ajar.
But she didn’t just open it, still knocking even as she pushed the door open.
As she got her first eyeful of Kit’s bedroom, she was surprised to find it wasn’t anything like she expected, but it fit him still. She took in every bit of the open space, wondering if he’d had to knock down a few walls to make it as big as it was. It almost felt like his room took up the entire second level.
Unlike the rest of the château that was decorated in rich, warm shades, the walls and nearly every piece of furniture in Kit’s room was black, including the massive four-poster bed that stood on the other side of the room, though the sheets and duvet that were messy and undone were the purest of white.
Already, she liked it.
There was a giant trunk resting in front of the bed, one that looked big enough to hide a body inside. A symbol was burned into the lid—a bird that reminded her of the tattoo spanning his back. A heavy padlock was attached as well, making her wonder what was inside that he was keeping so private.
A fire was going, the only light in the entire room. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding, especially when she didn’t see any sign of Kit.
Maybe she could just walk right back out with no one being the wiser. She could pretend like this had never happened at all.
She was about to do just that when a throat cleared behind her. Spinning in a flurry, an apology was at the tip of her tongue until she realized it was Kit behind her, and he wasn’t wearing anything but a towel.
Could she even call that a towel? It was small, smaller than it should have been all things considered, but as quickly as she thought about him being nearly naked, her mind caught up with the rest of her and decided he was wear
ing too much.
His hair was still wet, water dripping from the strands onto the floor. In fact, he was still wet all over as though he had just climbed out of the shower.
It wasn’t like this was the first time she had seen him partially dressed—they trained together after all—but during those times, there had been something else to distract her.
Now, there was nothing but Kit.
Kit’s torso was solid, like someone had molded each indentation that formed the hard ridges of his abdomen and muscle that covered him from head to toe. A light dusting of hair covered his pectorals, then down the center of his abdomen and further still until the trail was cut off by the towel.
He was gorgeous in a way that had her staring unabashed. It wasn’t until she looked at his face did she realize he was staring at her, an amused smile on his lips.
There was no point in pretending she hadn’t been looking him over, drinking in everything she could, so instead she tried to think of something quick to say to divert his attention, but her brain chose that moment to fail her.
“Would you like me to lose the towel?”
Luna flushed with embarrassment, quickly shaking her head though she was screaming the opposite in her head.
“Shame,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “A moment, then.”
He disappeared around the corner and couldn’t have been gone more than a minute before he was back without his towel, but in a pair of loose fitting joggers and a shirt, but that did nothing to lessen his appeal.
This time when he came out, it was his turn to study her, and he did it in a way that was blatant and unapologetic. She didn’t think, in all the time she had been there that he had ever looked at her quite so intently.
Like he was seeing her for the first time.
And after a moment, Luna understood why. Glancing down at herself, she only now remembered that she was wearing one of the satin and lace rompers Aidra had insisted she get.
Luna had thought they were pretty, sure, but Kit seemed to think more than that.
Kit came closer, so close that she could smell the fresh scent of his skin. “Have you brought me a gift, mi pequeña luna?”
The gravelly words shot right down her spine. Besides English, she rarely heard him speak anything other than Welsh which she didn’t understand half the time.
But Spanish … never with anyone but her.
It amazed her how he was able to make even that feel special.
“What kind of gift would I be giving?” she asked looking up at him, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes as how close he was.
He smiled, as though her answer pleased him. “Not one I deserve.”
The door clicked shut, and she realized belatedly that that was why he was so close, but even as he took a step back to give her room to breathe, his room felt smaller all of a sudden with the door closed.
She looked from it to him, but misunderstanding her expression, he said, “It’s not locked.”
“And I don’t want to leave,” she returned, just as soft.
He tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “Then stay.”
With an invitation like that …
Deciding she had nothing to lose, she walked further into the room, taking up residence on the settee across the room.
Everything was neat in Kit's bedroom, orderly. Not a thing out of place save his rumpled bedsheets. It all kind of reminded her of him.
She wondered if he was the one that kept it like this, or if he had it cleaned daily. As private as he seemed, she didn’t think he would enjoy people touching his personal items, but as she took another cursory look around, there really wasn’t anything personal about the space.
Sure, there were a few paintings hung, and a few odd knickknacks resting on shelves, but it was all rather monochromatic.
It all seemed rather … empty.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he came to sit across from her, plucking a glass from the set on the small coffee table beside the chair.
“You,” she said, then quickly clarified when he smiled, “well, your room.”
“Oh? What are your thoughts?”
“Seems rather impersonal.”
“A force of habit, I suppose.”
A silver tray topped with a pair of tumblers and a decanter full of whiskey sat off to his right. He poured a couple fingers worth before tipping the glass to his lips and downing it. Then, he poured another.
“Rough night?” she asked, watching the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed.
“A part of the job, I’m afraid.”
“Is that where you’ve been?”
His smile was slow and steady. “Did you miss me, Luna?”
She was suddenly glad there was distance between them because she was sure he would have seen her blush had they been any closer.
“I was curious,” she said, though it sounded like a lie even to her own ears.
“And was there anything else you were curious about?” he asked, his tone thoughtful as though there was more to his question.
Everything.
She wanted to know everything there was to know about him—including whether her fantasy lived up to reality. “Where do you go when you leave?”
“Depends on the job.”
“As the Facilitator, right?” That was what he was called. “What does it mean to facilitate?”
“I offer a service,” Kit answered. “If there’s something you need, I can find the person to provide it.”
“Similar to your brother, then?”
His mouth twisted at the mention of Uilleam. “In a way. To put it in simple terms, he manipulates events—his work is with people. A constant game of chess with the pawns being people, if you will. I, on the other hand, acquire what’s unattainable. Jewels, people, and anything else you can think of.”
“That sounds—”
“Interesting?”
“Slightly terrifying,” she finished.
His brows rose up. “How so?”
“That’s like saying your brother tells someone which bank to rob because he knows they won’t get caught, and you provide the weaponry to ensure they get away with it.”
His smile was pleased. “Precisely.”
Luna shook her head. “I would hate to be on the opposing side of the two of you.”
“He and I don’t often do work together—we rarely see eye-to-eye on most matters.”
Luna nodded. “Because of the personality differences.”
She had only been around Uilleam for a short time, not even a full day, but she could see that he wasn’t nearly as serious as his brother. That didn’t mean he wasn’t feared—she could see it in the way people acted when he was around—the threat was just different.
“Some would say so, yes.” He finished his drink, setting the glass down. “How’s your training coming?”
Figuring he was tired of talking about himself, she didn’t call him on the subject change. “Good.”
Not only did she feel stronger, but she looked it as well. The change hadn’t happened over night—not when she had years to make up for—but eating three times a day, sometimes more, had done wonders in helping her put on weight. Her complexion was better, and she no longer cringed when she caught sight of her reflection.
She felt almost … normal.
Sitting up a little straighter, and recrossing her legs, Luna didn’t miss the way Kit’s gaze dropped, riveted to the movement.
The romper she’d put on for bed hadn’t been with him in mind, but now she was glad she picked it—though it was the more modest of everything Aidra had bought.
“Did you think of me while I was gone?” he asked suddenly, catching her off guard. “Good thoughts, I hope.”
“I guess—maybe a little,” she amended, though that wasn’t true either.
She had thought of him often.
“Then your thoughts of me have changed,” Kit said.
&nbs
p; “What makes you think that?”
“You wouldn’t be here right now if they hadn’t.
He made her feel special without even trying—like she was more than just a victim. When he looked at her, she didn’t feel like the girl Lawrence had used and abused for years.
Before she even had a mind to do it, Luna was on her feet and closing the distance between them, feeling Kit’s gaze boring down on her the closer she came. She wasn’t thinking clearly, not when she was shortening the distance between them as though she were invited.
He watched her from the moment she got to her feet until she was standing before him, hands by her side. No one looked at her the way Kit did—as though she was the only thing in the world worth beholding.
His expression was always so guarded that even now she couldn’t tell whether her presence before him was welcome or not, but he hadn’t turned away, nor had he asked her to leave.
Instead, his hands had formed fists at his sides, the muscles taut in his arms. “Give me permission.”
How could three little words cause such a storm of emotion inside of her? She didn’t play coy, she knew what he was really asking and the implications behind it.
He had always told her he would get her consent before he ever laid a hand on her, even in the most innocent of ways.
But this time, his touch wouldn’t be quite so innocent.
Luna didn’t care how, she didn’t even care where, she was just ready for the moment when the feel of his hands would replace those that had come before him.
Emboldened by her desire for him, she set a knee on one side of him, then the other until she was straddling his lap and her hands had fallen to his shoulders to keep her balance.
Looking down at him, feeling the tension in his body, Luna wanted him to kiss her more than anything in the world.
She thought of telling him this, but instead, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, her eyes closing as she did. There was a moment—just a moment—where she felt unsure of what he would do next, but before she could feel awkward at all, he was kissing her back with a passion that took her breath away.
She could taste the whiskey on his lips, the sharp bite of alcohol only fueling the fire she felt for him.
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