24. Remy

24

REMY

I’d only meant to take a moment to check my messages, but instead find myself in the questionable position of watching my wife sleep. The chair I’m in next to the wall is well situated for the task even if it looks bland and is rather uncomfortable.

Ben had said she didn’t care to spend time in the bedroom, and I see why. The room is wrong for our firefly. I’d meant to leave it for her to make decisions about the space, but the generic nature of it is beginning to grind. This room is meant to serve as our sanctuary, a place for rest and seduction.

I will remedy this. It’s one thing that I can remedy. After all, I’d succeeded with the workshop.

She’d fallen into bed after we’d returned home last night, exhausted. The self-defense training, her attempts to craft charms against fae magic, and socializing with strangers proved too tiring to address in one day. And that’s without accounting for the sex.

My mouth waters at the memory of her spread before us on the glossy piano, made only glossier by her slick arousal, and I sit back in the chair heavier, annoying my wings.

Stella makes a soft sound, and the sheets rustle before she settles again. The sun is just barely rising now. The light painting her face is soft, not enough to show the fire underneath, the chaos as Ben would surely call it.

It’s her scent that’s making it hard to leave. Nothing more than that. Biology wants me to mate my witch.

I’m not usually one to lie to myself, but this is easier.

The temptation to wake her with my tongue lapping at her nectar is gripping, but I hold back. My discipline suffers around her, but I’m not that far gone yet. She’d accept me, of that, I’m sure. She’d have given over her body to me last night even with the trace of Ben inside her.

But I’d prefer to be sure that Ben won’t disappear once we don’t need him to act as our go-between. I won’t lose my queen’s knight so carelessly.

And there is the small matter of her accepting my ownership. I breathe in her sweetness on the air, greedy for the eventual capitulation.

She inhales deeply, and suddenly we’re watching each other. Her blue eyes are sleepy but quickly focus on me. We stare in silence.

A silent truce until a line forms between her brows.

Her gaze sharpens. “My mom extended her vacation.”

My brows lift at the random seeming detail but nod. I imagine she’s grateful for the reprieve. It would be messy to have Elena return in the midst of the unrest. Our mating is valid, but it still feels like something that can disappear as quickly as smoke. All it would require is a blowing huff from the Council.

To have to manage her mother at the same time would cause Stella stress.

“And it works out well for us,” she echoes my thoughts and continues. “So well, that it’s almost like it was planned, but I don’t know how you would have pulled that off…”

I should smile and say something pithy about not controlling the universe, but not everything needs to be a scheme. And a part of me is tired of holding back my nature from her.

“It was rather simple actually,” I say.

Apprehension fills her face. She didn’t want me to confirm her suspicions. “Tell me.”

“Carl works for me.”

She purses her lips. “And you told him to romance my mom?”

“Of course not.” That would have been an excellent idea, if more calculated than Stella would be able to stomach. “Carl was only directed to watch out for her. When he inquired if he could court her, I gave my permission.”

Stella sighs in relief. “So he does have feelings for her?”

I snort. Since I first put him in place. The suspicion doesn’t leave her face, and my stomach sinks. My firefly is digging for things she may not be ready to know.

She sits up in bed. “That’s the thing though. I’ve known Carl for years. He’s helped me out a few times. Even going to bat for me on a Council issue once.”

She’s not asking a question, so I don’t respond. The silence falls again, but the oncoming disturbance brews until it breaks through.

“How long have you been watching me?” she asks.

I don’t hesitate to answer. “Since I first approached.”

She swallows, spinning the charmed ring I’d given her on her thumb. Ah, her affinity with metals exposed my lingering obsession. How sloppy of me.

“You’re captivated by me,” she says, again, not a question.

Captivated is a good word for it. Descriptive. Like a moth to her flame. She is a fluttering light in a world of strife. She is my firefly. Warmth stirs in my chest even as this is inconvenient.

“Clever witch,” I murmur.

“Why hide it?” Vulnerability seeps into her words. Those blue eyes have a certain type of yearning in them that I want to swallow whole, but it doesn’t change the facts.

“Because I still can’t be what you need,” I say without inflection. “What does it matter if I’ve kept tabs on you?”

Her brows rise. “You watched me in my workshop. At my old place. You saw me fall asleep at my desk.”

I still. She’s put together much more than I figured.

“That corner needed a chair,” I say. Like it’s a simple thing that I’d watched her lit-up window from the roof of the next building over. Many times.

I can’t tell if she’s displeased. After all, I violated her privacy. She’d cleanly rejected my proposal, and instead of leaving it alone, I planted one of my most trusted men in her life. Against my better judgment, I watched her. I plotted ways to keep her even as I stayed away.

Lorenzo was always going to fall. The territory was going to be mine, but more importantly, Stella was always going to be mine.

Fate must have agreed because the way it all happened was a much cleaner solution than anything I had in the works.

Stella’s expression is so very serious. “Why can’t you be what I need?”

I swallow. She hadn’t questioned that before, and I didn’t realize then how much of a grace it was for her to not be surprised that I couldn’t be the one to cater to her emotional needs. That I couldn’t care for her heart.

But doesn’t she deserve to know?

“I’ve borne the brunt of what happens to the vulnerable when the people they rely on allow themselves to be swayed by emotions.” I try to keep the statement clean, direct. “And there are a lot of people who rely on me.”

Stella stops spinning the ring. Her attention on me absolute. “Who hurt you?”

And in this moment, the fire in Stella’s gaze is as mesmerizing as her pleasure the night before.

As if she would burn down a whole clan of gargoyles if I’d admit how they treated me. I was a burden to them, someone not worth the resources and definitely not worth having any space or possessions of my own.

I sigh. I have no wish or need for Stella to wage a war of revenge my behalf, so I focus on the important part of the story. “My father left me vulnerable. He gave his whole heart to my witch mother, and when she died, he crumbled.”

The clan had been sure to detail just how weak he was to not only be half witch himself, but to fall in love with a witch so completely that he could not survive her passing.

“Crumbled?” she asks.

“He chose to sleep and never wake. It’s the way gargoyles meet their end. They exist as statues until the elements break them down.” From dust to dust.

“How old were you?”

Young. Too damn young to see the statue of my father along with the other elders of the clan, never to find the will to resurface from his slumber. Discomfort is tight in my wings, and I stand. “The details aren’t important.”

Her eyes are wide at my abrupt movement and something in my chest softens. I breathe through the inconvenient feeling while wanting to snap my teeth in frustration.

I cast off my reaction and continue. “I will not risk the people who count on me.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. Truly.” She bites her lip. “But some would argue that those types of strong feelings empower people.”

She says that as if all love is built equally. I know the stirrings of my heart are not so wholesome as that. My emotions are destructive. I fear I’ve let this witch affect me too much already.

“Others may be different. But I know the weakness of my blood. We will continue as we began.” I’m already distractingly preoccupied with her even if she’s only now picking up the hints.

“Of course. You’re up early,” she says. It’s a whisper like her throat is tight, and for the first time I realize that she may not appreciate that I always strive to leave before she wakes. “Did something happen?”

“We have a lead concerning the Sova family,” I say.

Young Andrew has demonstrated a skill for this tracking work. I’ll still shuffle him around, but his technical proficiency is something I’ll be keeping a close eye on.

“That’s good news.” The tightness isn’t completely gone, but relief is taking its place.

“It’s just the two women. There’s record of them passing through a fae gate in a different city,” I say, not wanting her to get her hopes up. I keep my anger that it’s a city in Lobo’s territory to myself. “But I’m hoping we can find the children being held somewhere near to that gate. It takes much more work to smuggle children through fae gates than adults.”

It’s a time-sensitive task, not to mention everything else that must be done to continue the search for the women on the other side of the gate, and because my weakness had me admiring my prize while she slept, I’m delayed. I clench my jaw.

Stella dips her chin, sensing my intention. “Good luck. I hope you find them.”

I turn with a nod. Not allowing myself the domesticity of a goodbye kiss. Ben will be here soon. Ben will be the one to care for our vibrant firefly.

People rely on my good sense. No matter how tempting it is, or how sad her blue eyes are, I will not soften for my wife.

I can’t afford to.