Chapter 24

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Darien is a good nursemaid, and I am an excellent damsel. Oh, my knight in kinky armor! Swoon!

Between the ice wrapped in cloth that he gently presses against my temple and the feel of his fingers tracing my hairline, I'm rapidly entering the infatuation phase of our relationship. How did I never see that dimple on his right cheek? Or the flecks of gold in his dark eyes?

"How do you feel?"

Damn, he's got a sexy voice.

"Eden?"

"Huh?"

He smiles, and it hits me like a sexual freight train. "It looks like you're feeling better."

"Uh-huh." Shit. Why did I say I'm better? "Actually, my head hurts pretty badly. I should probably take it easy the rest of the day."

"Does it?" He leans over and presses his lips to the slight bump along my hairline.

My heart goes pitter-pat. I remember that mouth, those lips, pressed against something entirely different. Flutters in my stomach shoot straight to my hoo-haw.

"Maybe badminton isn't your game," he says, pulling away.

"I warned Zed. I had a bad experience in middle school and haven't played since."

"Ah. Busty Buccaneer Banks?"

Oh, crap. I told him? Fucking head injuries. "I… uh… yeah. A birdie landed in my eye, which landed me with an eyepatch. I looked like a pirate for six weeks."

Darien laughs. "I may need to find you an eyepatch and meet this Busty Buccaneer."

I wrinkle my nose. "Maybe not."

Zed interrupts our interlude, cutting off our pirate talk—Argh!—and taking me from arms I want to crawl back into. Despite my arguments, he insists I return to my role as Spastic Spice. I follow him back to the games, this time to the shuffleboard game, feet dragging like a sulky child.

On my first turn, I put too much force into my cue and manage to slide the disc right out of the scoring zone and into the foot of a passing Novice. Zed bursts out laughing as I run over, hugging my boobs because my girls don't like being tossed around, and apologize profusely to the woman I hit. She rubs her ankle, accepting my complete ineptitude with grace. I return to the game, giving my squire a disgruntled look, which becomes mortification when I see Darien smothering a laugh.

Great.

My torture lasts another forty-five minutes. Then someone strikes a gong—seems ostentatious, but then again, I'm on a literal island of sex—and the Novices leave their respective games and seek their waiting squires.

I find Zed. "Thanks for the support. You're lucky I didn't fling my shuffleboard cue in your general direction."

"I'm impressed you only took out two people and yourself today."

"Stand closer to the sidelines and we'll make it three next time."

He bursts out laughing, and I join in. Taking myself too seriously has never been a character trait.

Zed pulls out his phone and shows me the latest stats. According to the graph, my numbers are going up. Spastic Spice for the win. Yay me. I want to care, but it's all about Pages and Pastries. Whatever gets me there is all I need.

"You've earned a nice meal and a special engagement with Darien."

"An engagement? Like a date?" I do a little internal happy dance. "Does that mean I get to wear clothes?"

"I think not." He grins at my frown and adds, "A for effort, though!"

It feels like a date when Zed drops me off at a secluded outdoor nook next to the dining room reserved for Masters and Mavens. Darien rises from a table set with a carafe of sangria and appetizers of papaya salad and grilled pineapple wrapped in prosciutto. It's too bad this isn't a date, because it would officially be the start of the best one.

Darien pulls out a chair, and I sit, thankful for the cushion under my bare ass. Scratch the whole date thing. Being naked kind of ruins that whole vibe.

"Tell me about Pages and Pastries."

I take a sip of sangria. "What do you want to know?"

"Why books and pastries?"

"They're two of my favorite things. What better way to enjoy a book than with a chocolate croissant in your hand?" I quickly warm up to the topic. Ramble-mode activated. "Have you ever been reading a book that describes food and wished you had something like that so you could share the moment? What if you could eat fantasy-themed cupcakes? Or cookies from outer space? I could do that! I could give bookish people a place to hole up with their favorite read while stuffing their faces with flaky goodness. I mean, is there anything better?"

"I can think of something tastier." He picks up a prosciutto-wrapped grilled pineapple and flicks his tongue along the tip of the fruit, barely visible between the folds of ham, before slipping it into his mouth.

Goddamn! Is there anything he can't transform into something smutty? It's like a superpower. He could be Captain Innuendo, ready to turn the mundane into smut. I've even got a tagline. It's not what you say. It's how you say it!

I crack myself up.

Darien wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin. The action can't hide the smirk. He needs to work on subtlety if he's going to maintain his Clark Kent.

Always ready to throw me off-guard, he says, "Devouring a fruit tart while reading Fifty Shades sounds like a delightful combination. "

He grins when I roll my eyes at the reference. Do I have Christian Grey fan club written on my forehead?

Pouring himself sangria, he has a taste, studying me over the rim of the glass. "In all seriousness, I do not doubt that you'll fulfill your dream. Who knows, maybe one day I'll drop by your shop."

"That would be nice." You can't fall for this guy, Eden. I tell myself that, but I fear it's already too late. I scoop a helping of papaya salad onto my plate and busy myself eating. After a few minutes, I ask, "What about you? What do you do outside of all of this." I wave my hand in an expansive gesture. "Who are you, really?"

"Your Master. That is all you need to know."

I sit back and fold my arms. The action pushes my breasts up so my nipples are just about pointing at him. His eyes drop to my chest, a look of pure carnality suffusing his features. He shifts his gaze to my face, and I lose any hope of forming a coherent thought. What is it about him that affects me on such a deep level?

"My past, Eden, is nothing compared to my future with you."

Does he have a scriptwriter? If so, that dude deserves a raise. He follows that up with a possessive look.

Did it just get hotter? My face flushes under the intensity of his stare. Okay. No past. Just the future. I can live with that. For now.

Servers bring a sumptuous dinner of grilled tilapia, steamed vegetables, and creamy risotto. Conversation enters a phase of politeness. Chitchat between forkfuls fills the time, but it's nice. It's safe. I eat every bite of my meal, regretting how quickly my plate empties when I realize the end of dinner means the end of our evening.

He senses my dismay. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

I smile. "Definitely."

Darien stands and holds out his hand—such a gentleman in public. Behind closed doors, he's anything but. I love the feel of my hand in his. I rise, my head tilted to meet his hungry gaze. From the dining room, the loud pop of a cork from a champagne bottle explodes in the air. Darien's grip tightens instantly, a look of panic washing over his face as he shifts his body closer to mine. It's gone in a moment.

He schools his features and gives me a tight smile before handing me off to Zed, who materializes as though summoned. A soft kiss. A whispered goodnight and I'm ushered away. But part of me stays with him in that jarring moment. The loud bang. His protective reaction. The fear.

What's it all about? Why won't he open up? I call bullshit on the whole Dom-Sub, Master-Novice thing as the primary reason. There's more to this story, and I love a good mystery!