Chapter 24

24

O ctavia

We get out of the SUV.

One of the guards told us that he would give us a ride. I watch as the car pulls away, headed back to the castle.

Creed is on the walkway of a beautiful house. He is staring at it in a way that tells me that this is his home. That he hasn't seen it in a long time.

"Wow!" I whisper. "You built this?" My voice is full of wonder.

"Yep," Creed says; his eyes are a little hazy. He has the start of a smile on his face. He looks…happy to be home, which makes me glad. Maybe this whole ordeal wasn't for nothing after all. I don't think Creed ever planned on coming back here. He was going to drop me off and run back to the jungle to repent for something he already paid for. Maybe it was because he knew his own people would treat him so badly.

I shake off the anger that wells up in me all over again, just thinking about it and ask, "With your own two hands?" I already know the answer but looking at the house makes me falter.

He chuckles. "My brother helped out here and there, but I did most of the work. It took me a long time."

I notice that he's frowning. He looks confused.

"What is it?"

"The garden is… Someone's been tending to the garden, that's all. I guess I wasn't expecting it."

The lawn is cut. There are trimmed hedges and flower beds overflowing with blooming roses and lavender. The garden suits the cottage-style home with its high-pitched roof and stucco walls. It's beautiful. Modern but with more classical touches. It's immaculate. Not like it's been standing for three years.

"Let's go inside." He touches my lower back, eyes still on the house.

We walk down a paved pathway to a big, oval oak door. There is a round window in it. Like the rest of what I have seen, it is beautiful.

Creed feels along the top of a beam at the entrance, taking down a key, which he uses to open the door. I'm expecting dust and grime, but the house is clean and neat. I glance around the entryway as I walk inside, taking in the polished wooden floors and the cozy sitting area with a plush couch and armchair. It smells like lemon with hints of lavender.

"I don't get it," Creed says, sounding shocked.

I look his way, and sure enough, his forehead is furrowed.

"It's clean and neat. It shouldn't look like this," he says. "Not after three years. I was worried about everything being an overgrown, dusty mess."

"Maybe your family has been looking after the place," I tell him. "They must be." I shrug.

"You're right." He nods. "It makes me feel like shit. All this effort for…"

"For someone they love. If someone cares about you, it isn't effort, Creed. They've been praying for your safe return. This is proof of that. You are loved and wanted. You made a mistake. They know that; they know you."

He pulls in a deep breath and then smiles at me. "You're right." Then he nods a few times, looking around, his eyes bright. I note that most of the swelling on his face is already gone. Wow! These shifters and their healing ability. It's amazing.

We walk deeper into the house, past the dining room, to the open-plan kitchen. It's ultra-modern, with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. There's a large island in the center with high stools lined up against it.

Creed goes over to the refrigerator and opens it. "Whoever has been taking care of the place wasn't expecting me." He leans over and flicks a switch behind the refrigerator. Then he opens a cupboard. "There's no food. I can't even offer you so much as a coffee."

I groan. "I would kill for coffee." I gasp. "You must be starving. And thirsty."

He nods, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He offers it to me.

I shake my head. "You drink first. I insist."

I watch his throat work while he drinks down three…no, four glasses of water before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Better?" I lift my brows.

"Much." He gives me a half-smile, and despite the grime and blood clinging to his skin, my stomach does a flip-flop. "I need to take a shower," he growls. "I stink."

He does not.

"That sounds good." I nod. I'm pretty sure I stink. "I could do with a serious shower."

His eyes flare with something that looks very much like lust.

"I have a spare bedroom," he says. "You can shower there. You must make yourself at home."

I nod, feeling strangely disappointed. It's not that I was expecting us to share a shower or anything, but still…I feel let down when he tells me about the spare room. I'm being silly.

"Let's get cleaned up, and then I will head out and pick up some supplies. I'll cook you dinner."

"You will not! I owe you so much, Creed." My voice breaks a little. "I owe you everything." I'm shocked at how close to tears I am. "I'm grateful…so grateful. I'll never be able to make it up to you."

"Hey…you don't have to make up for anything." He takes my hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over the tops of them. "Nothing at all. None of this was your fault."

"Still. You—"

"Really. I mean it." He lets me go. "You saved my ass today. I don't think anyone has stood up to that asshole colonel before." Creed laughs softly. He's so sexy. I can't help but think it. "You kicked his ass. Verbally, I mean, which is somehow sexier than—" He catches himself, getting this look. "Better than if you had actually kicked his ass. You put him firmly in his place with that sassy mouth of yours. I loved watching you in action."

I smile. "He deserved it. I can't believe that man. He seemed to have it in for you, but that makes no sense."

"Actually, it does." He rubs his mouth. "Taro is Chase's uncle. Chase is the male I beat and maimed. That's why Taro hates me so much."

I gasp. "That makes all kinds of sense." I smooth a hand down my shirt and clear my throat. "Still. It was wrong. He was using his position of power to get back at you for something you already served your time for."

"Yeah…well."

"Don't say you deserve it, or I'll kick your ass." We both laugh, but I sober up. "There's something else I need to just double-check on before making myself at home."

"Okay. Check away."

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here? I wanted to get away from there as quickly as I could. I wasn't thinking about anything else. But I can stay at the castle until that flight leaves in a week. I know you never wanted to come back here. I don't want to force you into—"

He makes a face and barks out a laugh. "You can't force me to do anything, Octavia. Thankfully, Taro knows that, or you might have been arrested after confessing to forcing me to have sex with you." His eyes seem to darken.

I shrug. "I did throw myself at you."

"You have a bad memory; there was zero throwing. I picked you up." His gaze drops to my mouth. "I wish I could've seen Taro's expression when you told him you would've had sex with me again if we'd had the chance. Or when you said that your vagina died and went to heaven."

"Me, too," I say; my voice is soft.

Creed chuckles. "Even though you were only joking, it would have been—"

"I wasn't joking," I blurt. "I was serious. I was serious when I said it was the best sex I ever had and totally serious when I said I would have liked to have done it again." I keep my eyes on his. They flare with definite heat.

Creed steps up to me, so close that we are almost touching. He makes this soft, growling noise that does things to my insides.

I put my hands on his chest and then gasp when I see all the bruises. "Shit! I forgot that you're hurt."

"I'm not too hurt to pleasure you…but I am too dirty." He gives a grunt of frustration.

"I'm also pretty dirty." I widen my eyes and scrunch up my nose. "Let's go and get clean. But I might need my back washed, so I suggest we use the same shower." I bob my brows. "Unless you'd rather I used the spare bedroom."

Creed smiles; it's naughty. "I was just saying that to be polite. I prefer your plan."

He takes my hand, and we go up the wooden staircase. I marvel at the intricate carving in the wood along the banister. It's of ivy. I run my fingers over the grooves, knowing that it was Creed who did this. I can see his workmanship in the detail and it's beautiful.

He leads me into a sunny bedroom. The bed is huge, with white linen and an abundance of pillows. The walls are painted a soft gray, with a large abstract painting on the wall. It's the only splash of color in the room, with yellow and red smeared across it.

"This way." He leads me into the bathroom, which is pristine as well. There is a large bathtub and a separate shower big enough for two. There's a double basin and a white and gray marble top. The backsplash in the shower is also the same kind of marble.

"This is impressive. All of it." I turn in a small circle, admiring his handiwork.

That is until I catch my reflection in the mirror. I'm reminded of all the dirt and grass stains, as well as my rat's nest for hair.

I look terrible.

Creed steps out of his linen pants, and I have to try not to stare. He's dirty and bloody, and yet somehow, he's freaking gorgeous. I think muscles and tattoos are my new favorite things.

I gape for a few moments, and then concentrate on taking off my own clothing. The torn jeans and my underwear. Next to go is my shirt, followed by my broken bra.

I frown, dangling the garment from my fingers. "This was my favorite bra, and I'm going to have to toss it in the trash."

I look up, and Creed is looking at me. Really looking. His cock is at full mast; it juts out, thick and proud, from his body. He swallows thickly, his gaze returning to my face. It burns with intensity. "You're so fucking beautiful."

I realize that he's never actually seen me fully naked until this moment. He's looking at me like I put the moon in the sky. Like I'm special. Like I'm everything. I know it's just lust. My mother always warned me not to mistake lust for actual feelings. I should take her advice right about now.

Besides, I do not look beautiful in the least. I have scrapes and bruises. I'm dirty. Back to my hair looking like something died in it. Like they didn't have an easy death, either. I think it might smell really bad, too, like the rest of me. This is the first time in years he's seen a woman undressed. It's that.

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, and then Creed turns and gets the shower going. I realize that there are two showerheads; he puts them both on.

"Let's get clean, Octavia. I want to taste your pussy." He pulls me under the spray. The water isn't even hot yet, but I don't care.

Taste your pussy.

Taste it.

Yes, please.

My clit is doing a happy dance at the prospect of being tasted. It doesn't take long for the water to heat and the steam to rise. Creed grabs some shower gel and squirts it onto his hands. It smells like ripe berries. He lathers it up and starts washing me, his touch gentle but thorough. I close my eyes and let him clean me, enjoying the sensation of his fingers on my skin.

As he washes my hair, he massages my scalp, and I can't help but moan softly at the pleasure it brings. His fingers brush my arms, my shoulders, and then my nipples, and I arch into his touch, wanting more. He cups my breasts, making me moan.

"So heavy," he groans. "So perfect." He sweeps a hand over my belly, touching the start of my curls.

I bite my lip, wanting his fingers to explore further, but he doesn't; he lathers his hands with more gel and takes my ass in his hands, kneading me there. I feel my sex being pulled open. Even that feels good.

I groan, gripping his cock in my hand and rubbing it from root to tip.

He growls. "Your touch feels so good." His eyes drift closed. His lashes are long and thick. "Too good." He grips my wrist, and I let go.

Then he gets down on his knees and washes first my feet and then my legs, using easy strokes. The spray from the shower cascades over both of us. He looks good wet. Most of the blood and dirt have washed away under the spray.

Then he nudges my legs open and cleans me there, in my most intimate place. No one has ever done that before. It leaves me panting and wet and not from water.

When he is done, he leans in and suckles on my clit, groaning against my flesh, which causes vibrations that have every nerve ending coming alive. I groan so deeply my throat hurts.

"You taste good, Octavia. Like honey and mountain dew."

Mountain dew? I'm not sure how that even tastes, but I don't care; I'll take it. It sounds like he is enjoying it, at any rate.

I grab onto his shoulders and squeeze, holding him tightly. My back arches, and I moan as he continues to work his magic down there. Each lick, nibble, and suckle sends a jolt of pleasure throughout my body.

I'm panting, my fingers digging into him. My eyes are wide. Creed continues his assault on my sensitive nub, and I feel the pressure building deep within me.

Holy shit. It's good. So good.

Then he puts one of my legs over his shoulder. "Hold on tight, beautiful," he says before plunging his tongue into my heat.

I cry out when he does it a second time before licking my clit again. Creed puts his finger inside me. He is big everywhere, even his hands. In and out. I cry out with every thrust of his finger. His mouth is back on my clit. He alternates between licking and sucking me there.

Sucking? Who knew it was a thing for a woman? It is! By now, I'm shaking. I'm close. Nearly there. I feel the tightening in my belly, my skin, my inner core. I tear my hands away from Creed's shoulders to grab onto the shower wall instead.

I'm gasping and panting and making other noises, too. I seize up as my orgasm hits. My toes curl, my back arches, and my body tenses as it hits me like a freight train.

My eyes roll back in my head, and I cry out his name. I'm sure I say it more than once. I can feel Creed's fingers still inside me, two or three, but I can't be sure. His mouth is still working my clit like a pro. The pleasure is almost too much, but at the same time, I realize that I am holding his head and rocking into his face. That I'm pulling him closer and demanding more, demanding everything. I'm not being gentle about it either.

Crap!

I force myself to ease off him. I don't want to hurt the poor guy after he just took several beatings for me, the last one to his face.

Finally, the waves of pleasure begin to subside, and I collapse against Creed, my legs still shaking. He stands, wrapping his arms around me, holding me for a few moments until I catch my breath.

"My turn to wash you," I tell him in a husky voice that is full of promise.

Creed shakes his head. He squeezes some shower gel into his hand and starts washing himself. I've never seen anyone clean themselves so fast.

"Why not? I would love to return the favor." I look down at his very hard member. "He looks like he wants me to."

"I need to get to the store," Creed growls.

"Are you that hungry?" Again, disappointment hits hard. Did I do something wrong? Say something wrong?

"Seriously fucking hungry." He leans in and brushes a kiss over my lips. "But not just for food. I need to get condoms." He steps out from under the shower. "I want to come deep inside you, Octavia."

Say what? My heart starts to beat, and my core tightens like my orgasm never happened.

He grabs a towel. "I'll be back soon. Don't get dressed!" Then he runs out of the bathroom. He runs like his ass is on fire.

I want to come deep inside you.

I smile, touching my hand to my mouth. I think I would like that very much.