Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen - Gabriella
I stir awake as the delicious smell of waffles tickles my nose. I love waffles! My eyes fly open to see a tray on the bed beside me containing a glass of orange juice and a stack of waffles. Crispy, yet fluffy golden grids of goodness, with each pocket holding a sweet little mixture of butter and maple syrup. I have to gulp down the saliva building up in my mouth before it drools out onto my pillow. I quickly sit up and find Jartre sitting on the edge of the bed watching me in amusement, his long snowy white hair cascading around his gorgeous face almost glowing in the light of the morning sun.
Fucking hell, does he always look this amazing?
“Now I know how to wake you up; bribe you with food,” he chuckles, his deep rumbling laugh reminding me of thunder, which seems incredibly apt given what I now know.
“You made me breakfast?” I ask in surprise, then only realise now that he’s still here in my loft, “You stayed the night?”
“I more accurately conjured breakfast, but it will taste the same. And yes. After another hour or so of talking, you fell asleep mid-sentence just as you were telling me about when your love of singing began. I considered leaving, but after you told me of the pain your visions cause you I decided to stay, so I could relieve your pain should it happen again, but you don’t seem to be in any pain,” he says with relief.
I smile, touched by his concern and compassion. I can’t remember a single time Mitchell, or any ex for that matter ever gave a fuck about my migraines. They either considered my pain to be annoying, a “female thing” or something I just needed to get over. I’m realising my taste in men has been exceptionally shite. Or maybe there are no decent available human men in the world anymore and that only left me with a God, which so far I am not complaining about. I mean, let’s recap here. He’s given me the world’s greatest orgasm and never asked for any sexual favours in return, he saved my life from getting hit by a car, he’s shown me compassion and patience, which I can tell does not come naturally to him, and now he’s making me breakfast and staying by my side just to make sure I’m okay. If this is what an animai is then I hit the fucking jackpot.
My smile widens and in return so does his. “Thank you, for the breakfast and for worrying about me,” I say as I reach out and take hold of his gargantuan hand, once again feeling my skin burn from our contact. I’m getting more used to it, and to be honest, I find myself seeking it out now. The feeling that being close and touching him gives me is addictive, and I’m quickly jonesing for another fix. This can’t be healthy.
“You are most welcome,” he says reverently, brushing his thumb against the back of my hand and making my breath hitch.
“I’m not sure what you could have done about my migraines though.” I collect the tray and place it on my lap as I sit back against the headboard and take a sip of the OJ, not detecting any weird magical aftertaste.
“Well, for starters, all Gods can heal people, but more importantly, as your animai, my presence alone can relieve your pain and suffering,” he says nonchalantly.
“Come again,” I say in stunned surprise.
He carefully scoots over to me, sitting up beside me, “When someone is hurt – emotionally or physically – being close to their animai can help heal them or ease how they’re feeling, even more so if they touch. I’m not sure the degree of effectiveness in incomplete bonds, but I’m sure it still helps.”
“Wait, what do you mean incomplete bonds?” I ask just as my stomach sounds, reminding me of its waffle craving.
“You eat, I talk,” he instructs, so I proceed to start cutting bite-size pieces of waffles and plopping them into my mouth, trying not to moan in ecstasy at how delicious they taste. “Think of an animai bond as like a jigsaw puzzle. Your soul is one piece of the puzzle and my essram is another. When we met, those two pieces found each other, but they won’t lock together until the bond is completed.”
“And how do you complete it?” I ask with a mouthful of waffle.
He runs his fingers through his thick, voluminous hair as he lets out a gush of air, “I’ll get back to you on that.”
I swallow down my food, “You don’t know?”
“I do, I’m just not sure what that would mean for us given how glaringly different we are.”
“You mean because you Tarzan and me Jane?” I joke. His entire forehead wrinkles in confusion at my words, and I decide to just shake it off. Obviously, this man isn’t familiar with the classics. “Never mind.”
I finish my waffles and juice in record time and grin up at him like a kid at Christmas, “Thank you for my breakfast, it was delicious. Though you’re welcome to use my kitchen, I wouldn’t have minded.”
He snaps his fingers, causing the tray to vanish from my lap. He then wraps his engorged biceps around me and pulls me into his side, and without protest, I once again snuggle up against him, immediately feeling my entire body relax in contentment.
“That wasn’t going to happen. I haven’t the slightest idea how to cook,” he says ambivalently.
I look up at him in astonishment, “You’re older than the discovery of fire and yet you can’t cook?”
“I’ve never needed to. I can conjure anything I like at will; it comes naturally to me.”
“Well, I guess you’d save a shit tone of money on grocery bills.”
I continue to relax against him as his thick fingers soothingly comb through my hair and I ponder over what he said about this bond of ours. What he says makes sense because it completely explains how I’ve been feeling, but I’m wondering how the hell you complete a bond. Is chanting and a sacrificial goat involved? Cause I can handle the first part, but not so much the second.
“What are you thinking about?” he suddenly asks.
“You don’t know?” I tease.
“You asked me not to read your mind and I am trying to respect your wishes.”
“So you haven’t read my mind once since I asked you not to?” I ask sceptically, only to be met with silence. I lift my head and see him looking down at the living room, “Jartre?”
He sighs, “It was only once.”
I roll my eyes, “You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re asking me to stop doing what comes naturally to me,” he says in frustration, cupping his hand to my cheek and forcing me to look into his piercing silver eyes, “I am going against my every desire and impulse that is engrained into the very core of my being just to ensure you’re comfort. You can’t begin to fathom how difficult this is for me, but I do it for you because you are mine, and I don’t mean as property, but as the missing part of me. You are mine the same way I am yours, and so for you, I am trying, but allow me some lenience when I slip up, please?” he begs, his words freezing me in place. That sure put things in perspective for me.
I can sit here and talk about how hard all this is for me, but all I have to do is just grow to accept it which I’m not finding all that hard to do if I’m honest. I should probably be running screaming and having myself committed, but all of this – as crazy as it is – feels natural to me. When I started working at the Glitter Hole I felt like I’d found my tribe, and there is a similar feeling with Jartre and his world, only that feeling is much stronger.
The point is, knowing what I know doesn’t change who I am, it just means introducing new things into my life. In the meantime, he has to hold back on being who and what he is out of fear of how I’ll react – which I’m sure is something Derrick and Wyatt can relate to. He keeps calling me human, but I don’t think he means it as an insult. I think he’s trying to remind himself how much more fragile I am than him on a physical level. He has to be cautious with me but he’s doing so without complaint because he cares about me; some woman he barely even knows. If he’s willing to make so many accommodations for me, the least I can do is compromise for him.
“I’m sorry,” I say sincerely, lifting my hand to his cheek and feeling my heart flutter when he leans his cheek into my touch, “I didn’t realise how hard this was for you. I can be more understanding; it’s not asking too much. You’ve respected my space and boundaries when I have asked for it, the least I can do is give you the same patience and consideration.”
His eyes search mine and I see his face relax in relief, “Thank you, Starlight.”
I smile, brushing my thumb against his cheek, surprised by how soft his beard feels beneath my palm, “You’re welcome.”
“It’s not so bad,” he admits as his fingers gently weave into my hair making my skin tingle, “Should we complete our bond your thoughts will be as open to me as mine will be to you.”
“Say what now?”
“Two unified souls can share each other’s thoughts and feelings at all times and communicate telepathically. They are open books to one another.”
“Are you saying I’d never have any privacy ever again?” I squeak.
He smiles in amusement, “You can always put up a block when you wish to be alone with your thoughts and feelings.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know,” I say, relaxing a little. This bond thing is fucking intense.
“Would it be so bad to be so connected to me?” he asks, and while his face is impassive, there’s a sadness I can detect in his voice that makes my stomach flip uncomfortably.
I think that over carefully. Had I known what Mitchell was thinking and feeling I never would have let him stick around as long as he did; sure as fuck wouldn’t have let him get away with banging that skank for so long behind my back either. If relationships need communication to survive, then it seems like this Goddess has created the ultimate tool to avoid miscommunication. Albeit extreme, but I imagine effective.
I shake my head, giving him my answer, “No, it wouldn’t be so bad. I think it might even be nice,” I smile, and watch him smile back at me.
“You do?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“Would make communication far more efficient. Why check someone’s phone when you can just read their mind?”
“I don’t have a phone,” he deadpans.
“Of course you don’t.”
He gently tilts my chin up as he pears into my eyes and the longer I look into his I swear his irises are like mercury moving in a swirling motion in his eyes, slowly hypnotising me.
“Does this mean you’re willing to give me a chance?” he whispers.
I gulp at the intensity in his eyes and voice that causes my body to shiver from head to toe as if his words have a direct link to my nervous system.
“I feel like I’d be a pretty big idiot if I didn’t,” I say in a breathy whisper.
His eyes light up, shining with so much hope that if I were standing would knock me off my feet, and with no preamble, his lips descend on mine in a kiss that consumes my senses. Instantly I feel my entire body light up like the Fourth of July while my brain is nowhere near the helm. As if rehearsed, my fingers find their way into his hair holding him in place – like I even could – as my lips press back firmly against his. His lips are soft as satin, but strong and commanding and as they begin to move against mine I feel my insides throbbing, waking up my libido from its dormant slumber once again.
One large hand cups the back of my head gently, holding me in place as his fingers fist my hair tightly; possessively even, while his other arm snakes around me and pulls me flush against his body. I moan into his mouth as my lips move against his, committing them to memory and I feel myself getting wetter than I ever thought I was capable of. My tongue snakes out and teases the seam of his lips and in response, he tightens his hold on my hair as he lets out a low growl against my lips that makes my body quiver deliciously.
Ho-ly fuck.
“Don’t tempt a beast if you’re not prepared for it to bite,” he says in low warning as his chest rises and falls against my body.
I look up into his eyes and see them burning with hunger that releases such an intense throb through my pussy that it acts like a shockwave through my body. How the fuck does he have such power over my body with such few words?
Oh, right. God.
I lick my lips slowly in anticipation and watch the way his eyes follow the movement like an animal stalking its prey, “Maybe I want to be bitten,” I pant wantonly.