My demons retreat to the shadows, quietly hissing and making their discontent clear.
“Is everything okay?” she signs.
I slam my notebook shut, throw it on the table beside me, and grab her by the waist, then sit her on my lap. She feels small and fucking perfect in my arms—like this is exactly where she was always supposed to be. I bury my nose in her slightly damp hair and I breathe in the magnolia scent.
And yes, I have that shampoo and body wash here.
My lungs expand as I inhale her and I release a long hum. “It is now.”
Mia wiggles on my thigh until she’s sitting sideways with her back against the desk. Her eyes glitter in a watery blue, like the Mediterranean Sea under the scorching sun.
Was she always so fucking beautiful or am I falling harder onto that bottomless hole?
She studies me closely, which has been the norm since the rooftop date. As if she’s trying to get under my skin by using every method at her disposal.
“What were you thinking about just now?” she finally signs.
“Why are you asking?”
“You seemed so lost in thought and I want to know what someone like you thinks about when you’re trapped in your own head.”
“Nothing good, to be frank.” My fingers slide beneath the hoodie and I stroke her hip slowly, sensually.
She shudders but soon recovers. “Tell me.”
“It’s best to leave some skeletons in the closet.”
“But I want to know.”
“The skeletons? My, muse. Is this a new kink?”
She teasingly swats my shoulder. “Don’t even think about changing the subject.”
My smile flattens. “My mind is wired to see the bad before the good. In fact, everything sunshine and rainbows is often an afterthought, never a main idea. My instinct is pro-manipulation, corruption, and anarchy, which means it revolts against the very notion of neurotypical people’s socially acceptable behavior. I have a beast that’s in constant need of stimulation and if I don’t satiate those demands, I’ll spiral down a worse path.”
As soon as the words are out, I curse myself internally for disclosing that information so easily. In fact, I can’t even fathom that I just talked about it to someone other than Uncle Aiden and sometimes Dad.
I’ve been a proud member of the Antisocial Club to the point where I could be elected as its president. That’s why I’ve always prided myself on being private and secretive. I’ve never been an open book, not even when I was younger or with therapists. They tried, but as soon as I perfected the game of social emulation and learned emotion, I played them as skillfully as a chess board.
Mia, however, is different. I tried to play her, but I never quite succeeded.
She looks at me with a sense of understanding instead of clinical judgment. Only three people have ever given me that look. Mum, Dad—after he realized it was pointless to put me on a leash—and Uncle Aiden.
And now, her.
Mia.
She watches me for a few beats as if she could skin me alive and insert herself between my ribs. After careful thought, she signs, “Is that why you’ve been finding it hard to stay still ever since you announced the truce with the Heathens?”
Perceptive little minx.
“Partially.”
“What’s the other part?”
“You playing an infuriating push-and-pull game.”
“Well, I couldn’t trust you before.”
“Does that mean you do now?”
“I’m starting to.” She clears her throat. “Do you feel better?”
I tighten my grip on her waist, my fingers digging into the soft skin. “Now that you’re here, yes.”
“That’s enough?”
“To make the urges dull down, yes.”
“Is that why you said I’m the only one who can quench the rage?”
I nod. “You’re a good sport.”
“But what if I stop being a good sport? Will you dispose of me if I get in your way?”
“You’re not a good sport most of the time and you’re always in my way. You don’t see me pushing you away.”
“What if I never change and continue being difficult and too much myself.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. Don’t ever change. You’re perfect the way you are.”
A shudder rushes through her and she smiles a little. “Did Bran teach you to say that?”
“Fuck no. In fact, I should teach him a few things.”
“Because he’s an empath?”
“That’s a problem as well, but my biggest concern is that he’s a bit of a prude and has little to no experience.”
“Ever thought that’s because girls have used him to get to you?”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
“He told me.”
“Getting a bit too cozy with Bran, aren’t you?”
“He’s a very good friend.”
“Hmm.”
“Stop it.” She smiles. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of your own twin brother.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m territorial. Besides, there’s a reason I’m more popular than him.”
“The fact you’re a dick?”
“There’s that. He’s also extremely emotionally stunted sometimes. Don’t let the image he wears so well fool you. There’s another side to him that he keeps under lock and key.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
She observes me with a slight frown, but, thankfully, she chooses to let it go and points at my pad. “Were you sketching?”
“Yeah. Not much luck, I’m afraid.”
“You didn’t sleep?”
“Don’t have time for it.”
“But you never sleep.”
“Sleep is overrated.” I stop there, not wanting to disclose that I do sleep, just not when she’s around.
She’s been single-handedly driving my superior creativity lately and I’d rather get the most out of it than sleep.
Mia glares.
I pinch her cheek. “Did I ever tell you that you look adorable when you glare? It gets me hard.”
Her cheeks redden as she signs, “Everything gets you hard.”
“Not everything. You.”
“Not me. The kinks.”
“Not the kinks. You.” I lift her chin with my thumb and forefinger. “They do offer a sprinkle of spice, and yes, they’re undeniably thrilling, but they’re not strictly mandatory when I’m with you. I used to go to sex clubs and indulge in all sorts of fuckery because normal stopped working out for me since secondary school. Although I managed to reach physical climax countless times, it was never fully satisfying.”
“Even with the kinks?”
“Even with the kinks. You’re the only one I’ve reached a mental climax with.”
“In some time?”
“In ever.”
Her lips curl in a proud smirk. “Guess that means we’re each other’s firsts after all.”
“Don’t get smug Miss Prude Virgin Until Fairly Recently.”
“Virgin or not, I managed to offer the great Landon King something no one else has.” She ruffles my hair, seeming so happy with herself.
I grin in return. “You find me great?”
“Get over yourself.”
“Impossible.”
She shakes her head, but the smile still paints her lips. “What were you working on?”
“Nothing satisfying.”
“Ever thought that you’re too hard on yourself?”
“Not hard—selective. I don’t vibe well with mediocrity.”
“Nothing you make is mediocre.” She points at her statue. “I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but you can’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s my property, like you, little muse.”
She frowns. “I’m not a thing.”
“No, you’re not. But you’re still mine.”
“Well, are you mine, then?”
“If you want.”
She bites the corner of her lip and releases it, then clears her throat and looks around for another way to change the topic.
That’s fine. If she’s this rattled by me, it means I’m drawing her deeper into my world. Sooner or later, she’ll have no choice but to let her guard down and completely belong to me.
After a few seconds, she signs, “How come you’re not smoking and making your lungs as black as your soul?”
“I quit.”
“Really?”
“Cigarettes were always an indulgence I could walk away from. I don’t get addicted.” Except for when it comes to you.
It’s not only obsession or limerence at this point. And it’s definitely a lot more addictive. The fact that my demons immediately calmed down the moment she appeared is both fascinating and alarming.
And yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Good. It’s not good for your health.”
“And your health.”
“And the plants!” She smiles. “Thank you for taking care of them. They’re alive and pretty.”
“I was bored.”
“You’re never bored enough to take care of plants, so just take the thank-you without being so sarcastic about it.” She hops off my lap before I can stop her. “I have to go check on them. It’s best to water them this early in the morning.”
“Are you seriously exchanging my godly company with some flowers?”
“You can join me,” she offers over her shoulder with a flirtatious smile and then she’s out the front door.
I’d rather crash and burn in my McLaren as it falls off a cliff.
Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and my wellies as I make my way to the small garden Mia created.
What? I was bored. Besides, I’m not in the mood to be trapped by my own creativity again.
Mia looks up from her crouched position and lifts her gloved hand to shield her eyes from the rising sun. I stand in its path and slide a hand into my pocket. “I’m gracing you with my presence. I accept worship in the form of blowjobs.”
She laughs and shakes her head, then signs, “Don’t just stand there. Make yourself useful and get me the fertilizer spikes.”
The blasphemy. How dare she treat me like a servant for the demon flowers that she’s giving more attention than me. I should’ve squashed them to death when I had the chance and chalked the whole thing up to an unfortunate flower death. Happens every day in many flower shops and wouldn’t be frowned upon by any stretch of the imagination.
Since that option is currently out of the question, I go fetch the fertilizer and even put on gloves. Then I, Landon King, the legendary genius of contemporary art, help water the little flower fuckers.
My logic is simple. The sooner she’s done with this tedious chore, the faster I can get her to round two. Maybe this time, I’ll paint her pretty little body as I fuck her on all fours on the canvas. Or maybe I’ll sketch something on her back while I fuck her senseless. I’m nothing less than versatile when it comes to fucking and art. Combine the two together and you get a recipe for guaranteed success.
“You’re not supposed to try to stab them, Landon.” Mia laughs and catches my hand to show me how.
So I make mistakes on purpose so she can ‘correct’ my actions further. Now, this I can deal with, unlike entitled flowers that have no business getting between me and my muse.
After I get over my childish, immature feelings about literal plants, I focus more on Mia. I love the carefree, happy expression on her face as she strokes and even signs to the flowers as if they’re pets.
“You could make a career out of this,” I say when she keeps inspecting the seeds.
“Oh, I will,” she signs. “I’m going to be a badass businesswoman who will make the world a better place for plants.”
“Pretty sure you’re confusing business with activism.”
“I can do both. Money talks, so I’ll have that and use it to give the plants a better life.”
“How about your family’s notorious mafia business?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Fortunately or unfortunately, that responsibility falls on Nikolai’s shoulders. Mom and Dad promised that Maya and I can marry and do whatever we want. Imagine me having to marry one of the mafia heirs?”
“Not so hard to do, considering your liaisons with Jeremy.”
“Jeremy is a responsible leader and a trustworthy friend.”
“Hmm. Go on. Tell me a bit more so I can bump him up to the top of my shit list.”
“Don’t be jealous.” She laughs.
“Me? Jealous? I don’t process those feelings, love.”
“You obviously do. Aside from the Jeremy thing, Bran said you made it clear that I’m yours in order to keep him and Remi away.”
“As it should be. Bran is my brother, but even he isn’t allowed to mess with what’s mine. As for Remi, he’s a nuisance.”
“No, he’s not. He’s actually funny and fun.”
Funny and fun. Not just funny or fun. It’s both funny and fun.
I better not see his face in the near future or I’ll be tempted to ruin it.
In fact, maybe I should do just that. He’s too carefree for his own good and could use a lesson or a few.
I’m still contemplating the best plan to bring Remi down when, all of a sudden, the sky opens up and the rain comes pouring down.
Mia gets to her feet and grabs my hands, then we run toward the gazebo in the middle of the garden.
But it’s too late. We soon realize that we’re both soaking wet.
We look at each other, pause, and then burst out in laughter.
It’s one of the few genuine laughs I’ve ever had, and it’s only because she’s by my side.
The rain hammers down on us. Mia’s blonde strands stick to her face, but she still looks like a goddess as she laughs, the sound echoing around me like my favorite tune. Droplets of rain stick to her upper lip and then make a path to beneath her hoodie.
Mia stops in the middle of the yard, takes my hand again, then uses it to twirl herself under the rain. Just when I’m about to join in the cheesy dance, she releases me, a sly look penetrating her light irises. “Catch me if you can.”
Then she resumes running.
My beast roars to life as if it was never dormant. This is what Mia has that no one else does. She’s not prey to my beast, she’s its match.
The yin to his yang.
The crazy to his insanity.
I leap right behind her. Mia chances a look back and releases an excited yelp when she sees me within touching distance.
And I realize as I catch up to her inside the gazebo that I wish this moment would last for an eternity and beyond.
But since that’s not doable, I will prolong it for as long as possible.
Looks like classes are canceled for both of us today.
* * *