Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

19. Etta

19

Etta

‘What Kind of Man Loves Like This’- Florence and the Machine

M y eyes are bloodshot, my head groggy, but no ache is present. I spend several seconds stretching like a cat, testing out my limbs. I’m not as hungover as I should be. And I’m definitely not as heavy, subconsciously, that is. There’s a lightness in my chest that hasn’t been present in many months. A trill of satisfaction that thrums in my veins. Then I remember why…

Odin’s concerned expression. Odin blocking the ice cold water from touching me. Odin’s naked chest beneath my hands. Odin cradling my face. Odin’s delicate and monumental confession. His wife. Her death. Our shared agony.

Odin. Odin. Odin.

My entire being flushes with heat. My stomach twists with butterflies. I have to clap my hands over my face to keep myself calm.

Then I sense a presence to my right and notice Odin sitting in a chair, watching me.

“Good morning, Edward.” I stifle a startled yelp behind another yawn, arching my lower back. Odin is dressed—such a shame—wearing a cream linen button-up shirt rolled up his forearms and slightly loose fitted tan pants. “Have you never seen Twilight?” I prompt, reading his silence as confusion.

“No.”

In a weird male voice, I repeat the infamous line. “ I like watching you sleep. It’s, uh, kind of fascinating to me .”

Odin grimaces. “That’s… unpleasant.”

“Consider it as my first form of payback after the wedding. Twilight marathon. I’ll get us matching shirts.”

Straightening, he slides forward till his forearms rest on his knees. He looks nothing like the man who stood with me in the shower. But then again, I don’t look like the woman who wanted to melt and flow down the drain, either.

“I’ll pass,” he replies, his voice smooth. Standing, he makes his way around the bed. I watch every movement, fascinated by the fluidity of his steps, the ripple in his thighs, the sculpted muscles of his arms. “Martise has organized a walking tour. You’re late, but you’ll be able to make it if you run.”

“What?” I throw myself out of the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you never wake a sleeping woman unless you have a death sentence.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

There’s a polite knock at the door. “Dr. Lewis? I’ll wait for you out here. ”

“She’s coming,” Odin calls. “Here.” He passes me a bottle of red liquid—sugary hydralite—and another one full of sparkling water. I take them greedily, my cheeks blushing with embarrassment, then I race into the bathroom to get changed. I’m out and walking with Martise in under two minutes.

It’s not long during the tour that I start to feel an empty ache spread in my chest. Not the usual loneliness, but one that has grown from an unlikely interaction between foes. Martise is wonderful, full of warm energy, incredibly intelligent and eager to speak with me, but I can’t shake the realization that I wish Odin was here. Even if we didn’t talk or look at each other. His protective nature, the certainty that he would make a great partner, is something I’ve always craved.

And that’s a quality I can’t help admiring in my fiancé.

Upon my return to our secluded lodging, I find Omandi standing at the door with a garment bag in hand. “Ah, Etta. Muli bwanji?” he says.

My answer to his question is a guess. “I’m… good?”

“Very good!” He lets loose a loud clap of laughter. “I have a delivery to give to you.”

I take the garment bag from him. “Thank you.”

“Dinner will be ready in half’n hour,” he smiles and shifts to walk away.

“How do I say thank you?”

He slows down the word for me to pick up on the syllables. “ Zikomo .”

“ Zikomo ,” I repeat back to him.

Omandi nods and wags his finger at me. “You a fast learner, eh?”

I chuckle. “I have a wonderful teacher. ”

Omandi nods and heads back toward the main house, where we will be dining soon. I take the garment bag into the cabin.

Inside, Odin stands near the bar cart. Amusement flashes across his face like a sudden change in the wind. His demeanor is nowhere near as frightening as it had been the first time I met him. It’s still as deep and as unsettling as swimming in the open sea, but there’s the hope of a boat waiting to rescue me now. An island not so far from my reach, which holds a myriad of secrets.

“Omandi said dinner is in half an hour,” I say, struggling to keep my cool despite my mind wanting me to remember how perfect he felt beneath my hands, his chest pressed softly against my front, his heat, his expensive cologne mixed with his natural scent. How in those few minutes while I flailed for air, I had gladly succumbed to his warmth, his presence. I was safe and cocooned in another person’s arms, not wanting to move lest the spell should break.

But it did, and now I don’t know whether I want to experience it again or leave it in the past.

He nods toward the garment bag resting over my arms. “Are you going to open it?”

Raising an eyebrow, I lay the bag on the end of the bed and pull the zip down. Silky, delicate fabric peeks through the gap. Dresses—beautiful designer dresses. Two have spaghetti straps and flow down past my knee, one silver, the other midnight blue. Another dress is a burnt orange color with one shoulder and sections cut out down the sides. The last one is made from a green and yellow flower pattern with bubbly sleeves and a skirt that stops mid-thigh. All of them are prettier than anything I have ever worn in my life. Designed by angels and stitched by fairies.

“Did you pick these?” I ask, breathless.

“Do you approve? ”

I run my hands down the midnight blue dress. I’m trying really hard not to crush them to my chest and giggle. “Sure.”

“You should get ready,” Odin suggests. Nodding, I take my chosen dress and head to the bathroom sink. I spend the next hour doing my makeup—using everything in my arsenal. I paint my lips a darker shade of nude and my eyelids a masterpiece of black and brown and gray, that blend together seamlessly to give the impression I’m wearing a sultry mask, or the night sky, bare of any stars. I spray my body with the perfume bottle Dom got for me, loving the notes of orange and sandalwood and orchid. Then I fluff my hair up a bit, liking how it’s ruffled and wavy, and a little wild.

Mmmm. It seems Africa is infecting me.

It also seems there might be some alcohol still left in my system.

Several times as I work on my face, I notice Odin looking in my direction. He can’t hide it. Not when the mirror reflects the entire room back to me. My shoulders, my lower spine, my ass, feel like a target for weapons practice and Odin’s stare is the bullets. Soon, I’m arching my hips, pushing them back as my chest leans forward.

Face inflamed, I break away from my display and hide behind the canvas so I can put the dress on. As I strip down to my underwear, I start to panic that Odin can see me. And if he could, he’d be able to see that my nipples are stiff, and my skin is puckered with goosebumps.

I take the midnight blue dress—the color too exquisite to ignore—off the hanger and smooth my hands down the silky fabric. I step into it and pull the straps up onto my shoulders. It’s loose, but shapely, and the neckline falls in a low scoop, showing off my chest. I don’t have a bra that will suit it, so I go without, totally aware of how dangerous it’ s going to be.

Exiting the safety of the bathroom, I grab my sparkling water and drink the whole thing. Then I make my way back to the bedroom side of the cabin.

My footsteps falter when Odin sees me. His face is calm, neutral, but the glass of whiskey rising to his mouth halts for a beat. Like he’s frozen. With one look, he sets my hesitation to flame.

Damn it.

The ache in my lower body expands, digging in deep, impossible to ignore.

“Shall we go?” I ask, putting down the empty bottle, holding his intense stare.

Odin finishes his drink in one sip. “Lead the way.”

Before we exit, I grab some strappy stilettos from my suitcase. As I bend down to put them on, my dress dips and exposes my chest. Odin shifts his stance, turns slightly toward me. The satisfied curl of my lips is difficult to smother.

“ Zikomo ,” I murmur as Odin gets the door for me.

“ Mwalandilidwa ,” he replies. I balk at him and the tiniest hint of a smirk teases at the corner of his mouth. It’s quicker than a lightning strike, almost making me think I imagined it.

But the afterglow Odin exudes isn’t fake.

And I am helpless to step out from under it.

I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve to be kidnapped and forcibly married, but right now, I’m fucking over the moon about it.

Dinner is taking place on a table set for four on a rounded wooden platform hanging over the Luangwa River, the perimeter dotted with scented candles and flickering oil lamps. The sun is still setting, bathing everything in a peachy hue, strengthening the intimate ambiance and setting my pulse on fire.

Dom and Ford are already waiting for us to arrive. They’re standing on the platform, looking out over the river, a wine in Dom’s hand and a beer in Ford’s. The former is wearing a white button-up shirt and cream pants ensemble, while the latter is in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. They make a really beautiful couple. Both strong in their own right, both secretive until you peel back a layer or two. I don’t know how I didn’t see their connection earlier. They’re never not near each other. Ford is always looking when Dom doesn’t notice. Dom is always smiling when Ford looks away.

When they hear the sound of my stiletto heel, they turn together and break out into matching smiles. Again, I don’t understand why I deserve such a lovely greeting, but it’s nice to see it and even nicer to accept it.

“Well, hello there,” Ford purrs as he takes my hand and steers me toward the table. Odin remains close, his body a wall of heat at my back. He must make a face or something because Ford smirks. “Down, boy. I’m just doing what any gentleman would do.”

Each of us take a seat. Odin to my left, Ford to my right, and Dom opposite me. The table is decorated with glass cylinders with tiny tea lights dancing inside them, dried flower petals from local foliage and a bottle of red wine. Dom pours me one as Omandi greets us.

“Welcome, my friends. I hope you are all well and hungry.” Omandi’s energy is so joyful I can’t help but eagerly nod. “We have some traditional Zambian food for you to enjoy.”

“The dessert is my favorite,” Martise calls as she descends the wooden runway that leads to the platform. She’s wearing a long floral dress, hoop earrings and red stained lips. Tall and graceful, she reminds me of a gazelle. She winks when she sees me, and I melt inside.

Omandi brings out our dinners with Martise’s help. As she sets them down, she explains the delicacies. “Braised beef with aubergine, sweet potato and nsima .”

“It looks delicious,” Ford says, picking up his knife and fork, ready to devour the meal.

“Where is everyone?” I ask Martise, noticing the lack of activity besides the few employees.

“They are being entertained at another lodge for the night. Quite happily, I might add.”

“ Zikomo ,” I say as she places a napkin on my lap. As well this particular dish, a basket of bread and butter is placed on the table and a new round of wine poured.

I dig in, my mouth salivating at the first taste.

Odin is quiet during the meal, but Dom and Ford make up for it with their casual bickering. Ford seems relaxed, but now and then, I notice him scan the distance, his hand reaching for his phone in his pocket.

The whole thing is surreal. Like I’ve stepped through a doorway into another realm, one where my stresses have been set aside for my desires. One that allows me a chance to breathe and be present and absorb my movements in the world around me.

I’m smiling, too. Laughing. It comes freely and without doubt. Nothing has ever felt more natural.

“Etta, what’s your go to card game?” Ford asks.

I shrug, sipping my wine. “Um. I have no idea.”

“Come on, everyone has a game that they know how to play.”

“Okay. Probably Presidents and Assholes.”

Dom chokes on his drink. “Pardon? ”

“It’s a quick and easy game. Whoever can get rid of their cards first is the President and whoever is last becomes the Asshole.”

“We’re playing. Omandi!” Ford asks Omandi for a stack of cards, and while he’s gone, I try to explain the game as simply as I can. Dom watches me intently, while Ford is watching him and trying not to laugh. I can’t see Odin. I refuse to look at him, not when the memory of his hands on me is still so fresh in my mind.

“Okay, okay. What’s your advice?” Ford asks, shuffling the new deck of cards in his large hands.

“Get rid of the lower cards first. Keep a straight face.”

Ford deals the entire deck between the four of us and we spend a few minutes getting all our cards in order. Normally, it takes a few rounds to get the gist of the game, but these three men take no time at all and are in need of no further instruction.

Halfway through the first round, Ford and I are down to two cards each. I’m hoping he has a low card so that I can beat him. If I come out as the President in the first round, I’ll never let them hear the end of it.

My hope dissipates when Odin places down a pair of cards that beat us all.

“Why did you do that?” I exclaim. “Why would you hold on to them for so long?”

Odin’s normally cold expression is amused. “I like seeing you sweat.”

I glare at him while Dom and Ford snicker. “Whatever,” I grumble, and slurp the rest of my drink down.

We finish the round. I come second, Ford third and Dom last.

Dom tries to not be ruffled, but I can see he isn’t happy. Ford sneaks in a quick kiss on his cheek before Dom can deny him. It’s adorable.

“Alright, Dom, you can start first,” I say.

The game unfolds quietly, all of us concentrating. Ford and I have the worst hands and start to fall behind. Very quickly, it’s down to Dom and Odin, and I’m quite happy to watch the two of them battle it out. Dom is focused, his face composed, but every now and then, I see a flicker of doubt. Odin, on the other hand, is confident—not smug, but not humble either. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows how to get it. The only way to play the game is his way. And it’s that glimpse of surety that has me shuffling on the spot, the space between my legs warming, moistening. Last night, Odin set a small fire ablaze inside of me that I can’t for the life of me snuff out.

Dom puts down a good card, making Odin’s lips twitch. Is he happy? Or pissed? I’m leaning forward in my seat. My chest is tight, my stomach spinning. Odin glances at me. “Your turn,” he says, low and rough. I jolt on the spot, the cards in my hand splaying out onto the table. The force of his handsome face knocking me about.

“Shit. Pass. Pass. I can’t beat that,” I mumble as Ford laughs.

“Well, looks like we know who the next asshole will be.” I throw him my middle finger, which only makes him laugh more.

Back to Odin, he picks a card with his long fingers, taps it against his lips three times. But instead of putting it onto the pile, he says, “Pass.”

Dom’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Getting to start the next round, he puts down a high-ranking card. An ace.

Without hesitation, Odin picks a card from his fingers, looks Dom directly in the eye, and puts it down.

Two.

Dom swears. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

Odin raises his eyebrows and licks his bottom lip. “I’m the President, actually.” Oh boy. If seeing him smile wasn’t cataclysmic enough, seeing him playful is almost too much. It transforms him entirely.

“Well done. That was quite a game you played,” I say, shivering from the drop in temperature.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Odin gets up and leaves, and I shrink a little, thinking I might have said something wrong. He returns a few minutes later with a suit jacket. He places it around my shoulders, and I know instantly he’s worn this recently. The scent of him is still fresh, still pure. My shoulders tremble with a satisfied shiver, while my stomach pulses, the ache growing exponentially.

“Thank you,” I say, finding his gaze. His single gray eye twinkles like a smoldering meteorite.

“You’re welcome.”

Ford grunts as he stretches his arms. “Alright, I’m out. I need some rest after spending all my energy keeping you three alive.”

“The night is still young,” I say.

He cracks his neck. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

We stand, trail up the platform and halt once back on the river ledge. I cling to the center of Odin’s jacket, retreating into it like a turtle into its shell. The scent of his skin, musky and masculine, is sending me into a daze.

Ford and Dom say goodbye to us, and I sense as they leave that they wanted to say more. Maybe it’s better if they don’t. This relationship between the three of us took more than a step tonight. It took a giant leap.

“Let’s go,” Odin says.

Night has swept in and with it, a shimmering veil of the brightest stars I have ever seen. I walk the whole way back with Odin, staring at the sky, and as we do, it doesn’t feel nearly as oppressive as it should. I’m almost skipping, that’s how buoyant I feel. I trip multiple times, my heels snagging in the gaps between the wooden boardwalk that leads to our secluded cabin. The third time it happens, Odin takes my hand and slides it into the crook of his elbow.

I raise my brows at him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Don’t want you walking down the aisle with crutches,” he drawls.

When we reach the door, I lay out my hand, a silent demand for the keys. I’m doing it on purpose, teasing him, but I can’t help it when he’s so broody. He takes them from his pocket and slides them into my palm. I turn, looking for the lock. My fingers slip and the keys land at my feet. I bend to retrieve them from the ground so quickly I’m not thinking. But it’s too late. My ass comes into contact with Odin’s groin and he audibly groans behind me. My heart flip-flops at the frustrated sound. I right myself and fumble with the keys again, inserting them into the lock.

But I can’t turn it. I’m too distracted by what’s happening behind me.

Odin closes the gap between us, pressing his body to mine, caging me against the door. His hands come to my hips, fingers grasping for purchase. I hear him breathe deeply, inhaling my scent.

My chest explodes with an unfamiliar sensation, and I’m dumped into a pool of wanton desires that has no edges to cling to. In the darkness, he could be anyone. He could be my savior instead of my captor. My friend instead of my foe. I could lean into him right now and pretend it was all a dream.

“When we get inside, we’re going to bed, right?” I ask, practically panting.

Odin curls around me, bringing his chin to the sensitive place beneath my jaw. His breath strokes my cheek and the smell of his favorite whiskey is enough to make my knees wobble.

“I was going to, but you had to wear that dress and spray that fucking perfume all over your skin. ”

“You bought me this dress,” I remind him.

“And I choose exceptionally well. I could barely function at dinner.”

One of his arms snakes around my front, fingers spreading over my lower stomach, while the other grabs my thigh and squeezes to the point of pain. My spine arches into him, grinding my ass against his swollen groin. My head tilts to give him more access to my neck.

I struggle to speak around the lack of oxygen in my lungs. “Maybe we should just, you know, get it—”

“Don’t you dare say get it out of our systems,” he snaps, gripping me tighter.

I try to look at him over my shoulder, but he presses me harder against the door. “Why not? You said I could be with other people if I wanted to.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” He finds my wrists and binds them together in one of his hands, then drags them above my head so I’m well and truly at his mercy.

I should hate this—being trapped by a man who could ruin my life in an instant. But his rapid heart beat betrays what both of us are unwilling to voice. That our attraction to one another is overriding all logic. All morals. I shouldn’t be so weak as to desire his touch and his alone.

But I do and fuck… I want to let go and give in. I want him to ruin me and hold me. Break me and protect me. I want to bend to his will.

I want what only he can provide. My damnation .

“I haven’t been this close to possessive in over a decade.” The statement is a knife to the heart, quickly followed by the spread of a balm that heals instantly. To be anything to him when he has already loved and lost satisfies me in a way I could never describe.

His jaw scrapes along my skin, bringing me back to my body, causing the most delicious friction. My breathing spikes, my lower body heats to the point of agony, begging for anything to relieve it. My brain is a riot of need.

Touch me. Spread me wide. Finger me right here, right now.

His hips buck and I almost demand he lift my dress and fuck me out in the open. This African adventure has done the opposite of tame us. It has unleashed us.

“Let me make you feel good. Better than any cold shower ever could.”

I moan like a feline in heat. “ Please. ”

His free hand slithers down my stomach until he finds the space between my thighs. He palms me roughly through my silk dress, and my vision goes haywire. I’m well and truly lost to the primal edges of my mind. He explores me with his strong fingers, cupping and stroking and circling until I can’t take it any longer.

Odin finds my clit with ease and starts rubbing the material in slow arcs. I start writhing underneath him, devastated by the power of his touch and moaning so loudly that I’m sure it’ll bring a whole herd of mating animals stampeding our way.

He maintains the perfect rhythm, the perfect pressure, but I want more. I jerk my hips and squeeze his hand so he can’t pull away. He chuckles against my skin and I almost die.

“Odin,” I whine, my orgasm building with impressive speed. “Take my dress off.”

“No. I’m not into exhibitionism.”

The hand holding my wrists releases and takes the place of the one between my thighs. I’m so wet that his fingers slip and curl and tease. He twists the lock on the door and opens it enough that I won’t go tumbling through. He spins me around, shoves the dress up to my waist, and lifts me. I wrap my legs around him like a vise, almost grinding my clit into his belt so I don’t lose momentum. I want to plant kisses to his neck, suckle on his hot skin, but I stop myself just in time.

Odin strides into the room, his hands tight on my ass. My heart leaps with excitement when I see the bed. I can only imagine how good this is going to be.

Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to find out.

He stops. Everything about him turns rock hard. And not in a fun way.

“Odin? What is it?” He puts me down, shoving me behind him. Resuming the role of my protector instead of my lover. He reaches for the gun in his waistband and points it at the bed.

I’m so confused, still dizzy from our almost coupling, that I don’t notice the simple thing that has him so riled until he’s reaching for it.

It’s an envelope. White and clean, with a red wax stamp on the back.

Before he opens it, he takes his phone from his pocket and calls Dom.

“We have a situation,” he says.

“On our way.”

I lay my hands on his shoulder and lean around him so I can watch as he opens the envelope and retrieves the letter. In cursive, almost beautiful, handwriting is a message addressed to me.

Dear Harriet,

I hope you are enjoying the safari. I have sent you a bottle of whiskey, since you finished the first so quickly.

Looking forward to the impending nuptials.

Say hello to Odin for me.

From Cerbera.

My stomach drops.

Oh fuck.