Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

31. Etta

31

Etta

‘Butterflies’ - Kacey Musgraves

T he morning sun beats against my cheek and warm lips press to my neck, encouraging me to wake. Groaning, I lift my arms and hold that delicious presence to me, forcing them to continue. A deep chuckle rumbles as I dig my fingers into the tough body, my lower stomach springing to attention.

My lashes flutter, revealing a glimpse of Odin’s ear and neck and shoulders. The front of him is buried in my neck, his chest flattening against my soft breasts.

“Morning,” I moan, opening my legs to allow his lower body to fit better. Flush with mine. Odin’s hands grip onto my waist as his hips buck just a tad.

He smothers me with his weight. Pressing me deeper into the sheets. I cling to him as he continues to press his lips to my neck, trailing sweet lines of ecstasy over my collarbones.

I’m a puddle of steaming toffee as Odin caresses me, winding my body up till I’m damp between my thighs. I think for a moment his hands might travel to that spot, he might press his thumb to my clit and make me come in a matter of seconds. What a wonderful start to my morning.

But he pulls away from me and leans back. My nails scratch his skin. They’re so tightly curled into him. He hovers above me, close but not touching. Our breath mingles in the air and his scent captivates me, infusing me with a ferocious wave of desire that did not abate at all last night in the car. If anything, it’s made it worse because I know how good it is. How good we are.

I smile when I see his eyepatch is still gone. It’s hard to resist the temptation to kiss him right on his scar.

“Morning,” he says, low and rough.

“Can you wake me up like this all the time?” I ask, breathy and star-struck.

Odin smirks. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

Placing his hands on either side of my head, Odin peels himself off me. Instantly, I’m shivering and reaching for the sheets. “Breakfast is ready.”

Breakfast is between my legs , I want to say, but Juniper takes that as her cue to jump on the bed and worm her way between our bodies. “Juniper!” I screech with laughter when she steps all over my stomach. Odin moves out of the way as I shove Juniper off the bed. She trots out of the room, tail wagging happily, clearly pleased with herself. If she’s going to cock block me, then I’m sending her to Martise’s room.

“I’m coming,” I moan, throwing the sheets off my body and striding out of the bedroom. My stomach growls when I see the impressive breakfast spread on offer, but a familiar sound coming from my right overpowers my hunger. “Is that…? ”

On the couch, Ford sits like the fucking Godfather, stroking the ginger kitten I found last night on its tiny head. The image of the two of them together makes me burst out into laughter. The kitten is so small it fits in Ford’s large palm, surrounded by bulging muscle. I glance over to Odin. He just shrugs and continues drinking his coffee.

“I’ve decided to name him Romeo,” Ford announces. “I will take no objections.”

I approach the couch, my feet propelling me across the room. God, I love kittens. “Romeo sounds wonderful,” I say and take a seat next to Ford. He passes me Romeo, who doesn’t seem to be happy about being separated from his knight in shining armor. But once I start to pet him and calm him with my voice, he purrs softly. The sound is so welcome I fight back tears.

Ford stands. “Dom wants to see you this afternoon,” he says to Odin. “Wedding prep.”

“What about me?” I ask.

“No, no,” He waves his hand. “The bride is to spend today relaxing. Martise is coming over to stay with you.”

My heart sinks when I think of Odin being away from me. Last night, I secured my attachment to him. I hate that it’s being tested so soon. I glance in his direction again, take the time to ogle at the way the morning light highlights his handsome frame. The sleek lines of his torso, the bulge of his biceps, and the straight curve of his jaw have me salivating. God. Is this what it’s like? Being obsessed with someone?

“Do I have something on my face?” Odin asks me, his brows raised in amusement.

Ford jumps in before I can answer. “Yeah, your cock.” He strides past me as I chuckle on the couch. “Don’t be late. Dom is not in the mood.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Odin retorts.

Ford reaches the door, opens it and steps out, only to pause and stick his head back through. “Romeo likes his milk warm, but not too hot, and loves to sleep under your neck. You upset him, I will know about it.” He exits swiftly, his warning noted.

“He’s all yours, Dr. Lewis.” Odin mutters.

I stand, keeping Romeo in my grip. “I accept the challenge.” Odin gestures for me to eat some breakfast and I can’t refuse him. I grab the milk replacer from the bag of items Ford left and prepare it for Romeo’s liking. While he drinks, I get comfortable at the table and start to eat my fill.

Odin passes me a coffee and takes a seat opposite me. “Why the long face?”

“I liked getting to know you last night.”

“Physically?” he asks, the smirk on his face delightfully wicked.

My cheeks heat. “Well, yes. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“But I thought today we could—I don’t know—get to know each other more. You know, boyfriend and girlfriend type stuff?”

Odin hums. “I have some time before I have to see Dom. So, what do you want to know?”

I contemplate the question for a second. “Tell me a secret about yourself.”

“Only if you go first.”

Heart thumping, I sort through the many secrets that I keep locked and hidden away. There are too many juicy ones to choose from, but I settle on a story that I tell often. “My very first set of exams at college, I was high as a kite. I took a brownie from my roommate’s mini fridge, thinking it would give me an energy boost, since I spent the whole night studying and didn’t sleep. Unfortunately, I was horribly wrong.” I chuckle. “I still passed, though. I’m quite proud of that.” I take a sip of coffee. “And yours?”

Cool, calm, and casual, Odin surprises me by saying, “I wanted to be a paleontologist.”

My face breaks out into a surprised grin. “Really? What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“Triceratops.”

“Of course,” I nod. “Sam Neil or Jeff Goldblum?”

“Goldblum,” he replies, smirking big enough that his dimples appear.

“I’m sure you’d have to fight Ford for him.”

“No. He’d be more into Samuel L. Jackson.” I laugh. Odin does, too. It’s so simple and over in less than a second, but now I crave it more than I crave sustenance.

“Why paleontology?” I ask.

“The house I grew up in was well decorated. Expensive artworks, sculptures and furniture. But there was this one display that always caught my attention. It was a flat piece of rock—a trace fossil—that had the single footprint of a stegosaurus imprinted into the center of it. I looked at it every day, sometimes for hours.”

“Why did you like it so much?”

Odin thinks for a beat. “I liked the story it told. I liked that it was real evidence for a living creature that was millions of years old. It was epic and infinitely simple, too. Just a footprint at the time, but something monumental today. I used to spend hours researching paleontology and archeology. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t even concentrate at school because I was too busy drawing dinosaurs and learning all the bones in their bodies.”

I understand that. That constant, ferocious need to understand the working world. To learn everything I could until my brain exploded. To find the thing in life that gives you purpose and hold on to it with two tightly clasped hands.

“You didn’t want to pursue it as a career?” I ask.

“I was persuaded to do something else. Something concrete and secure. Not fantastical.”

“That’s such a shame.”

“It was. Tell me another of yours,” he says, passing me a plate of food I didn’t even see. I pick up one of the rounded pieces of bread with goat’s cheese, dried fig and honey drizzled on top.

Instead of giving him a secret, I grab the speaker I spotted earlier near the TV console. “Can I put something on?” He nods and hands me his phone. Quickly, I look up Golden Hour and put the album on. No shuffling.

The acoustic strings that open Slow Burn fill the dining room, sending a warm rush through my stomach. I really hope he doesn’t hate it. If he did, I’d have to run away again.

Kacey’s voice comes to life, her country twang soothing and beautiful. An image of my mother surfaces alongside it. She’s in the back office at the clinic, legs outstretched, sitting on the rolling office chair. Her eyes are closed, her hands resting on her belly. She’s so tired I can see the bags under her eyes, but she doesn’t ask for a break. She spends some time resting, listening to music that calms her, and then she hits pause and heads back out into reception.

She was the hardest working, most compassionate woman I’ve ever known.

Odin listens, sipping his coffee, watching me. Toward the chorus, I say, “This is my favorite album of all time.” Smiling, I keep listening to the song, tapping my feet to the even beat.

“It’s very… calming,” he says.

“It is,” I nod. “My mom and I used to put it on whenever we had a bad day at the clinic. This is the first time I’ve listened to it since she died.” We both fall quiet and listen to the first song bleed into the second.

I’m so lost in my own mind, so caught up in the emotions stirring inside my chest that I don’t notice Odin’s hand until it’s touching mine. “She would be proud of you. Clinic or no clinic. You aren’t a failure, you never have been.”

I’m so startled by his words that I forget to breathe.

A knock sounds at the door, breaking the spell. “That’ll be Dom,” he says and releases my hand. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He presses a tiny kiss to my head and then makes his way to the door. Once it clicks, the lock shutting tight, I wipe my eyes and shake my shoulders.

I know she’s proud . I think. But more importantly, I’m sure Gen’s proud of him, too .

Martise and I find ways to entertain ourselves all afternoon. Although the impending wedding is terrifying, especially knowing I’ll be in the same room as Cerbera again, we busy ourselves by practicing makeup, watching movies, and eating large amounts of sugar and carbs.

But as the afternoon draws near, I’m ready for Odin to come back. I want to talk to him about his plans for controlling the Lombardos because, for some reason, it doesn’t sit right with me. The dangers, so far, seem to be outweighing the benefits. I want to dive into his brain, hear more about what he wants to achieve. If I’m going to be his wife in this twisted world, then I want to be unified in our goal, not some prize piece he keeps locked up on the side.

I know he has fears about losing me, like he lost Gen, but we can’t be constantly stressed about safety every minute of every day. I can’t live like that. I need space. I need freedom. I need trust.

“How are you feeling?” Martise asks me, clearly sensing my internal battle. She tried asking the same question when she first arrived, but I dodged it quickly.

A heavy sigh releases from my chest. “I’m scared.”

“Is it the marriage or the man?”

“It’s not the man. I’m not scared of Odin.” Far from it . “I’m scared that he’s trying to do the right thing the wrong way. I mean, how do you know this is going to work? How does he know that Cerbera is just going to bow down and let him take the lead?”

“The law ignores those types of people because they’re constant. They’re always there, always causing havoc. It’s like catching rain in your hands, trying to bring them to justice. Some of them land in your palm, others slip through your fingers and make a mess.” A crease appears between her brows, her lips thinning with worry. “I have the same reservations you do. I don’t see this ending happily for anyone. It’s just a matter of when and how. Odin wants the Lombardos under his thumb. He wants full control. But I fear that is the last thing he should be doing. He should be living, not throwing away his life.”

“How can I convince him otherwise? We still barely know each other. He’s been wanting revenge for so long.”

“He has,” she agrees. She looks at me intently, her brown eyes a light with emotion. “I think he has been so focused on his plan, no matter the consequences to his own life, because he never imagined he would feel anything close to what he felt for Gen.”

My throat thickens.

“I sense him wavering,” she continues. “I sense his affection toward you and vice versa. It will change everything if you two decide to care for each other.”

Too late. I care too much already.

“You need to keep scraping away the mortar he used to cover all his cracks. You need to show him there is life outside of pain and vengeance. You need to show him he can live a different life, a better life.”

I drop my chin, my breath stuttering in my lungs. “I’ll try.”

Martise smiles. “You are sunshine, Etta Lewis, and he has been in the shadows for too long. He will come to you. I know he will.”

“Martise,” I groan. “I really don’t want to cry right now.” I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “Thank you for being here with me. Thank you for being a friend when I really needed one.”

“You are stuck with me now,” she squeezes back. “I very much enjoy your company and don’t plan on letting Odin steal you away from me.”

We’re both chuckling as the door to the hotel room opens. Dom strides in carrying grocery bags, Ford right on his heel.

My heart trips over itself when I notice Odin behind them, almost across the threshold. But he doesn’t make it to me. Ford turns and puts a hand on his chest, stopping him from entering.

“Hey!” I tease.

“What are you doing?” Odin asks Ford, his eye flicking to mine. He’s not happy being kept out. I’m not either.

“Girls and gays only. No straight boys allowed,” Ford declares.

I want to laugh, but the dejected look on Odin’s face ruins me. “He really can’t stay?” I whine, smacking Ford on the back.

“No. It’s tradition,” Ford states. “And it will make tomorrow all the more sweet.” He turns and winks at me. I roll my eyes and try to sidestep him. He blocks me from leaving the room to go to Odin. It frustrates me, but I know Ford is only trying to lighten the mood.

From over Ford’s shoulder, I see Odin standing like a lost child. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

“I’ll be the one in white.”

My husband. That man is going to be my husband.

“And Odin will be the one with blue balls,” Ford shouts and pushes me away. “Let’s make some cocktails!”

Dom takes our place in the doorway. “The second bedroom in our room is free. You can stay there tonight.”

He nods stiffly, slipping his hands into his pockets. Then he turns and Dom closes the door.

My stomach drops to my feet.

Just like that? He’s gone and I won’t see him again till I’m walking down the aisle.

No. No, I don’t like that at all.

My feet propel me to the door, my heart leading the way.

“Etta?” Martise calls from across the room.

“Don’t go out there!” Ford shouts.

Dom smacks him on the arm. “Leave her alone.”

I raise my hands in apology, my fingers grabbing hold of the door handle. “Just give me one second,” I say and race out after him.