The House of the Wicked (The snake and the raven #1)

8. August

August

i thought this was a date

S he’s done everything in her power to avoid me today. When my shift finally ends, I grin—it’s Thursday. The house is empty and after handing over to the night shift team; I stroll back into the house. Dima’s out and Ricky’s doing whatever the fuck Ricky does in the city every Thursday. Turning the handle on the front door, my feet freeze before my brain catches up. The house has been empty all day, naturally; I expected that to be the case now. But there she is, sitting on the staircase that leads to the loft, the loft she’s spent all day cloistered in.

“Hey,” she says, watching me as intensely as I’m watching her.

Finally, my brain kick starts back to life and I creep forward slightly, moving further into the hallway. Nudging the front door shut, I smile. “Hey.” She looks sad. Why?

“Is your shift over?” she asks.

Dragging my hand over the back of my neck before taking another step toward her. “Yeah, I was about to head out. Are you alone?” It took a bit of effort, but Sebastian’s not assigned to any night shifts on a Thursday. I want t o tell her, but also don’t want to assume she knows about his behavior. If she doesn’t, I’d be creating unnecessary paranoia.

“It’s Thursday.” She shrugs. “Dima’s out on a date and Ricky’s off in the city doing God knows what.”

“A date?” I choke out a laugh. Dima’s a minute to seventy.

Nora cringes, and I laugh again. “Yeah,” she says. “She goes on dates every Thursday. As far as I know, they’re always with a different guy, too. I don’t know where she finds them, but I’m jealous. How does a 60-something-year-old have a better sex life than me?” She smiles as she offhandedly throws the question at me.

I shiver at the mental picture. “That’s enough about Dima’s sex life, I think,” I say. “I don’t need the mental picture haunting my nightmares.”

Then it’s Nora’s turn to laugh, soft and melodic, twisting something inside my chest. I’ve always been a sucker for wounded women. She’s no different. Sitting on the stairs in this empty mansion. I feel... I just feel . It’s new to me. I haven’t felt anything for so long.

“So, dinner. I actually came to find out if you were planning to order takeout.” She looks at me, confusion darkening her eyes. “So I can let the guards outside know,” I clarify.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Yeah, probably, maybe. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

My eyes drift to my watch. “It’s almost seven PM, which is way past dinner for most people.” The smile I offer her is soft and patient. Two things I’ve never been before.

“I better get on that pizza order then,” she says, but she doesn’t move from her spot on the staircase.

“O kay, well…” I hover. I hate hovering. “I should go,” I say, gesturing to the front door, before slowly turning to leave.

“Wait.” I stop, facing her again. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask, um.” She stands, taking one step down, one step closer to me. “Is Bassey on duty tonight?”

Rage burns through me—she knows. “No. He’s been moved off all night shifts, specifically Thursdays.” I say, offering no further explanation.

Nora almost sags against the banister. Relief?

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I echo, before turning around once again. There are four steps between me and the front door. Four steps, that’s all I have to take to get the fuck out of the house.

One.

Two.

Three.

I stop. I can reach out and touch the handle of the front door. I don’t even need the fourth step. So why haven’t I moved? Why am I standing here, in the soft glow of the hallway?

I shouldn’t do this. Every instinct inside of me rages against this stupid-as-fuck idea. But I can’t stop myself. Like watching a train wreck happen in front of me, my sense of logic takes a back seat and I turn. I’m about to cross a line, but I’ve never been great at staying within the lines.

Facing her again, I take one step away from the door, moving back toward her again. “I was about to grab some takeout for dinner, down at the harbor. If you don’t feel like pizza, you could join me? If you want?”

I watch in rapt fascination as her face changes, the sadness almost instantly melting away. In it s place, a light I’m not ready to examine; not happiness, not exactly, but something close to it.

Her smile—I’m not sure if it’s the offer of a shared dinner or simply the opportunity to get out of the house—but that smile undoes me. And instantly, I decide I don’t care what the reason is. I want to see that smile on her face again.

“I need to get changed, but yes. I would love to grab dinner at the harbor with you.” Only now, noticing the Power Puff girl pajamas, I smirk.

“You go do that. I’ll wait for you here.”

What the fuck am I doing? The question plays on a loop in my mind as she hurries up the staircase, disappearing into the loft.

This is a mistake. Yves and Alley’s voices roar inside my head —'fucking mistake’ . I’m not here to get close to Nora, even if her lips do feel like heaven, even if she has an ass that stalks my dreams, even if all the broken pieces of her are like a magnet, calling out to all the broken pieces of me.

She appears at the top of the staircase a few minutes later. Black leggings wrapped around her legs; I can only stare as she descends the staircase. Have I ever seen a more perfect pair of legs? Her shapely calves are strong, but her thighs are round and soft, curved at her hips. It’s torture because I don’t need to wonder. I know exactly how her body feels in my hands. And I hunger to know more, to know how she’ll feel beneath me.

“I have my bike,” I blurt out. “I mean, we might have to take your car, because I came to work on my bike.”

“Like a bicycle?” she asks, scrunching her face up in concern.

“What?” I laugh awkwardly. “No, like a Royal Enfield Super Meteor.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.” She smiles as I open the front door for her.

We step outside and my hands land on her hips, gently turning her toward the black cruiser. “That’s what that means,” I murmur as she stops in front of the motorcycle.

“Oh, shit.” She turns to look at me, apprehension and excitement dancing in her eyes. “I’ve never been on a bike before.”

“I have a spare helmet.” Opening the back storage compartment, I pull the helmet out. “Here.” Offering it to her, amusement tugs at the corners of my mouth as she tries and fails to fasten the clip on the vintage half helmet. “Wait,” I say before stepping into her space and crouching down so my face is level with hers. My fingers move quickly to fasten the clasp, tightening the straps that hold the helmet on her head. “There. Can't be too safe.” I boop her nose before my hands crawl down her shoulders, over the black fabric of the oversized sweater she’s wearing. I look down.

“Is that—?” I start before stepping closer. “Nora,” I whisper as my eyes land on hers. “Did you steal my sweater?”

I’d been so fixated on her thighs I didn’t notice the sweater—the same sweater I spent weeks looking for.

“You left it here after that first night. When you stayed for dinner?” She shrugs. “I thought you didn’t want it.”

“And you never thought to maybe, you know… ask?” She looks fucking adorable in it.

“I mean, I guess I could have, but it's so cozy.”

“I—” Shaking my head, deciding to drop it. I want to know how often she’s worn it, what she wears under it. I want to know if it still smells like me and if that’s a smell she likes. But fuck, these aren’t questions I have any business thinking about, never mind asking. “Come on,” I say before climbing on the bike. “Get on, put your legs here.” I point at the footrests.

“What do I hold on to?” she asks, chewing her lip as she takes in the bike.

Pulling my helmet on, a grin splits my face as I wink at her over my shoulder. “You hold on to me, little raven.”

My hips and ass are nestled in the cradle of her perfect fucking thighs when the bike roars to life beneath us. She shivers against the vibration of the engine before her arms finally snake around my waist. Weak, I’m a weak piece of shit because the second I feel that shiver, I place my hand over hers and brush my thumb against the inside of her wrist.

W e’re on the road, and I do my best to go as slowly as possible, mindful of the fact that this is the first time she’s been on a motorbike. But every time I speed up, she presses her hips against my ass and holds on even tighter. And fuck if that isn’t the most addictive feeling in the entire world.

The amber traffic light changes to red and when the bike stops, I lace my fingers through hers and squeeze gently. It’s dangerous. Something about touching her makes me crave more. I want every part of her, to kiss and fuck my way into her body until she forgets there was ever anyone before me. It’s irrational but when she rests her head against my back—almost sinking into my body—I give myself over to the feeling, to wanting her. Like that first night in the gallery, I slip into a bubble where it’s just me and her. The red light burns brightly in front of us. My eyes are glued to it as I wait for it to turn green, but inside, in every part of me, I’m lost in the idea of Nora. I’m lost in a fictional world where our kiss outside the gallery led to more, where it led to us.

But there’s no ‘us’ in this world. And even though here, on the back of my bike, it feels like maybe there could be, our reality is impossible to escape.

We arrive at the harbor too quickly. Restaurant lights invade my thoughts, the fantasy evaporating as I turn off the ignition and help Nora off the back of my bike.

“Lobster rolls?” I ask.

“Sounds great,” she says, handing me back the helmet.

After securing them to the bike, I lead her to the food truck I spend most of my time at.

“Hey Alfie.” I smile at the guy behind the counter.

“August! Man, you brought a girl?” He winks at Nora and I smother the sting of jealousy that surges inside of me when she smiles at him.

“Two rolls, and a beer for me.” I turn to Nora, waiting for her drink order.

“I’ll take a beer too,” she says.

We sit down at one of the wooden picnic tables in front of the food truck. The string of bistro lights illuminating the space makes her look angelic. God, I’m losing my fucking mind.

Alfie drops two cold beers off at our table before moving on to serve other customers.

“So, you were in the military?” she asks, and I nod. I take it for what it is, a low effort question that’s safe enough to diffuse the tension between us.

“I was. For six years,” I offer.

“T hat’s crazy. All those rules for all those years.” She blows out a breath, seeming to consider what that might’ve been like.

“I like rules, Nora,” I say. “You don’t.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“The sneaking out for one.” I laugh. She grins at me, the silence stretching between us again. Both of us are comfortable to let it grow until I’m not. “Are we gonna talk about it?” I ask, quietly, clearly referring to the pool. I don’t feel like I need to clarify, not after she spent the entire day hiding in her room.

“No, we probably never will.” She sighs, looking around the bustling space.

“Were you trying to…” I let my words trail off; I can’t bring myself to say it.

“Kill myself?” She finishes for me. I nod stiffly.

“No. Never.” She twists her fingers together. I watch her knuckles turn red, then white, before placing my hand over them, stilling her.

“That first day, when you saw me in Ricky’s office, you made it seem like your life was shallow—nail appointments and art galleries and the beach. Why?”

My eyes are glued to her, every movement she makes, the way she picks up the beer bottle, the short black nails that wrap around the neck, the bob of her throat as she swallows a sip. I note all of it.

After setting the bottle back down, she looks at me. “Sometimes it’s just easier to lean into what people already think about me. Changing their minds takes a lot of work and most people aren’t worth the effort. So, I don’t mind if they don’t see me.”

“I see you,” I murmur. Her eyes shoot to mine.

“What do you see?”

I wa tch her for a few seconds before answering. “Someone who’s seldom alone but often lonely,” I say, honestly.

Alfie chooses that moment to arrive with our rolls. Setting them down on the wooden table, he quickly explains the different dipping sauces to Nora before disappearing again. She takes a bite of the lobster and closes her eyes. The most incredible sound—a moan so fucking intoxicating—slips from between her lips. I clear my throat and take a bite.

“Why didn’t you call your friends to go out for dinner tonight?” I question around a mouthful of lobster roll.

“Because I only have two friends and they're in love with each other and out on a date tonight.”

“And you’re not out on a date because…” I wait for her answer.

She beams before looking around. “Well, this is fucking awkward, August,” she says, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I thought this was a date?” I laugh—genuinely and completely—for the first time in God knows how long. “But seriously,” she goes on. “I’m not allowed to date.”

She shovels the last mouthful of lobster roll between her perfect lips before I ask, “How do you feel about that? Not being allowed to date?”

“Honestly?” she raises her brows. I nod in answer. “It never used to bother me, but I’m finding that a lot of things that never used to bother me are now completely unbearable.”

“And dating is one of those things?”

“Dating, fucking, kissing, love, safety, trust…companionship… I want it all. But it feels so out of my reach. I live in a world of restrictions, August. You know that; it’s your job to enforce them.” She sighs before looking up at me. “What about you? Why aren’t you out on a date?”

“Honestly?” I raise my brows, mimicking her earlier expression; she nods. “I don’t have time to date. At least that’s what I’ve always told myself. You see, I’m forced to spend all my time with this woman who drags me around the city to vintage clothing stores and pap smear appointments and the weird thing is, she’s the first person in years that I’ve wanted to date but she’s probably the only person in this entire fucking city I can never touch.”

Silence ripples around us, cocooning us in stillness as she stares at me. I stare right back. She lifts the napkin and dabs at the nonexistent food at the corners of her mouth.

“That sucks.” The words leave her in a husky whisper that goes straight to my dick.

“It definitely does,” I agree.

“August, I—” I cut her off immediately. Whatever she’s going to say next will probably end in a world of trouble for both of us.

“We should get going. It’s getting pretty late, and I don’t want the other guards to get any ideas about what’s going on here,” I say.

It’s fucking cold and leaves me feeling like a massive dick, but this is a risk neither of us can take. Nora, my role in the house, my mission… Nothing can jeopardize my goals, and she’s central to me achieving them. I cannot fuck this up, and fucking her will absolutely fuck everything up … Catastrophically.