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THE CLAIMING
CRISTINA
Tiki moved here from America. When I told her I’d never had sex, she didn’t believe me. She couldn’t believe twenty-eight-year-old virgins existed. But I explained how I grew up on an island with Father Thomas looking over me and at me.
I never got to thank the boy who broke Father’s nose, but I’m fairly certain I have him to thank for Father Thomas never touching me. Hence, I grew up protected from groping men, and I learned early on that the attention of a man made me feel gross. I didn’t like feeling gross, so I avoided it.
Until three years ago, when I visited Hungary for a cooking convention and ended up in bed with a gorgeous German man who slid his tongue between my legs, but couldn’t complete the evening’s shenanigans because we were also getting high. Apparently, smoking marijuana made his penis soggy.
Or at least that was what he claimed.
Given his interest in another girl the very next evening, I regret nothing other than the effort I spent that year losing some weight, trying to build my confidence back so I could slip into the bathing suit again and flirt with tourists. I didn’t like any ofthe tourists I met, so that was a waste. I gained back the weight I lost and added two more kilos for good measure.
“It’s my first time,” I whisper.
“Don’t worry,” Gordon says. “I’ll numb you.”
Severio sits with an elbow on the bar, thumb absentmindedly tracing his bottom lip. His blue eyes give away nothing, but they’re slightly narrowed, his head tilted as if in confusion.
“I’ve never heard of numbing before. Is it a kink?” Maybe a fetish?
Gordon’s tenor voice booms from right behind me, and I tense as I feel his breath on the back of my neck and something cold like gel between my shoulder blades.
“I don’t know what you think we’re gonna be doing, little one,” Gordon says, “but I’m here to tattoo a serpent around your neck and then get on with my night.”
My breath catches. My heart skips a beat. Hope blossoms in my soul. “Is that true?” I ask Severio.
“Yes.”
“He will not claim me as in…you know,claimme?”
Understanding of what I thought we’d be doing shows on Severio’s shocked face. “Most definitely not.”
The perpetual weight of my worries and terror slides off my back, and my soul soars. I throw myself at Severio and hug him tightly, so tightly I think I might smother him. He smells of bergamot with a hint of lavender. Combined with mercy, it’s a great scent for him.
“Thank you. Oh my God, thank you.”
“It was never an idea I entertained,” he says. “No need to thank me.”
The rigidity of his body tells me I overstepped boundaries when I hugged him. He’s not a panda bear. Panthers don’t hug unless you’re invited into their space for mating. And Severio wouldn’t invite me for mating, that’s for damn sure.
When I try to retreat, his palm presses into the small of my back and stops me. Severio yanks my dress back up and closes the zipper with violent speed before he pushes me away with a hand on my hip. Gordon can access the area he needs to tattoo with my dress on since the top is only a corset.
I sit on the chair with renewed purpose. It’s as if he’s allowed me to live. He has. I don’t know what version of me would’ve returned home tonight, even though I prepared for the claiming. I kept telling myself it was a one-night stand.
“Sorry about the hug,” I tell him.
Severio nods. “Don’t mention it. Can we get started now?”
I nod and reach for the glass of wine he offered me. I swirl the cabernet, bring it to my nose, and inhale.
“Tell me,” Severio says, leaving me to guess what he wants me to tell him.
“Blackberry, a hint of plum. Oak. No vanilla.”
Behind me, Gordon chuckles. “No vanilla.”
Severio ignores him and swipes a thumb over his lower lip before licking it.
