Page 41 of Unfettered

I drop my gaze, unable to look at him in case he sees the shame inside me. I hate to beg, but I will. I don’t know how to be anything other than this…and the fear that the Council will take it away is strong. I found baking to be soothing, but I admit, the more I’m in the field, the more I realize just how much this life runs in my blood.

I jolt at the fingers digging into my skin as Tennant grips my chin, forcing me to look up. “Sweet Boy, you are in no danger of losing your spot here. But I will not stand for you to be insulted. Not when you offer a wealth of knowledge, and not when I know you’d throw your life on the line for any of us. What happened in the past is done and over with. You are actively getting help, and that counts. You have to let go of the guilt, and if I need to kick some asses to make sure you aren’t suffering from stupidity… I don’t mind at all.”

Before I can raise any complaints, he crushes his lips against mine, and I immediately melt into him, letting him control my movements. It’s a heady sensation, knowing I can give him my worries and he won’t blame me. But fuck if I’ll ever get used to it.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, stroking my cheek tenderly. For a moment, we stand there, our breaths perfectly in sync as we soak up this feeling between us. Among the smells of the torture chamber, and with a bloody hammer still clutched in my hand, the bloom of what I can only call love unfurls, and isn’t that perfect for us. A psychopath Daddy and an ex-mafia leader… I almost laugh, but can’t break the spell Tennant has on me.

With a sigh, he finally pulls back, but not before brushing a kiss against my forehead, causing me shiver. His smirk says it all. He knows exactly how sexy that move is dammit. He whirls around impatiently, taking out his gun casually before sending me a wink over his shoulder as he shoots without watching. It’s still a perfectly done shot, right in the middle of the forehead.

I giggle, the freedom almost choking me. The wide smile on Tennant’s face relaxes me, and after I set the hammer where he instructs, so that it’ll get cleaned, I let him lead me out of the torture chamber. I carefully don't meet any of the guard’s eyes. I don’t want to see their hatred, not when I can celebrate the love I’m being showered with right now.

Ilook at myself in the mirror, fiddling with the hem of my new skirt. When Lio and I were online shopping a few weeks ago, we both added different styles of clothing to the cart that went against what we’re used to wearing. He encouraged me to go for blouses and skirts that are more feminine, and fit me differently than what I’m used to.

“You’re beautiful, Love,” he says as he wraps his arms around me.

“But is it appropriate?” I ask, worried about what Connor is going to think.

“Who cares? You’re a Council member, you can wear what you damn well please. Connor isn’t going to judge you for what you’re wearing, I promise.”

Looking back in the mirror, I try to see what he does. The light-pink skirt complements my skin tone in a way I never thought about before, showing off my long legs as it stops midway up my thighs. The lace and ruffles are delicate and dainty, making me look innocent.

The white top I’m wearing is form fitting, the hem coming just to the waistband of my skirt. The lace trim on the hem and neckline add to the illusion that I’m nothing more than a femme twink.

It’s not an everyday outfit. I’m far more comfortable in my pleated skirts that hit my knees and my dress shirts, but the way Lio is looking at me, his eyes wide and full of lust and love… Yeah, I can be persuaded to dress up more on occasion.

Reaching up, I fiddle with my hair, trying and failing to get the waves to cooperate, but the too-long strands want to fall across my forehead.

“Stop it,” he says gently, turning me and taking my hands in his. “You’re perfect.”

Lio leans in and kisses me softly, the taste of him so familiar, yet new at the same time. “Come on, you don’t want to be late.”

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He doesn’t look as if he believes me, but takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom anyway.

I try to focus on my hand in Lio’s, the sound of my new shoes hitting the floor—neither my dress shoes or my boots would go with this outfit, so the white ballet flats were another “must have” purchase—desperately trying to ignore the way my heart races, and my breathing speeds up, with every step we get closer to Connor’s office.

Lio squeezes my hand when we stop outside his door. As much as I want him to be the one to knock, I know why he can’t. This journey is mine. Lio may be here to hold my hand and walk the path with me, but I’m the one who has to lead the way.

I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life, but I knock, softly at first, and then give it a real knock. There’s barely a second between my second knock and Connor’s “Come in,” but it’s a second full of anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, I tighten my grip on Lio and open the door, not thinking too hard about what I’m doing as I cross the threshold, dragging my best friend, my lifeline, along with me.

I look everywhere except at Connor at first, impressed by the tasteful decor of the office. There’s a desk in the corner, dark wood and imposing, bracketed by bookshelves that are bursting.

The walls have gone from a sterile white to a soft pink color, which is a surprise, but paired with the cream-colored couch and matching soft pink plush armchairs in a cluster on one side of the room, it works.

One of the walls is half covered by a corkboard, with various crayon drawings and watercolor paintings pinned to it. Each piece of artwork varies in skill-level, leading me to believe they were created by different people. A warm, funny sensation builds in my chest when I look at them, so I turn my attention to the white and dark pink rug covering the floor of the seating area.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Connor says softly as he sits in a chair across from the couch.

My breath catches when I meet his eyes. His expression is soft, open, and non-judgmental, despite how long it took me to get this far.

“Lio stays with me,” I tell him.

He nods. “Of course. I’m more than happy to have him sit in with us if that makes you more comfortable. Would you like to take a seat?”

Letting out a shaky breath, I make my way across the room and sit on the couch, pressing myself against Lio as he sits besides me. I’m very thankful my Love is so generous and doesn’t balk from my affection, even though I know it’s hard for him. I’m not sure I could do this if I didn’t have him close.