Page 34 of Between Passion and Revenge, Part One (The Griot Chronicles #1)

Do it, do it, do it! Yenn’s chanting in my brain gives me confidence.

“Yes. I’ll stay for dinner. Thank you for asking,” I reply.

Now it’s Storm’s smile that rivals the sun.

“Wonderful,” he says, breaking the hypnotic spell. “Mine’s Alexander, by the way.”

“Alexander,” I say, tasting the name on my tongue. “Storm Alexander Sandoval. Were your parents expecting you to be a war general or something?”

He pauses for a minute before tilting his head back and releasing a sound that I can only describe as a chortle.

“Something like that,” he says through his laughter. I find my smile growing involuntarily.

“Come,” he says. “It’s gonna be a bit before dinner’s ready. I’ll, uh, make the sides in a few.” He points toward his living room where the plush sofa sits next to a shorter loveseat and glass coffee table.

“Why do you sound scared?” I ask, still amused. He winces.

“I…really don’t cook. But the chicken marsala came with the ingredients to make mashed potatoes and julienned glazed carrots, so I think I can manage.”

I lower to the sofa and he goes to the entertainment system. Miguel’s Coffee begins to pipe through the wall speakers.

“I think,” he tacks on before sitting on the other end of the sofa.

“I’m sure we’ll survive,” I offer diplomatically. Just as Miguel hits the chorus and starts singing about coffee in the morning, we both begin to speak.

“Storm, I don’t really do this?—”

“Shae, will you go out with me?—”

We both stop, and he releases a soft chuckle while I take an embarrassed drink of my rapidly dwindling wine.

“I think what I was going to say, I’ve made perfectly clear over the past few weeks, so why don’t you go first.”

Shit.

Clearing my throat, I take the final glug of wine before putting my empty glass on the coffee table.

“Storm, what are we doing here?” I ask, moving my hand back and forth between our bodies.

“We’re getting to know each other, Shae,” he replies smoothly.

“To what end? So you can fuck me?” I almost slap my hands over my mouth.

The song changes and Storm appears contemplative.

“I won’t deny I want you in my bed, Shae.

” The words are a low rumble, headed straight to my core.

“But I want more than a quick fuck or two. I want to be with you. I want to court you. You know, I don’t mind having this conversation again, but just for the record, we have had this discussion before. ”

My cheeks heat as I cringe internally because I’m annoying my damn self. We’ve talked about this, and things should be straightforward after the Ferris wheel.

And after our moment outside Hansen’s class.

And after every single text he’s sent me every day, asking how my day went.

Still, here I am, making the man reassure me again. Who likes repeating themselves? He’s made his intentions perfectly clear. Multiple times, in fact.

I’m the one who’s tripping and can’t get my head out of my ass.

How does the oldies song go? Put up or shut the fuck up.

“Hey,” he says, breaking me out of my beratement. “I mean it. We can talk this through until it clicks for you. I can be patient. I know you thrive on logic.”

He looks so not stressed about the situation before us, and it has the opposite effect of calming me down.

“Okay, but what does that mean ?” I ask, exasperated and throwing my hands up in the air.

Storm smiles and moves closer.

“I haven’t introduced you to my best friend Riale, have I?” he asks.

I shake my head, not sure where he’s going with this.

“He’s eight years older than me, and I met him when my dad assigned him as my bodyguard.”

I quirk an eyebrow.

“You have a bodyguard?” I ask, and he grins.

“Nah, not anymore. When I was a kid though, after the accident….”

I set that point aside, wondering why his brother’s car accident would necessitate his need for personal security.

“Before I tell you about Riale, let me tell you about my parents. They have a weird relationship. They used to be close. I have memories of them dancing together at events, and they looked in love. Over the years, it’s as if they stopped being a couple and morphed into separate individuals.

It got really bad after Rainn died. It’s better now, but there were a lot of days when I’d see more heat between dead fish. ”

A sad expression crosses his face. His left arm rests on the back of the sofa, and he taps his index finger in a slow cadence that doesn’t match the tempo of the song playing over the speakers.

“When I was younger, I didn’t know something was off between my parents until I met Riale’s mom and dad.

Riale invited me to his home for Thanksgiving one year.

It was almost a year after Rainn had died .

Dad was in China at the time, and I was all alone in that goddamn mansion because Mom had run off for several weeks to grieve and heal.

It was the first time I had a panic attack. ”

He’d been looking at me up until now, and when he confesses this thing that I know he sees as a flaw, he looks down. I put my hand over his on the back of the couch.

And I leave it there.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Storm. I mean, it makes sense you’d deal with anxiety like that. You’d lost so much, and you were all alone. How old were you when your brother died?”

He looks at me again, this time, a different, softer expression on his face.

“I was fourteen.”

I nod slowly. “You were a child, Storm. I’m sure your parents were dealing with their own shit, but you were just a kid and you were grieving, too.

You deserved better from them.” I feel my chest getting hot, and the sharp pain in my throat that happens when I’m particularly riled up starts to pulse.

Storm smiles at my outburst, though, and the heat travels to my face.

“I’ve never had someone get so incensed on my behalf,” he says.

I go still, and he flips his wrist, winding his fingers around mine.

“Well,” I say primly, trying to ignore the confusing blend of desire and outrage swirling in my gut. “It’s the truth.”

He tilts his grin to the side before continuing.

“Riale was my bodyguard at the time, and when I started having the attack, I ran to find him. I thought I was dying and told him I needed to go to the hospital. Instead, he triaged me, and as he did so, I started to be able to breathe again. He didn’t tell me it was a panic attack—I figured that out later, but he told me I was fine and called the doctor to the house to confirm it. ”

“Sounds…efficient,” I add, trying to remain diplomatic.

Storm shrugs, and the song shifts again, this time to an Alessia Cara song.

“The next day was Thanksgiving. Riale was off the schedule, and I’d vowed to stay in bed forever, but he came into my room bright and early and dragged me out of the house.

I thought he was abducting me for all of five minutes before he called up his mom and put her on speaker phone to tell her she’d have an extra guest for the holiday. ”

There’s that soft look again. The one that makes him look years younger, like a young twenty-something, rather than the older bearing he carries that makes him seem like an experienced, detached player who charms the ladies easily—like Idris Elba on his best day.

“It was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

That warmth, that joy. You gotta understand.

I went to private school and was surrounded by nothing but white people.

My parents were from the ‘I’m Black and I’m proud’ generation, but when I entered his house, it was like entering a whole new world.

I’d never known another way of living existed until I met Riale’s family. ”

I nod, staying quiet.

“It’s like, I didn’t realize how cold I felt—physically cold—until I walked into their house.

When I entered, it was like I was warmed to my soul.

They live on the outskirts, and I could probably fit five of their houses in mine, but none of that mattered.

It felt like I was alive for the first fucking time in my life.

And they welcomed me. I was surrounded by Riale’s aunts and uncles and cousins—so many cousins.

But his mom and dad? Well, it was like something cracked when they called me ‘son.’”

I zone in, realizing he’s rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb, but I’m not sure it’s even a conscious move because his eyes have a far-off look that tells me that he’s mostly back there, in that warm, love-filled house.

“I was quiet and observed everyone, and I saw how they interacted. I saw family , Shae. I understood, in that moment, what community is, why it’s important, and the power and majesty of Blackness.

I wanted to soak it up, live in it, and have it in my soul.

And it’s like Riale and his parents saw that, too. ”

He chuckles.

“And his parents, it was just…wild to see them move together. They were like a unit, counterpoints to each other. It’s like they communicated without words, and when they passed each other, they’d share touches, almost like they couldn’t help themselves.

But when they actually looked at each other?

It’s like their love became a physical, visible thing.

And I realized…I wanted that. So fucking badly. ”

My heart starts to beat faster and faster, racing, because what the hell is he saying? That he wants to love me? That he’s…in love with me?

The thought should be terrifying because this is moving so fast. Way too fucking fast. But it doesn’t scare me. Instead, it feels like something shifts in my chest, properly aligning my heart with my intellect. Everything seems clearer than before.

It feels like Storm’s always been here, in this emotional space when it comes to me, so his declaration doesn’t scare me…but my reaction to it does.

Before I can put some distance between us, his hand lands on my cheek. His palm is warm, a little rough with precise calluses, and goddamn, it causes my traitorous body to do strange and unusual things.

Or, I guess, familiar and common.