Page 3 of Honor and Claim (A New Reign #2)

Chapter Three

COSIMA

A smile overtakes my face before my eyes can open.

I feel the weight of Z’s body pressed to mine, spooning me.

I’m not sure when he moved. The last thing I remember was his body collapsing onto mine.

His weight was pressing me into the mattress.

It wasn’t crushing; in fact, it was soothing.

Z had surrounded all of me, like he was trying to consume me, and I wanted him to.

Slowly I roll over, wanting to face him.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the small trace of light still only coming from the computer monitors.

I’m in a bit of shock that it actually happened.

For so long I’ve wanted this from Z. For him to feel the same way I do.

My fingers itch to reach out and touch him, but I would rather not wake him.

I want to watch him for a few minutes without him knowing.

It's always Z that watches the rest of us.

Unable to help myself, I lean in and brush my mouth to his in a feather kiss. "Cosima," he mutters in his sleep, making my smile grow more. If I'm not careful, my cheeks will be as sore as the rest of me. There is a delicious ache between my thighs.

I can't help but wonder how this will all play out.

Z had been intense when we made love. He can always be bossy, but this was another level.

I have never seen that side of him before.

I always felt a connection between us and was sure he felt it too, but last night, I could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he touched me. He couldn't get enough of me.

This will change things between us, and honestly, it's about damn time. I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep, so I ease out of bed. I find my discarded panties and nightgown on the floor. I grab them both, slipping them back on.

Knowing I’m likely a total mess, I decide to go back to my room to get myself put back together.

First, I lean down over the bed and press another kiss gently to Z’s mouth.

He looks so damn sexy right now with his hair disheveled, and the sheet barely covering his lean but muscular body.

So many nights I pictured him like this.

This all feels as though it’s a dream. I reach down and pinch myself just to make sure. Definitely reality.

When I make it back to my bedroom, I grab clean panties before heading to my bathroom. It’s not until I’m under the full light that I notice the inside of my thighs.

Oh crap. I hadn’t thought about bleeding. I mean, I know logically you can bleed when you have sex for the first time, but it hadn’t been at the forefront of my mind in the heat of the moment. Nor had protection.

There is clear evidence of that between my legs.

I should be freaking out, but the smile on my face doesn’t falter.

Yesterday, I’d been hurt about how things had gone and Z losing his shit on me.

I was debating going back to Europe, but now everything is different.

I truly have a reason to stay. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy.

I think about how we’ll tell my parents and brothers about this as I brush my teeth and hair. We could wait and enjoy our time together before anyone else gets involved. That actually sounds rather nice.

I swipe on some mascara and pause on the lip gloss. I shouldn’t overdo it, then Z will know I got out of bed only to sneak back into it after I'd pampered myself.

Fuck it, I'm putting it on. It is, after all, me. I have lived for lip gloss since I discovered it in my mom's purse when I was young. I have been a girly girl my whole life. That's who I am, and Z knows that.

The only times I ever got down and dirty with the boys or men is when I was learning and practicing self-defense.

A must, growing up in our family. One I thought was normal for everyone else too.

I'd been gravely mistaken. In fact, a lot of things hadn't been normal in comparison.

You don't realize that until you're thrust out into the world.

My reality check may have been a bit different from a lot of others, considering I was put in a fancy private school, but it was still a shock to me.

When I went to school here, I was a black leopard.

No one wanted to come near me. I'm sure the other kids didn't know who I was, but their parents did, and they told them to stay away from me, and that's exactly what happened.

That made school rather lonely. Everyone pretended I didn't exist but I got through it.

When I went to Europe, things were different.

I was in the same company when it came to the kids that went there.

I flourished there, making some acquaintances.

It had been nice, but then I got homesick and missed my family. There was no winning either way.

When I'm done making myself presentable, I decide to go downstairs and make breakfast and bring it back up. Chef Marcello eyes me when I enter the kitchen. He can be rather territorial.

He’s been with our family for decades. I’m starting to think he came with the house.

When my brother War took over for my father, he also took over the farm, as we call it.

It’s really a giant estate with other homes on it.

It sits right outside of the city, but it’s been deemed the farm because of its rolling hills of land.

There are a few barns on the land. One I’m not allowed in, which obviously made me sneak inside. The place was squeaky clean and smelled of bleach. It was easy for me to put together what the barn was used for. My impulse control just sucks, which means I had to see it for myself.

“Morning,” I chirp at him.

“What are you up to?”

I hold back a laugh. “I was going to make breakfast.”

“Then, what is all this?” His Italian accent bleeds into his words. It always does when he gets huffy.

“That is food.” Chef Marcello already has a full spread laid out. He slides his hands into the pockets on the front of his white apron. He has worn the same attire every day for as long as I can remember. It's rare I see him out of it, but those pockets are different.

"It is food you eat. It's already made."

"What if I want to cook for myself?" His expression turns into one of horror. "What?" I laugh.

"You'll blow my kitchen up."

"Hey!" is my only response because he might not be wrong. "Why do you have to call a girl out?"

"I must protect my kitchen."

"What's with the new apron?" I ask, searching under the kitchen island for a tray. A glass baking pan comes sliding out, hitting the floor. I cringe.

"Move." He bumps me with his knee, so I dramatically fall over. "Don't start with me. What are you searching for?"

"A serving tray." I sit up. "That was assault."

"You assaulted my baking pan first." He picks it up, inspecting it.

"It's fine." I stand, taking it from him. "I'm looking for a serving tray." Marcello nods, going around to the other side of the kitchen island to pull one out.

"Lady Tova designed the pockets on my apron. It's rather convenient."

"Lady Tova." I smile, shaking my head as I take the tray from him. Since Tova married my brother, Chef Marcello told her she was now the lady of the house and could pick out the meals and such to be planned.

"You know I'm on to you." I point toward him. "Making Tova homemade Pop-Tarts and then calling her the lady of the house. You buttered her all up."

"Butter always does the trick." He smirks.

"You're not wrong." I laugh.

Tova's pockets are rather convenient. She's added them to a few of my dresses, and they came in handy. It's a nice spot to hide a small knife, in case you need to stab someone. I can’t let Z find out that I put knives there. Then he might ban me from having pockets next.

I decide Chef Marcello might be right about my cooking. It’s not a skill set I was taught. When I was away at school, we had dining halls. I never had to cook, and the few times I have, when he was sick, it hasn’t gone well. I can accept that cooking isn’t one of my strengths.

I grab a couple of plates and start to fill them with a variety of foods before I grab some oranges and one of Z's protein drink things. Chef Marcello's eyebrows lift when he sees me get the protein drink, knowing those are Z's. Marcello makes them fresh whenever Z is here.

"He had a long night; I thought I'd bring him breakfast," I rush to say, a bit too quickly.

Chef makes a motion like he's zipping his lips, and I know my secret is safe.

That man has to have a million secrets stored in his mind at this point.

"Thank you." I give him a kiss on the cheek before grabbing my now filled tray to carry back up the stairs, hoping I don't run into anyone else.

I'm sure they too would make the same note about Z's drink.

There is no way they'd think I was doing this out of the kindness of my heart. A few years ago? Maybe, but not as of recently. I would be more likely to throw this tray at Z.

When I get to Z’s door, I contemplate knocking but decide against it. I mean, the man was inside me last night, took my virginity; I shouldn’t have to knock to enter his room. Balancing the tray against the door hinge, I turn the knob and enter.

I immediately pause. His computer screens are now off, but the bedside lamp is on. The bed is still a rumpled mess. I put the tray down, checking the bathroom and closet, but he’s not there either.

Where the hell did he go? I hurry back toward my bedroom, thinking he might have gone there if he woke up while I was getting breakfast. When I enter my room, there is no sign of him there. I must have missed him coming or going, but this house is ginormous.

Then I spot a piece of white paper by the door that I didn’t notice when I entered my room. I put the tray down and snatch it off the floor.

“No.” I shake my head, not believing what I’m seeing, but there is no misunderstanding what it says. He’s made it all too clear.

I’m sorry

I crumble the note in my hand, fisting it into a ball.

He’s fucking sorry? Oh, he will be.