Page 178 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

Even though I’d been a little sore from Dorian, a blaze ignited inside me.

“You want us.”

He’d been right. And worse? I still do. Achingly so.

“All I want to do is talk. I promise.”

His words bring me back to the present, but I know I’m blushing, and I wonder if he’s read my mind.

But the reminder of the pull he has over me terrifies me. “I’m not sure we have anything to say to each other.”

“Dorian doesn’t know I’m here.”

Needing support, I reach for the door frame.

From inside, there’s a plaintive meow, and Calypso pushes her paw through the small opening between us and her.

“I think Calypso wants to see me.” He cracks a small smile. “And I want to see her.”

A million times and in a million ways, he’s been so loving to her.

In the end, Calypso’s second plaintive wail is the thing that convinces me. Since I went back to work, she’s beenalone more than she’s accustomed to. She has to be as lonely as I am. “Fair warning. She’s going to try to escape.”

“Want me to grab her? Or hold your stuff while you do it?”

After thinking it through, I hand off my belongings to him. “Open the door slowly.”

“Roger that.”

He does, and I manage to get my hands around Calypso before she can fully exit the apartment.

Surprising me, she doesn’t squirm or try to get away, just seems to be content to be held against my chest.

In moments, we’re inside with the door closed. He slides the lock home with a click that sounds too final. With a mewl, Calypso reaches a paw toward Brennan.

My heart has a complete meltdown.

She starts squirming, and he takes the wiggling ball of fur from my arms.

Instantly she coos and head bumps him. “I missed you too,” he tells her, petting her.

His presence takes up a lot of space, making my apartment shrink.

Realizing I can’t stand so close to him and keep my sanity, I move into the living room. The room’s a complete mess. But why wouldn’t it match my internal state?

I’m very much aware of how lumpy my furniture is, how uncomfortable he’ll be if he sits, how much cat hair is on every surface. In fact I’d be surprised if he wanted to stay. “I don’t have any wine to offer you. Bottled water, maybe?”

“I’m fine.”

Without an invitation, he drops into a chair, somehow managing to keep Calypso comfortable while also setting down my satchel.

At a loss, I remain standing.

Part of me wants him to go.

Another part yearns to know how he is, for news of Dorian, for the life I left behind. I hate that I want to know, hate that I’m still tethered to them.

“You’re back at school.”