Come to me

Elle woke, confused and disoriented, she blinked slowly, as the details of her dream faded, and all she could remember was his mane of flaming red hair and his angular impossibly beautiful face. She groaned, feeling uncomfortable with her wild dysregulated thoughts, especially since she was dreaming about Daire! But not Daire…looked like Daire, felt like…Milo. She turned her face then, she was cramped and felt slightly restrained but warm and safe, she was laying on something firm, decidedly not a mattress. She opened her eyes and looked up, and jerked away violently. She was sleeping on Milo! Her head had been perched on his chest, with her body curled against his side, spooning! She gasped, and in her haste to get away completely dislodged herself landing hard on the ground beside the couch, he woke up with a start. 

“Wha…what's happening?” He sputtered disoriented, Elle looked up at him from the ground, her leg still entangled with one of his. She tried to pull it free, which succeeded in her kneeing him in the ribs. “Oww, the fuck?” He gasped, winded. He glanced down at her tumbled on the floor, her leg dangerously close to his groin now, and stared. 

“Good morning,” She said wryly, her face flaming with embarrassment, 

“Debatable on the good, it is morning.” He replied, still staring at her. “Did…you sleep on the floor, with your foot in my ribs?”

“We slept together on the couch,” She told him, her eyes widened at precisely the same moment his did. “Uh, that is to say…” She began awkwardly.

“You slept together?!” Max all but shrieked from the top of the steps, both Elle and Milo glanced up at him. Elle wished she could dig a hole to hide in, when she realized they weren’t alone, they had a witness to this spectacular debacle. 

“Slept, as in went to sleep.” Milo hissed at him.

“On the couch?!” Max continued steam rolling over his twin, descending the steps to them. “Out in the open? Do you have no shame? No self control? No one wants to see your bare ass!” He scolded.

“I’m a grown man and this is my house!” Milo threw back at him, “If I want to sleep with someone on the couch I bought, in the living room of the house I own…!”

“We didn’t sleep together!” Elle interrupted, humiliated beyond belief. “We fell asleep on the couch, watching a movie.”

“Porn!?” Max gasped, Elle groaned. “With our mother in the house?” 

“Don’t you have some bridge you can crawl back under? It’s too early for you to be harassing Elle and I like this!” Milo growled at him. Max held up his hands, his eyes dancing with amusement, only then did Elle realize he was teasing them.

“You have like 6 bedrooms you could have done this in,” He informed them sweetly, “And a custom made California King in your room, could have done all sorts of wicked things, how the both of you managed on this couch…” 

“We didn’t manage anything aside from a nap, go away!” Elle glowered at him. Throwing one of the couch cushions at him, he easily dodged.

“Could have laid her out on the rug in front of the fire, instead you crammed the both of you…” He continued warming to his subject.

“I’ll cram my fist in your mouth if you don’t shut the absolute fuck up,” Milo snarled, his own face flaming. 

“And you kiss Elle with that mouth,” He tsked, smirking at the both of them.

“We haven’t kissed,” She threw at Max furiously.

“Are you mad that I said you kissed, or mad that you haven’t kissed… yet?” Max asked her saccharinely. She felt all eyes on her at the question, including Milo’s. She looked up at him, meeting his curious eyes. 

“Not even the point,” She mumbled back. “Christ this is so much,” She groaned under her breath.

“What in the name of all that is holy is all this ruckus?” Daire’s deep sleep roughed voice called from behind Max. Elle buried her face in her hands, of course. “Do you no’ understand jet lag? Jesus, Mary and Joseph it's the wee hours for me, and you lot screaming like it's the second coming!”  There he stood at the top of the stairs, shirtless in his boxers, his hair a tumbled mess. Objectively with his muscular, well formed frame, light dusting of red chest hair, and covering of freckles on his shoulders and arms, he was sexy. But, when Elle looked at him, she felt nothing, like looking at a shirtless sibling. 

“Milo and Elle slept together,” Max informed him with glee. Daire blinked surprised, before turning his attention to the two of them, Elle still on the floor leg precariously close to Milo’s manhood.

“And it was so bad she attempted to escape him by giving him a swift kick in the bollocks?” He offered, his lips tweaking at the imagery. “You’re supposed to remove their clothes first, grand da,” He informed Milo. 

“I genuinely and truly hate both of you,” Elle hissed, she carefully pulled her leg toward herself so as not to injure Milo. Milo’s face was a study in repressed anger, his jaw clenched his eyes blazing, but he said nothing. He turned to look at Elle with a devious smile on his handsome face a moment later. 

“Tea, anyone?” He asked ever so sweetly, casting her a glance.

“Try it with the almond milk, it really adds something to it.” She agreed easily, he looked at her arching a brow, smiling approvingly at her. 

“Oh actually I could go for a cuppa,” Max said easily. Milo swiftly rose from the couch, leading the way, turning to cast  Elle a conspiring grin. She followed, not wanting to miss the show.

****

Watching Max and Daire retch had definitely perked up her day, but Elle was still a tumble of confused and anxious energy. Freshly showered and dressed, she had decided to roam around Milo’s home. He had offered to give her a tour at breakfast, but she had felt much too shy of him in light of last night's and this morning's events to be alone with him again. Now as she wandered outside to what he had passingly called the ‘backyard’ she wished she had. It had to have been a half acre of land behind his house, beautiful manicured lawns, a raised deck with a heated pool, all in perfect vantage of the most breathtaking view of the mountains she had ever seen. She sighed, the pool was elevated above ground,on a natural hill, the view while swimming would be spectacular, especially at night time under the stars. Not that she would find out, Elle was at best a weak swimmer and at worse a drowning hazard. But still, she sighed fancifully.  

Milo watched her covertly as she walked around the property, from his perch on his balcony. He had not intended to do so, but had come out here to get a moment away from his natering family. He couldn’t help himself, his curiosity getting the better of him. He watched her exploring, wondering if she liked what she saw. It was of great importance to him that he had made the right choices when designing and creating this place, that he had made a space that she would find pleasing. It had turned out a bit masculine if he was being honest, but he hadn’t wanted to be too presumptuous of what she might like. Perhaps he should have added more flowers? Did she even like flowers? He sighed, he didn’t know anything about her in this lifetime, and he wanted to know everything. He wanted to learn what pleased her, what upset her, what her favorite things were, did she like the rain as he did? Did she like to read, or was she more outdoorsy? 

She ran her fingers gently against the wooden railing of the staircase that led to the pool. She gazed up at it with longing. Milo tilted his head as he watched her. Go to the pool, go anywhere you wish.  She looked up at the view, consideringly, a soft dreamy smile on her face. He caught his breath at the sight, God she was hauntingly beautiful. What are you thinking, what makes you smile so? And what can I do to make you look at me like that? She turned away, never having walked up the stairs, and for some reason it pained him that she didn’t, despite how much she clearly wanted to.  All of this is for you, only for you.

She walked on, circling past the pool, but still shooting it covert glances as she continued her walk.  You want to explore it, but you won’t, why? What troubles you Elle? He watched her walk on, heading toward the small bit of forest that he’d left on the edge of his property. What he wouldn’t do to be with her, down there holding her delicate hand, showing her everything that he had created here…for her. He had only bought this land and built this place because his Mother had told him she was near here. Since the completion of building he had spent as much time as he could here, hoping that he would find her. And now that he had…he was bungling the whole thing. He didn’t know how to present himself to her, he feared if he came on too strong, showed her the depth of his longing and want, he would terrify her. Alternatively, and here in was his fear, Milo knew he was sometimes viewed as cold and indifferent.

He was the levelheaded, calm, collected problem solver with his friends, family and work colleagues. Never quick to anger, or really any intense emotion. His default was steady, reliable, and at times detached, maybe even a little boring. But Elle, she was all passion and fire, quick witted and saucy, there was nothing boring or detached about her. In that way she was much more similar to Daire than him, wouldn’t she want someone like her? Someone who could match her ferocity and fervor?

Last night she looked at him with desire and intensity sometimes that made him weak in the knees, but in other moments, it was as if she mistrusted him and her feelings. What if she was only physically attracted to him, but did not care for who he was? He took a shaking breath at the thought. 

Women often called him cold, the few attempts he had made in the past to pursue romantic involvement had always been clinical and bland. He could never bring himself to feel anything besides passing attraction to other women, and even then it had been flavorless. He had thought it was because every other relationship had felt like infidelity, but maybe…maybe it was him. Maybe he was just...frigid. But he didn’t feel frigid and indifferent when he was around Elle, he felt..fire, electricity, bright, alive, he was so attracted to her it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself, and he was barely succeeding at it. She had been here for two days, and he was going out of his mind for her. Hell he had erupted in anger more times since she’d gotten here than he had in years, maybe ever. To say nothing of the deep seated wild lust he felt toward her, growing hourly it seemed.

He had woken up before her this morning, with her cradled against him. Before he could stop himself he had wrapped her in his arms, pulling her closer, carefully placing her sleeping head against his chest. Gently running his hand down her slim back, in his hoodie. It had been the first time he had ever gone to sleep with a woman in his arms like that, hell the first time he had slept with anyone. In her sleep she had drawn closer to him, wrapping her leg between his, sighing softly. Desire and want had hit him like a freight train, but he had stayed still, savoring her in his arms for the first time, and praying it wouldn’t be the last. He had felt such tenderness for her, vulnerable and soft in her sleep, and had swept the lightest of kisses over the crown of her head. He knew he should feel some sort of remorse for the liberties he had taken, but truthfully he couldn’t help but feel anything but delight. Waking up with her on the floor, with her knee in his ribs, had been startling, and…painful for more than the obvious reason, it was because he realized that she had found herself in that position attempting to get away from him. 

Now he looked away from her on a wave of anguish, and frustration. He might want her with a seemingly endless intensity but she decidedly did not feel the same way. She clearly did not crave his presence the way he did hers, even if she did occasionally ‘eyebang’ him. At breakfast today, while his brother and Daire had both retched violently at their disgusting tea cocktail, he had caught her looking at him furtively, naked raw hunger in her eyes…Before she abruptly turned away from him, looking so disconcerted. 

Milo knew he was an attractive man, knew that he was considered ‘hot’, had had women comment openly to him about his and his twin’s sexual appeal. But he wanted more from Elle, he wanted more than what every other woman seemed to want from him. More times than he would care to admit, women had thrown themselves at him, shoving hotel room keys and panties into his pockets at conferences, and events. Once at a wrap party for a speech he’d done, a corporate lawyer from another large pharmaceutical company, had hopped into his lap, and shoved a condom into his inner jacket pocket, lingering her hand a few moments longer on his torso, before seductively purring in his ear about what he could do to her. He had gotten up so fast he’d unceremoniously dumped her on her ass, and left utterly disgusted. Max and Julian, who had both been at the event, had ragged on him for months over his reaction to ‘the lawyer with the pornstar body’ he had violently rejected.  

“If you’re gay, just say that.” Jullian had called, beside himself with humor at the display he’d made.

“We genuinely can never come back here now, well done Milo, you could have just said no, you didn’t have to run like a little virgin bitch!” Max had said, tears of mirth coming from his eyes as he all but rolled with laughter. 

“Oh please don’t touch my willy,” Julian had screeched in a high pitched childlike tone, “I’m saving myself!” 

“For my future husband,” Max had added, before they had both doubled over with wild mocking laughter. 

Milo had taken it on the chin, as he often did with his brothers' antics, but it had touched a nerve then as it still did now. Because the truth was, they weren’t exactly wrong. He had never been able to successfully come on to a woman without feeling sick about it, like he was cheating. And worse yet, they had hit the nail on the head with at least one thing, Milo Van Ee was in fact a virgin, and he had inadvertently been saving himself for her…

****

The trader tosses her before his feet, she’s no more than a filthy bag of stinking rags, he barely stifles a desire to throw a bucket of water on her, and cast her from his presence. But when the trader pulls her to her knees in front of him and drags the outermost of her rags from her face he understands why he brought her to him. 

He stares at her, barely schooling his face in time. Never has he seen such a specimen! She shakes and trembles, her teeth clenched, tears trail down her unusual face. Her mismatched eyes are shiny, gold and storm gray, a shock of white hair in a strange line that divides her dark eyelashes and brows as well as the hair on her head. He barely registers she is clutching her hands to her chest, a trail of blood seeping down her forearm, so enthralled with her features.

“Now she doesn’t look like much,” The trader begins. He glances over her again now, with a more discerning eye.

“She isn’t much,” He says coldly, her face is pinched and he can tell she’s scarcely had a full meal in sometime. “Show me your hands girl.” He demands, she shutters in fear and pain. 

“Do as you're told!” The trader roars when she doesn’t immediately comply, slapping her in the face. She lifts her arms to protect her face, and the trader grabs her wrists roughly. Shoving them in front of her for his perusal. 

Her right hand shakes, blood seeping from the recently severed top knuckle of her ring finger. Half her little finger is gone, and poorly healing. Judging by the smell, she might lose the whole of that finger all together. 

“Not fast enough to thieve then.” He comments. “What use do I have with a half crippled, slow, criminal?” he demands. In answer the trader rips her rags fully from her body, leaving her bare before them. She is young, not yet through puberty, maybe 8 or 9 years old, her skin soft and supple, no scars or wounds, no recent illnesses. Thin, pinched, half starved, but not for the whole of her life, this is new. Good bones, she’ll grow into a pretty girl, once she’s fed properly…if she’s fed properly. But it’s her unusual coloring that marks her as something rare indeed. Parts of her hair and skin are almost pure white, the rest a soft lovely olive tone, dark hair. The contrast is stark and stunning, as if two people reside in this singular body, a chimera. She uselessly tries to cover her nakedness with her thin arms, he grasps her damaged hand before she can soil her skin with her blood. 

“Unused, I’ve had her checked.” The trader informs him, leering at her, his own crude lustful expression telling him exactly what this girl’s fate is if he does not purchase her. Strangely the idea…bothers him. He reaches out and catches her face in his hand, turning her to look at him, he stares at her face. Unusual…so very unusual. 

“One gold coin,” He informs the trader. 

“One?!” The man rages, “She’s at least worth 3!”

“You're lucky to get any gold for this thing, you’ve already damaged her hand! Marked her for a criminal!” He hisses back at the trader. 

“I’m…I’m not a criminal…” The child whimpers in prettily accented French. He barely stifles a smirk, a spaniard child who can speak French? So she’s somewhat educated… 

“Three times caught,” he says simply, dismissively. “Do you know after the fourth time they don’t take parts of your fingers anymore, child?” She trembles in terror.

“I…was just…hungry…” She manages, her voice breaking. He shrugs.

“You stole, that’s a crime. You are a criminal.” He says simply. She sobs then, looking from him to the trader and back. “One gold coin, and if you keep wasting my time, it’ll be a silver coin, or you can take this wretch and see if you can find someone else willing to pay for a half starved, filthy, stinking, inadequate criminal.” 

“They say she’s a witch,” The trader informs him carefully. “That’s why they cast her from the orphanage, say she speaks to bones…”

“No! I’m no witch!” She cries out horrified. “That’s a lie!” 

“Quiet girl!” The trader rages, lifting his hand to strike her, “You speak when you are spoken to!” She flinches from him, and stares at the ground. He watches the interaction, curiously.

“Bones?” He repeats. 

“Aye, they say she can see things too, the future, knows a man’s life path by simply looking at them, some say she’s a demoness…” The trader continues enthusiastically. 

“No…no! I’m…not! I…just…I can see things!” She pleads, this time the trader does not warn her, striking her hard and fast so she falls to the ground face first. He blows out an annoyed breath.

“Now it’s 7 pieces of silver,” He informs the trader, who turns to glare at him.

“What?! For disciplining her?” The trader demands furiously.

“For damaging her face. Didn’t you just try to sell me on her beauty?” He points out. “How am I supposed to lie with her now? Place a sack over her head?”  The trader makes a furiously grumbling sound. “Take it, or leave it, I personally couldn’t possibly care less.” 

“I think her powers might warrant at least another silver piece.” The trader mutters, “They say…”

“They say bullshit all the time, do you think I’m in the habit of listening to fishwives and gossips?” He demands, “Prove it to me, show me her powers and we can discuss that extra coin.” The trader nudges her with his toe.

“Go on! Show him!” He hisses at her, she shakes in terror, refusing to look at either of them. “Do it! Now!” He rages kicking her in the ribs, she whimpers.

“I…can’t…” She sobs, “I’m no witch…”

“There you see, 6 silver coins and you can fucking leave now.” He rejoins.

“You lying little bitch!” The trader spits, kicking her hard. “Show him! Show him right now, or I swear to god I’ll put you out on the streets! Laying with any man for whatever price they’ll have you for!” 

“Five,” He says, the trader stops mid kick, turning to glare at him. “Four…oh do continue kicking her, I could use the bargain.” 

“I’m not selling her for less than 5!” The trader rages. “I could get that much working her on the streets for a week!” 

“Five.” He agrees, doling out the coins so fast the trader can not even complete this thought. “Now get the hell out.” The trader stares at the coins in his hand, and then at the girl, stunned by the trade, before nodding and leaving. Unwilling to push his luck any further. Good! He has no more time for this visionless ignorant bumpkin. He turns to look at the weeping girl on his floor, tilting his head back and forth as he takes her in. “Do you have a name?”  She whimpers in response, he rolls his eyes. Reaching down he grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her face up to his. “This is how it works, I ask something of you, and you do it, I don’t repeat myself, understand? What is your fucking name?” He growls in her face.

“Lu…Lucia…” She manages, staring at him terror struck.

“Lucia,” He repeats, releasing her hair. “I am your new master, you will call me master. If you wish to eat, and be clothed, you do what you are told, when you are told. I’ve no use for a disobedient slave, are we clear on that?”  She nods quickly, sniffling. “Nothing in life is free,” To punctuate the words he grasps her damaged hand and shoves it toward her face, “If you want to eat, you have to work for it, so tell me, little witchling, what CAN you do?”

He grasps her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him from over her shoulder, as he takes her from behind. Her face is placid and expressionless, resigned. He knows she doesn’t enjoy this, that she submits to his physical needs because that is what is expected of her. It never bothered him before, but now as he looks at her…He feels a strange pang in his chest. She’s been his personal possession for ten years now, grown into her unusual but beautiful features. So much so that over the years he’s been offered much gold for her. But he is a possessive and jealous man, and though it’s only over the last few years he’s begun using her for his needs, he has never thought to share her…with another man anyways. 

Lately though he has found himself becoming more and more obsessed with little Lucia, his witch. He does not like anyone to look at her, or touch her besides himself. The last woman he brought to his bed to share Lucia with…there had been a moment when the woman had caught Lucia’s delicate face in her hands, kissing her with such passion, for his benefit naturally, but it had the exact opposite reaction. He sent her away immediately afterwards, and took Lucia a bit too harshly if he were being honest. He regrets it now, seeing the bruises he’s left on her. He’s not one to enjoy inflicting pain…persay. Carefully he tilts Lucia’s face toward him, and does something he has never done while laying with her, and kisses her. She freezes, stunned, her eyes widened in alarm. 

“Have you always tasted this sweet?” He whispers, she shutters, her mouth open, bewildered by his inexplicable behavior. Something of it angers him, this is how she’s to respond to his affection? He palms her head in his hand, and shoves it down onto the bed, holding her down with force as he angrily pounds into her, as hard as he can, with all his strength. He knows from her helpless winces, and whimpers that it hurts, good…bitch…He threads his fingers into her hair and pulls it hard, he feels some of it come loose. She cries out in pain, a tear helplessly falling from her eye. He feels that uncomfortable pang in his chest again, feels…shame for hurting her. Which only serves to make him angrier, he lifts his hand to slap her face and just barely stops himself. He hasn’t hit Lucia in a long, long time, and then only to discipline her…so why now in this moment does the need to strike her feel near irresistible, why does it fill him with such…excitement? He leans down to her face, and licks a tear from her cheek, she cringes, closing her eyes tight. “I could kill you, Lucia, and no one…not one single person would know, or fucking care.” He whispers, and her entire body shakes in fear, it’s enough to bring him the most powerful, mind numbing pleasure of his life…

****

I’ll do with you as I please, when I please… He woke up hot and ready for her, so unbelievably sexually frustrated, he reached to her underwear…soon I won’t have to pretend you stupid bitch…If you don’t want my affection, you’ll get my fucking cruelty! He turned his head to look at the photograph of her he’d moved to the nightstand, looking into her eyes as he wrapped her panties around his member. Everything of yours is mine, everything you are is fucking mine…

****

Elle sat in her room with the door open, reading on the window box. She had found a book in the living room, tucked away under his coffee table Her cell service was spotty at best in his house, and almost non-existent in the room, except for at the extreme left side of the bed on the nightstand And so she had been forced to find something else to amuse herself with. Naturally as the manager of a bookstore, Elle was a massive bookworm, her phone had an app that allowed her to read and download books at her leisure, and was filled with tomes, but she needed service to access them. So instead she had rather desperately resorted to this book. 

It was a book that was clearly translated from another language to English, and it was a dry read. She scrunched her face in annoyance, at this point she was silently rooting for the protagonist to die herself, if only so the book would end. A wolf whistle startled her up from her book, she glanced up to find Daire pressed into her doorway.

“Did no’ ken I was into the sexy librarian look, but here we are,” He teased, smiling at her. Elle looked down at herself and then at him with a droll dry look.  She was still wearing Milo’s hoodie, and a pair of oversized sweatpants.

“I look like a homeless,” She replied, “An actual librarian would kick me out of the library to stop me from sleeping in the periodicals.” 

“You look verra pretty for a homeless person then,” He conceded. “I’d take you home,”

“From what Maeve says you’d take anyone home, for the right price.” She retorted, “She called you a street hooker yesterday,”

“Aye, she called me a fair many things yesterday,” He agreed, “the words prostitute, manky, dobber head, and son of a whore were passed around, take offense to the last one, being that we have the same mam.”

“She was very put out that you came on to me,” Elle offered. “Care to explain?”

“What’s to explain?” He asked, a tone of annoyance in his voice, “You belong to the headcase bawbag, and I’m to keep my pecker to myself,” 

“He’s not a headcase,” She replied, before the full extent of what he said clicked in her brain, “And I don’t belong to him!” She hissed outraged.

“Oh aye, what would you call believing in your own delusion so strongly you’re convinced a perfect stranger is your reincarnated soulmate if no’ being a headcase?” He asked her sardonically.

“A lot of people believe in reincarnation,” She defended.

“Do you?” He asked her, “Aren’t you a wee bit too old to believe in fairy tales,lass?

“You can’t be certain it’s not true,” She told him sternly, though she was chilled at the thought. Were they all deluded? Had their certainty deluded her too?

“Is that the measure of things then? If you can nae prove it’s not so then it is?” He asked her, “You strike me as a canny lass, surely you haven’t fallen hook line and sinker for this rubbish?”

“Did you just come here to gossip, or did you want something?” She intoned annoyed at his high handed tone. 

“Come now lass, let’s no’ quarrel over this,” He replied sweetly, “I wanted to see if you’d like to join me for a ride about town? Surely you’d like a wee stretch?’

“A ride, as in on your bike?” She was actually intrigued. The weather was nicer today than yesterday, and to be honest she felt a bit more confident about Daire now.

“Aye, just around the property and maybe up the road,” He told her, “Unless I can interest you in a piece?” 

“A piece of what?” She asked, confused.

“A meal, can I take you to eat, lass.” He explained with an indulgent smile.

“Oh,” She said, “I mean, I could eat.” 

“Then let me feed you,” He said in a friendly tone, “I have a place in mind, my treat.” He held his hand up before she could retort, “Aye, I ken you are an independent woman with her own money, and it would pain you greatly to allow me to pay, but I’m certain you will live,” He said sarcastically

“I was actually going to say, you had to pay, I am in fact a broke bitch.” She said sardonically.

“I saw your auto, you do no’ have to tell me you’re broke.” He commented.

“Stop talking so much shit about Cecilia! She’s doing her best!” She hissed at him in fake hurt.

“You named that monstrosity Cecilia?” He asked her flabbergasted.

“Cece for short,” She told him with a smile. “Named her after a song actually,”

“Because she breaks your heart and shakes your confidence daily?” He offered, with a smirk, referencing the Simon & Garfunkel song, that she had not in fact named the car after.

“Har har,” She replied, rolling her eyes, everyone thought that was the song she was referring to. Which she supposed, made a good case for her to get a new car…

“Come on lass we are wasting daylight, get dressed I’ll meet you downstairs.” He said, coaxingly.

“What’s wrong with this?” She asked, gesturing to her outfit.

“No’ wise to wear baggy clothes on a bike, do you no’ have some jeans or even leggings, something warm though, it can get chilly.” He told her.

“If you’re just inviting me out to see me in something form fitting…” She began suspiciously.

“The thought had crossed my mind, but nae t’is definitely just to feed you, if you want your clothes to drag you off the bike and then against the road like a wee bit of roadkill,by all means.” He informed her.

“Nope, not interested in parasailing on land, I’ll get changed,” She told him, flinching at the image he had created.

“Do you have a leather jacket?” He asked her, “Something thick?” She gave him a pointed look. “That be a no, t’is fine you can borrow one of mine, notice I said borrow, I see your habit of clothes stealing,” He told her nodding his head toward her hoodie. Her face flushed.

“Do all of you know this is his favorite hoodie?” She groaned in embarrassment.

“You don’t forget seeing a 6 and half foot tall man ripping a jumper off his identical twin in the middle of your flat,” He told her easily. “Surprised he hasn’t ripped it off you, would probably be much more fun that stripping your brother, but that’s the logic of a male nun for you,”

“Maybe he’s just a gentleman,” She offered.

“Maybe he’s just a wanker,” He retorted, “Get dressed lass, let’s go,”

“Well get out,” She told him pointing at the door, he looked at her for a long moment.

“Nae danger of you letting me stay?” He asked cheekily.

“Absolutely not, get out.” She told him firmly, he smiled easily, lifting his hands in surrender, as he turned around to leave. 

“I think I’m growing on you, lass,” He told her with a wry smile, she walked over and placed her hand on the door knob.

“Like a bad rash,” She told him sweetly, as she shut the door in his face.

****

Milo watched Elle lope down the stairs from his seat in the living room, she was mouth watering in fitted jeans that hugged her curves to their full advantage and a black workout zip up sweater that highlighted her small waist and pert breasts. He pressed his fist to his mouth to stop from making a sound, sweet lord she was perfection! 

Her face was lit with mischievous excitement. She hadn’t spotted him yet, and he didn’t want to take that look from her. She looked so bright and joyous, he vaguely wondered what had caused this, even as he watched her face surreptitiously, drinking in her happiness. She was humming just under her breath, ‘Cecelia’, good humor, cheer and nervous anticipation radiating from her. She headed straight to the front door, as Daire came out of the kitchen.  Milo felt as if he was being strangled as he watched her smile at him. Daire? Fucking Daire MacReith that son of a bitch is what made her this happy?! Outraged, and yes incredibly jealous, did she dress like that for him?! He clenched his jaw and fists as he resisted the urge to launch himself at the younger man. 

“Does this work?” She asked, turning in a circle in front of Daire. Milo’s eye started twitching.  Daire looked her up and down, pure masculine admiration on his smug face.

“Aye, you’ll do.” He told her. She’ll do? SHE’LL DO!!! SHE’S FUCKING PERFECT YOU USELESS TWAT! Milo internally raged, both hands fisted and pressed to his mouth, all the better to stop himself from screaming. 

“Are you sure?” She asked, uncertainly. Tell her she’s perfect, you ass! Don’t you dare make her feel insecure!  Milo seethed, it was bad enough that this was happening, the least that Daire could do was treat her well.

“Aye,” Daire agreed, “Pretty close to perfect actually, just missing one thing,” He told her. Milo almost came out of his chair, so help him god if Daire kissed her… But instead Daire removed his leather jacket, and draped it around Elle. She turned her head to sniff at the Jacket, and something inside Milo snapped, he got up quickly and quietly backed away from them. He had seen enough, could not stand to be in the room one more second. In his haste to get away he backed into a side table and knocked over a vase that shattered on the floor. Fuck my life!

He looked up to see both Daire and Elle looking at him. Daire arched an eyebrow at him bemused.

“Have you been there this whole time?” Daire asked, giving him a peculiar look. 

“Uhh, no just came down, are you heading out?” Milo shot back trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He could tell he wasn’t fooling Daire at all. 

“You came down, walked across the whole room and then turned around and started walking backward toward that table?” Daire asked, pointedly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I was startled by you two,” Milo said awkwardly, “Not that there’s anything startling about seeing you two together or anything.” He amended quickly. “It's great, you guys together, great.”He said with a tight smile. A look crossed Elle’s face before she schooled her features, Milo completely missed it, but Daire did not. He made a split second decision, placing his arm around Elle’s slim shoulders, a shit eating grin on his handsome face.

“It is great,” Daire retorted, “Off we go lass,” He said, directing her out the door. 

“Have a good time,” Milo called out, instantly hating himself for saying it. Why the fuck would I say that? Daire turned in the door frame making eye contact with Milo, clearly enjoying the older man’s discomfort.

“Oh donna fash yerself, I’ll show her a great time.” He told him, closing the door behind him. 

Milo stood in the living room thunderstruck, he grabbed a vase off the neighboring side table and threw it on the floor shattering it as well. I hate myself so much!

****

Elle wrapped her arms around Daire tighter, as he rode the bike down the road, expertly weaving in and out of traffic, the wind blowing around them, as he picked up speed. An experience that should have been wildly exhilarating, utterly meaningless in the moment. Because all Elle could think about was the indifferent expression on Milo’s face as he told them how great it was to see them together. Hell he was probably acting so awkwardly because he was relieved she was going out with Daire, thrilled that he didn’t have to let her down himself. She was alternating between fury and…hurt. He really didn’t want her at all, even though he thought she was his soulmate? Was she really that much of a letdown that he had fully abandoned his own convictions? 

Or was it because of how she’d behaved? She had essentially ended up spooning him last night, and before that she’d gotten all worked up over holding his hand, and she had cried all over him, worn his clothes in front of him, and there was the eye banging incident…She inwardly groaned, no wonder he was happy to see her off with someone else! She could scarcely keep herself from staring at him whenever they were in the same room, she had probably been skeeving him out this entire time. Oh I hate myself so much! 

She could feel Daire’s muscular body underneath her arms, as he moved subtly. Objectively he was mind numbingly handsome, fit, funny, he smelled great, but…but she felt nothing. She could appreciate his good looks, and humor, even the intensity about him, she could even admit he was charming and she did enjoy his company, but it was like looking at a dimmed picture. All her thoughts about him were logical, she felt like she should feel more but she just didn’t. She was fond of him, but…she wasn’t attracted to him.  

It was strange to see his face in reality and feel nothing, but when she dreamed his face. A cacophony of feelings, and raw desire. Her dream last night, what she could remember of it anyways, had been so vivid, more vivid than any she had in the past. Daire’s face had evoked such intense longing in her there, but when she’d seen him in person…nothing. Her first thought after waking up had been that Aiden looked like Daire but felt like Milo. Was that because…because he was Milo? Was she not having dreams? Was she actually remembering? It seemed a mote point now anyways, as Milo clearly wasn’t interested in her. Maybe Daire was right and she was also a headcase, believing in stupid fairy tales?

He pulled off into an exit, coming toward the town they’d visited before. She tried to focus on the here and now, focus on Daire. Maybe the problem was that she met Milo first? Daire was just as handsome, funny, and probably most importantly actually interested in her. She had dismissed the idea of him initially, but now she wondered, why not? He literally had the face of her dream man, and he was Scottish so he even sounded like him. Not to mention the whole hearing her in his head thing, on paper this was a no brainer, so why did it feel so…wrong?

Are you really going to go for the long shot when the sure thing is right here? She thought annoyed at herself. When in her life had a man as attractive as Daire pay her any attention? And you’re not even going to explore that? Milo was confusing, disorienting even, Daire only confused her because of Milo, she reasoned. If she had met him first, would she even have had any doubts? Yes…looks like Daire, feels like Milo… She violently pushed that thought aside, a lot of shitty things had happened in a really short amount of time, it was messing with her head. If she had met them both under normal circumstances, whom would she have been more attracted to? Milo…Always. She hissed at herself. NO! It would obviously, logically have been Daire.  Wasn’t David always telling her she needed to go out more? To actually date someone? And which of the two had actually asked her on a date?

Daire pulled into a parking lot of a small diner, hopping off the bike he held it steady with one hand, while extending the other to Elle to help her off. He held her hand for a moment longer than needed, and Elle waited to feel some sort of way about it, to feel how she had felt the night before when Milo had held her hand. Nothing… Annoyed with herself, she forced herself to smile at Daire as she removed the helmet. 

“Where have you taken me?” She asked, in what she hoped was a pleasant tone.

“It’s no’ much but the view is worth it, lass,” He told her, directing her toward the door. He got them a table near the back of the diner, it was then that Elle noticed that the entire front end of the place was glass, out of which you could see the lee between two mountains perfectly into a valley that had a small creek, and pond. At the moment there were deer frolicking around. She gaped, it was absolutely stunning. The table he sat them at was at the perfect angle to see the whole of the valley, and be shaded from the sun by the mountains.

“So beautiful,” She breathed.

“Aye,” He agreed, she turned to look at him and it was then that she realized he wasn’t looking at the view at all, he was looking at her. 

****

Milo paced angrily around the living room, muttering to himself in the multiple languages he knew. Occasionally stopping to stare at the front door, absently rubbing a hand against his broad chest, over his heart. Then he would mutter some more in a more sad subdued tone, and continue with his pacing. Which would then seem to enrage him again, and back to his angry tirade. 

“Is this a new thing you’ve taken up, or has something awful happened to Elle?” Max asked in Dutch, sighing, suspecting he knew the answer.

“Daire,” Milo grunted his response, continuing his frustrated pacing. 

“Maeve said he had planned on asking her to lunch?” Max asked, both brothers always communicated in Dutch when they were alone. 

“Tightest fucking jeans, practically painted on,” Milo hissed, “Wearing his fucking jacket,” 

“Daire was wearing skinny jeans?” Max asked, genuinely confused.

“No, who the fuck cares what Daire was wearing?” Milo muttered angrily, “Elle,” He breathed.

“Elle was wearing Daire’s jacket?” Max asked, “That’s what’s got you so hot and bothered?

“Fuck the jacket, its not the point,” He growled at his twin.

“I am going to need you to stop pacing, and explain to me what is happening please.” Max said finally, standing in front of his brother blocking his attempts to continue his pacing.

“He makes her happy, he makes her,” He gestured his hands about trying to find the word, “she came down here dressed like…” He sighed, “She’s so beautiful I can’t think straight, and she left with him,” 

“So you are jealous?” Max offered.

“No…yes, fuck yes I am jealous. I am so jealous I want to strangle him, I want her to look at me like that, she was humming!” He told his brother, throwing his hands up. “What the fuck is wrong with me? Shouldn’t I be happy that she’s happy? Even if it’s not with me? Isn’t that the mature thing to do?”

“Fuck the mature thing,” Max retorted looking at his brother like he was demented, “If some other guy made Maeve happier than me, I would want to throttle him with my bare hands,” 

“And that would solve what exactly?” Milo asked angrily.

“Absolutely nothing, which is why I would just work harder to make Maeve even happier with me.” He told his brother in a tone that suggested he thought Milo was an idiot.

“It’s not that simple!” Milo growled.

“Yes actually it is, if Daire makes her happy, you find a way to make her even happier,” Max told him.

“How?” Milo hissed, “I have no idea what I’m doing here, I thought I could be logical about this, but I don’t feel logical about her, I feel…crazy.” 

“Did you think you would be logical about her? Really?” Max asked him incredulously, “I’ve never had a single logical thought about Maeve, since the moment I met her, the closest was realizing I was going to marry her, and everyone else thought it was insane to do it so quickly.” 

“But Maeve felt the same way about you, this isn’t the same.” Milo replied miserably.

“You think Maeve just fell in my lap?” Max asked him, “You haven’t even made a move on Elle, you can’t be mad nothing is working, when you haven’t actually tried anything.” Milo looked at his brother surprised, he had a point.

“Maeve told me to be her friend,” Milo began.

“And more fool you for asking Maeve for dating advice, she’s only had one serious relationship and you're looking at it.” He told him humorlessly, “If we had done things at Maeve’s pace, you and I would be sharing this bachelor pad, taking turns pacing over our women.” 

“So what do you suggest?” Milo asked frustrated.

“Do what Daire did, ask the girl out.” Max told him.

“After everything that’s happened to her, I don’t want to come on too strong,” Milo reasoned.

“From the looks of it you’re not coming on at all, she’s not a mind reader, how is she supposed to know how you feel?”  Max told him.

“Everyone telling her I’m her soulmate wasn’t clear enough?” He asked his brother incredulously.

“Did you tell her? Have you shown her how seriously you take this soulmate business?” Max asked him. 

“What part should I tell her? That I bought and built this place for her? Or that every decision I’ve made since I was 5 was always with her in mind? Or should I tell her that since I laid eyes on her, two fucking days ago mind you, I can not focus on anything else, that seeing her makes my heart ache, that I want to kiss her more than I want to breathe, which is saying something since I remember what it feels like to be choked to death?” Milo raged at his brother. 

“...Yeah definitely don’t tell her any of that,” Max conceded, whistling under his breath, “I actually wish you hadn’t just told me any of that.”

“You are so helpful,” Milo said sarcastically, “This has been great, I don’t know what I would do without your sage advice.”

“How is it my fault that you can’t experience anything like a normal person?” Max hissed. “Can’t just have feelings for a woman, no you have to have super complicated past life feelings for her. Jesus.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Milo asked him hopelessly.

“Ask her out, low pressure, maybe like dinner?” Max offered, “Don’t ever tell her about knowing what it feels like to be choked to death, ever, in fact never tell anyone that.” 

“Dinner,” Milo repeated, “Just ask her on a date?”

“It's not complicated, think back to being in highschool,” Max offered frowning, “You’ve asked a woman out before right?”

“Of course,” Milo said deadpan, I have never asked a woman out in my life.

“See easy peasy, ask her out, take her to dinner, never ever talk about any of your past life deaths, ever! So easy.” Max told him.

“So easy,” Milo repeated, hiding his growing disquiet.

****

Daire was pulling out all the stops, amping up his charm. Theoretically Elle should be fully enthralled, but she was not. It was like watching a movie where you knew what was going to happen and were just waiting for the next thing, so you could get to the good part. But the problem was that Elle couldn’t decide what the good part was supposed to be. Everytime he touched her, it felt like a strategy on his part, calculated, designed to elicit something from her. But it never seemed to land. She could see what he was trying to do, and objectively he was masterful in his seduction skills, but it just was not doing anything for her. Her few awkward brushes with Milo had been enough to make her heart race, her hands shake and her breath catch, but Daire‘s objectively smoother advances…nothing. And it was frustrating her to no end. 

When Daire caught her fingers between his own entwining them, all Elle could think was that his hands weren’t as well formed as Milo’s. A nagging voice in her head kept telling her this was wrong, all wrong. Elle dutifully ignored it. The date seemed to go on forever, Elle smiling at the appropriate moments, all but forcing herself to soften toward him. But it couldn’t be helped, she felt nothing. By the end of the date, when Daire led her back to the bike, and rode home, Elle was relieved it was over. And hated herself for it.

When they dismounted at the cabin, she handed Daire his helmet back, and he clasped her hand where she held it for a moment, all she could think was that she wished he would let her go. 

They walked in silence back to the door, Daire‘s brow furrowed as he looked at her, Elle didn’t notice, because she hadn’t looked at him once since returning the helmet. At the front door, he caught her shoulder and turned her to face him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“If I tried to kiss you, how would you feel about that?” He asked her. Her face paled, and he nodded his head. “Never mind lass, you donna have to say anything.” 

“I’m sorry,” She breathed, “There’s nothing wrong with you, it is literally me, I’m just…” She gestured wildly. 

“A lot has happened to you lass, maybe I’ve come on too strong, put too much pressure on you, t’is not my intention. No’ my nature to convince a woman she wants me, either she does or she does nae. But there is something about you, I like you, I like being around you, no’ like this though, this date was, no’ good.” He breathed, “We take this slow, ken each other a bit better,” He told her, “No pressure,” 

“No pressure,” She repeated, sighing. “I like you too, I do actually enjoy your company,” She admitted, he smiled warmly at her.

“T’is a start,” He agreed, “Can I hug you?” She nodded her head, as he opened his arms to her. He pulled Elle close, but it was not a particularly intimate hug, he wrapped his arms around her warmly, giving her a firm squeeze that made her squeak in surprise. “We have to feed you more lass, I feel like I could break you,” He told her, releasing her, she laughed despite herself, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek lightly, brotherly. “Now hand over the jacket, lass, I was no’ playing.” 

****

From the angle Milo was in, coming back with groceries, the whole thing looked much less chaste. Daire and Elle coming apart after a heated embrace on his doorstep, Daire leaning down to kiss her, Elle laughing…he felt like he had been kicked in the chest. Without drawing attention to himself, Milo reversed out of his driveway and back on the road. Not sure where he was going, or what he was doing, but he could not go back to the house and see them together. 

He knew he had no right to feel the way he felt. Neither of them had done anything wrong, he wasn’t with Elle, though he wished desperately he were, it wasn’t Elle’s fault she didn’t feel for him what he felt for her. Daire was not wrong either, he didn’t believe they were soulmates, and so she was just a young, beautiful, single woman that he fancied. He knew that rationally, but it hurt all the same. He wanted her so much, and had for so long, only to have met her and had Daire swoop in? Where was the justice in that? He pounded his fist angrily on his steering wheel. He hadn’t even had a chance with her, nothing but a few stolen moments with her, and she was seeing Daire now? Kissing him…would it get serious? How would he bear this? The more he thought of it, the more he felt sick with jealousy. 

He would not bear it! Daire had gone on one date with her, one! That meant nothing, objectively. If Daire made her happy, he would just have to make her happier. Daire took her on a bike ride? How would she feel about taking a cruise in a ferrari? Take her to lunch? He’d fly in a five star chef and rent out a godverdomme mountain top. His mind started racing as he thought of all the things he could do to woo her. Whatever she wanted, he would give to her, money was no object for him. She was physically attracted to him, very much so, he thought back to her reaction to Daire, he hadn’t seen her ‘eye-bang’ him. He arched his eyebrows as he thought about the possibility, was she more physically attracted to him then she was to Daire? He almost crashed his car as a thought occurred to him, last night when she’d started shaking as they held hands…what if she had been shaking from…desire?! What if she’d pulled away from him because she was embarrassed?!! And he’d made the whole situation so much worse! He pulled over to the side of the road, and brushed an angry hand over his face. She wants me, she wants me so much she started shaking because I held her hand! And I rejected her! He was a special kind of stupid he decided. He wanted more from her than a physical relationship, but he could use her attraction to him to get her close, close enough to maybe want more.

A nagging cold thought occurred to him then, what if all she wanted from him was a physical relationship? Sex, but no intimacy? Could he give her that? Last night he had been prepared to be her friend, forever if that's what it took to have her in his life, intimacy without sex. Could he settle for either of those options? Was one of those options worse than the other? When he thought of her laughing smiling face, the way she looked as she came down the stairs, the way she looked when she gazed at the pool, the way her face relaxed in her sleep…he knew the answer. I would do anything, absolutely anything to have this woman in my life. 

****

By the time Milo had come back, the icecream he had bought had melted completely, and all the frozen items he had bought were ruined. But he didn’t care, he had a plan finally, an honest to god plan of attack for how he would win over Elle. It was well after midnight and Max had texted him several times calling him every name under the sun, for making them wait on groceries before they had decided to order pizza for dinner again. Milo genuinely did not care what any of them did for dinner, but had felt a pang at the idea of Elle going hungry.

He brought in the groceries that were not ruined quietly, and began putting them away, throwing away the rest. A decent amount had been saved, but he would have to go back in a day or two. 6 adults, 3 of them full grown men would plow through what he had bought quickly. 7 soon he corrected, Naomi would be down eventually, and he would have to go to the health food store for her.

 Naomi was severely celiac, and struggled to find things she liked and could eat. Naomi his beloved little sister, was actually the reason he had learned how to cook so well. When she’d first been diagnosed she had been so devastated that she could no longer eat her favorite foods, that Milo had went out of his way to find alternatives, and when he couldn’t, he had learned how to make them for her. Whenever she visited he had specialty ingredients shipped down ahead of her, and then spent several days making treats for her. Unfortunately his personal shopper had absolutely bolixed the whole damn thing up, but with any luck the health food store in town had what he needed, or he would have to have it flown in. 

He sighed heavily, being the reliable one meant that everyone expected him to take care of all the details of every situation. Whether it was making sure his home was stocked for Naomi, to planning and organizing family trips, to making sure all their mother’s bills were paid on time. He had even had to hire the consultants to get his sister Nadia into university in the states, and pay for her tuition. When she had decided to drop out, Milo had been the one who had to figure out her living situation after she refused to move back home. Even now, he was the only one who was expected to plan and get together the groceries to feed them all, by tomorrow he knew he would be the only one making them all dinner every night. They all expected him to find a way to entertain them as well, he had already purchased several streaming services, and organized a day trip to Banff for Maeve, Max and his mother.

 He debated staying up to unwind a bit, but Milo was exhausted, running on a handful of hours of sleep. He headed upstairs to his room, stopping just in front of her closed door. He stood there for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing his hand on his chest over his heart. Was she alright? Had they ordered something she liked? He hadn't even asked her if the room was to her liking, if she had enough blankets and pillows…I am the worst host. He decided that in the morning he would figure out what she needed, wanted and liked to make her as comfortable as possible. You will never want for anything, I will keep you so safe.That’s when he heard her screaming.

****

You will bend or you will break, it does not matter to me.  Your will married to mine, you are mine, now and for eternity, there is no escape. 

Red hair, pale skin, terror, so much terror. His eyes are stark as he looks at her from across the room, he can not hear what her new husband is saying to her. She can taste his helplessness, feel his impotent rage. Dark hair, eyes of gold…

Her husband palms her distended belly, disgust lining his face. Her baby, their baby…a bastard. His massive hand cups her face roughly, as he forces her eyes to his; cold and steely.

Mine, now and forever more. Say it, or it will die with him. 

All the air leaves her lungs, she is choking on fear, and hurt, regret, anguish, rage…love….

Yours, now and forever more.  His voice in her head, warm and safe, his hand on her flat belly…

You will watch him die, you will clean his blood, you will learn the price of your folly.

Close your eyes Princess, close them tight.  The whisper of his voice as he spends his last words protecting her, always protecting her. Always leaving her…

No, No, NOOO DON’T….

“DON’T LEAVE ME!” Elle shrieks, heart broken, they were taking him from her.

“Elle?” Milo’s voice called to her as if from afar, “ What is happening, schatje?” He whispered urgently to her, his big hand cupping her face, his other hand on her shoulder. Elle wrenched herself free of his grasp, turning around wildly in a circle frantically looking…for what? Her breaths came out in gasps, as she searched. “Elle?”

“Blood…blood everywhere,” She whispered, anguished, she glanced up looking at Milo with wild terror struck eyes, “They took him!” She said.

“Took whom?” He asked carefully, truly frightened for her.

“Rex…” She whispered, before her eyelids fluttered. Milo had less than a second to react as she suddenly went limp and dropped. He caught her just before she hit the floor.

****

He crumples the letter in his hand, enraged. More than a score has passed since he’d first seen his bride, but not once had he ever considered ending his betrothal. Partially due to the alliance it offered the empire, but also…intriguing, guileless and yet so tempting the girl had done something to him that no other had done before, she had made him…feel. When he’d stood before Gods and man and claimed her for his, the stormy eyed child had made him feel… So despite having made no efforts, or indeed any real indication that he wanted to collect his bride, he had never once thought to relinquish her, to end it, to let go of that feeling however fleeting and strange it had been. She is his, to do with whatever he pleased, even if what he pleased was making her sit and wait, untouched, unsullied, forever a child in his mind. 

So to receive this missive, this demand from his brother the Emperor to ‘Wed and bed the bitch, lest I  end this so I can find you someone else to Wed and bed!’... Nothing and no one would take what he has claimed for himself from him, not even his sworn liege. But angry though Hadeon is, he is no fool, going against his king is a capital offense. He must do his duty, and collect his bride. She would be over two score now, and soon she would be past the point of use, to sire him a child. Not that he cares much for a child, but the Emperor demanded such of him and so he must comply. Why he would want a child to one day usurp him, as he and his brother had their father…beyond him, but he’s cast his lot with Hadrian, and such is the way of things. 

He turns to the two girls laying in his bed, the younger one still sniffling, the older staring at the ceiling seemingly unseeing.

“Get out,” He barks, the younger one whimpers the older simply complies. Sisters, or cousins they look so similar, young but definitely not unsullied or pure, even before their mother sold them to him. He’d used them well, perhaps a bit harsher than he had paid for.

He can’t think over the mewling cries of the one. He’d only taken them to his bed because of their eyes, muddied gray. Pale at best imitations of his bride, but they were young, and he could pretend. The crying had made it easier to imagine…He watches with mild interest as the older helps the younger back into her robes, gingerly avoiding her new bruises. Soothing her with soft words and hurried movements to quit his presence as quickly as possible. Such gentleness is foreign to him, all tenderness is foreign to Hadeon. Pain and bloodshed that’s all he knows, even in bedplay. He frowns as he considers, his bride is not a whore to be used in such a manner, perhaps he should learn…Learn?! Learn what? How to be a weakling who considers the wants and needs of a meer woman?... She will bend or she will break, it does not matter to me. She will learn to please me as I see fit, and she will be all and everything I want and more! 

Still…a needling voice whispers in his mind, that of a young boy who just wants affection and love. Who instead was given the back of a hand, and a kick in the ass…Still don’t you want…more? He sucks a breath in between his teeth, something strange and pained tightens his chest and shallows his breaths…yes…yes he wants more. He wants…

He grasps the bag of coin sitting upon his desk, and hands it to the older girl, she stares at him confused. 

“Hide that from your mother, lest she spends it on drink and opium,” He mutters, “Feed her and yourself instead.” The girl bows and he dismisses her with a wave of his hand. Brows furrowing even as he watches them leave, discomforted by his own charity…why on earth did he just do that? This is their lot in life, to be used and discarded, why should he care if their mother steals their money and starves them? For that matter why does he suddenly feel…shamed for how cruel he was to the younger one? The strong ruled the weak, the able took from those who were not! That is the way of the world!

Still…the voice whispers, gentle and hopeful…still…

Whore…his bride is the same as all the rest, a worthless, filthy whore! They present her to him, round with child, sullied, rotten, used, fucking bespoiled!! Rage such as he has never experienced fills him, he has been cuckolded! CUCKOLDED!!! By a fucking centurion, lowly and baseborn! With great care he keeps his face neutral, unbothered even as he wishes to rend her limb from limb, to cut this…thing from her belly and leave her to bleed. How could she?! She is MINE! How could she give herself to another?!

HOW CAN SHE KEEP GIVING HERSELF TO ANOTHER?!

****

You are MINE! He wakes enraged, infuriated, grasping his hair in his hands, as he launches from her bed, and begins throwing things around again. Breaking, ripping, destroying, screaming his untenable anger and wrath…Fucking whore! Where the fuck are you?! When I find you…

He sat down heavily, trying to calm his raging mind. He had been trying to triangulate where she was, and who he was since that night in the alley, barely sleeping, barely eating. Going so far as to find her family, he’d spent hours staking out her parent’s house thinking that maybe she might reach out to them. He should have known better there was no way he would have allowed her out of his sight. Wherever she was it was with him, now if he could only figure out who he was! There was no use trying to delve any further into her pathetic little life, he’d plucked her right out from under his nose. He had to find out who he was if he had any hope at all of finding her, of stopping him from winning, yet again. For that was how he saw it, a contest of wills between the two of them, and it didn’t particularly matter to him if he didn’t know they were in a competition, he’d take any advantage he could get. After all…its not like you ever played fair when it came to her either…

****

Elle could not stop shaking, no matter how many blankets Milo wrapped them in. He sat on the floor of her room, holding her in his arms, her curled against him between his legs. She pressed her face into his chest, tears streaming from her uncontrollably. He whispered reassuring, calming words to her, as he ran his hand up and down her back comfortingly. She had both her hands fisted into his shirt, his other hand over both of hers. 

“I don’t want to be in this room anymore,” She whispered brokenly to him. Without a word, he wrapped the bundle of blankets surrounding them firmly around her, standing up with her in his arms. She pressed her face into his chest again, as he carried her toward the door. 

“Please…please don’t let anyone see me like this.” She pleaded. Milo stopped at the door, thinking for a moment.

“I’m…I’m going to take you to my room alright?” He told her gently, “No one will come in there,” He assured her. 

“Don’t…don’t leave me.” She whimpered. 

“Never,” He told her fiercely, unconsciously tightening his grip on her. He walked out the door, and turned right toward his bedroom. Elle was too distraught to find the humor at the moment in the realization that his room was literally next door to hers. She kept her face pressed into his shirt as he walked into his room, taking her what seemed a long way inside it. He gently sat down on what she assumed was his bed, holding her still. “I’m going to turn on the light, and close my door now, but I’ll be right back.” He told her extracting himself, she grabbed onto him refusing to let go,

“Don’t go,” She whispered in terror. He placed his big hands gently over hers.

“I have to close the door Elle, but I promise I won’t even be gone a second,” He assured her, he cupped her face tenderly between his hands,running his thumb against her jaw. “My brave schatje,” He lightly kissed her forehead, “I would never leave you,” She released his shirt, shaking harder as she did so. “That’s it, look at me,” She looked up at him, meeting his blue eyes with her tear filled brown, “Keep looking at me, I’m right here.” She nodded slowly, he ran his thumbs over her cheeks ever so softly wiping away her tears. He gave her a look of such deep tenderness, that it made her heart ache. He got up from the bed, and quickly made his way to the door. Elle watched his retreating back, as he sprinted across the large room, shutting the door, darkening the room.

“Don’t…don’t turn on the light,” She whispered, as she saw him move toward the wall. He stopped, and turned to look at her. 

“Are you sure?” He asked her. A sob tore out of her, and he rushed back to her, climbing onto the bed, pulling her back in his arms. He sat up with his back against his headboard, and her between his legs, clasped to him. She sobbed into his chest, her whole body trembling, he reached around them and grabbed the comforter from under them, covering them both with it. She couldn’t seem to get warm. She unfisted one of her hands from the front of his shirt, and curled it up his shirt, placing her hand flat against his chest. Milo sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact, his body reacting involuntarily to her touch. He moved her subtly, so that she wouldn’t feel just how much. She clung to him, the hand still fisted in his shirt grasping harder. He cradled her head to his chest,lightly pushing her hair back from her face. Hadn’t he just wished this morning he could hold her again? Not like this, never like this though. Her anguish was like a knife in his chest. He would have rather never touched her again than to have her be this terrorized. 

They stayed like that for what seemed hours, until gradually her breath stopped hitching, and became deep and even. She softened in his arms, and her trembling had ceased. Milo realized without looking down that she had cried herself to sleep on him. He held her still, afraid that if he moved her or himself he would wake her. Her petite frame felt fragile and so delicate in his arms, not for the first time he considered how easy it would have been for someone to hurt her. Unconsciously he drew her closer at the thought. He had refused to think about what happened that night in the alley for days now, because when he did it made him tremble with fear and impotent fury. He could see the subtle redness around her neck from where she had been choked, but steadfastly refused to allow himself to acknowledge or think about it, it had faded in a day and was now gone. He absently ran his finger tips against her throat where the mark had been. 

He felt like the worst kind of selfish asshole, she had been attacked brutally and all he could think about was how to seduce her? What the hell was wrong with him? She was having such violent nightmares that she had jumped out of bed screaming, disoriented, still in the dream when he had found her. The look of fear, panic and anguish so raw on her face he had thought for a second that Hadeon had found her, and was in the room somewhere. He frowned as he remembered what she had said as she was asleep, blood, blood everywhere, they took him…Rex. He jerked up with the realization, dawning horror and comprehension on his face, as he looked down at her. She had dreamt about Rex…about the execution!

All the color drained from his face, his heart aching for her. He never wanted her to remember Rex, never. Of all the lifetimes of memories he had, Rex and Laila were both the most potent and also the most vague. Whenever he cast his memory back and tried to focus he saw it as hazy and mired, but the feelings were so strong he sometimes felt like he was physically back there. He couldn’t see either his own face or Laila’s face, vague impressions of red hair, pale skin for Laila, but he couldn’t see her eyes, or anything particular about her facial features. With Rex it was black hair, so dark it hinted at blue, and gold eyes, maybe facial hair, but it felt like looking through a distorted reflection. Which he supposed made sense, as Rex would never have seen himself except through his reflection in a lake or some other body of water, or maybe a warped mirror? Remembering those memories physically hurt sometimes, and became so overwhelming he would have migraines for days, so he rarely if ever glanced back there. As a child he had seen it much clearer he thought or else it caused him less pain, because he had been able to tell his mother a considerable amount about Rex and Laila, they had even taken to calling his soulmate Laila. It had never felt right though, despite everyone's belief to the contrary Milo did not want to relive his old lives, he wanted to live this one. With her…always with her. 

And now she was dreaming about Rex? More particularly his execution? A memory that he himself had never been able to see all the way through without violently retching, and not feeling right for days after. Milo had memories of being shot, stabbed, drowned, choked, crushed and a heart attack, but the memory of Rex’s death was absolutely the worst one. He shuddered as he thought about Elle seeing it, there would have been blood everywhere, on her pale skin as she was forced to kneel down to clean up the mess…He closed his eyes pushing the thought away harshly. He ran his fingers through her hair absently to soothe himself. Had she had nightmares about Rex before? He remembered her jumpy demeanor from the previous night when she had been startled by him in the kitchen. He had passed it off as not having expected to find him downstairs so late at night, but now, now he wondered. Did she wake up screaming…alone? He hated that, hated the thought of her being this afraid, by herself. The rooms were all well insulated and effectively soundproof, if he hadn’t been standing in front of her door, he never would have heard her. His skin crawled at the thought of her all alone terror struck. Would she have sought him out for comfort or maybe Daire? No…she had asked him, pleaded with him not to let anyone else see her like this. If he hadn’t been right there, right at the right moment…he shuttered. He never wanted her to be alone to handle something so horrific again. If he couldn’t shoulder it for her, he wanted to at least hold her through the worst of it. 

“Mijn hart klopt nu buiten mijn lichaam Elle, want het is van jou, voor dit leven en alle anderen.” He whispered to her, one day he would tell her, as he had before in another lifetime, in English, so she would have no doubts. 

****

Elle jerked awake, from a dreamless sleep. She had fallen asleep curled up like a ball, her body pressed against something warm and firm. She looked up to confirm her suspicious, yup this poor man has become my fucking pillow. Light streamed in from the open windows around them, drawing his sleep relaxed face into relief. Her breath sighed out at the sight of him, no man should look so beautiful she thought. He had fallen asleep sitting up with his back still pressed into his headboard, his arms still wrapped around her. Her hand against his chest over his comforting heartbeat. He couldn’t possibly have been comfortable in his position, but he had held her all night. Her chest felt tight with tenderness for him.  As if feeling her reverie he opened his eyes, blinking the sleep from them, disoriented, taking in his surroundings expressionless. But when he looked down at her, his face softened instantly, he smiled at her with such warmth and kindness it made her breath catch. 

Milo gently brushed the hair back from her face, sweeping it behind her ear. Elle jerked in surprise at the unexpected touch slamming the top of her head up into Milo’s face. He blinked dazed as blood began gushing from his nose.

“Fuck,” He growled, pushing his hand to the flow to staunch it. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Elle began mortified, he waved his good hand dismissively, as he vaulted from his bed, and moved quickly toward a door on the right hand side of the room. Elle followed him with her eyes, horrified at what had just happened. She sprang from the bed and quickly exited his room, closing the door behind her. She pressed her back to it for a second on the outside, groaning. I can not be around that man for any length of time without making an ass of myself!!

“Wha…what are you doing?” Max asked her, peering at her from his opened door down the hall.

“Nothing,” She said, startled, jumping.

“Why are you leaning on Milo’s door?” He asked her, walking out of his room toward her. “Why are you wearing the same clothes…OH MY GOD!!”  Elle’s face flushed, horror struck. “YOU ARE WALK OF SHAMING!!”

“It’s not what you think!” She barked at him, “Shut up before you wake everyone up!”

“You guys are fooling around, I told you the California king was a way better bet than the couch!” He continued unrepentantly. 

“I…we…didn’t…” She began beyond mortified by this turn of events.

“Literally zero judgment zusje, go get you some.” He told her, barely containing his mirth.

“I’m not getting anything, I just…we just…” She began again desperate to have him shut up.

“What is the saying? Did you blow out his back?” He asked her, actively laughing now.

“I hate you,” She hissed. Pushing past him now to go to her room. 

“Good thing the rooms are sound proof,” He called after her, “Seems like you had a fun night!”  

Elle firmly shut the door in his face, now presented with the full length mirror, she groaned at the sight of herself. No wonder Max thought they’d fooled around, Elle looked like a disheveled mess. Her hair was sleep tumbled, sticking up in places, she was wearing the same outfit she had worn while having dinner with them the previous night, a gray henley shirt and black sweatpants. Both of which were rumpled and riding up in different spots. Part of the cup and black strap of her bra clearly exposed against the opened buttons of the top, looking like she’d haphazardly tossed them on before sneaking out of a clandestine hook up. Her face looked puffy, and she had dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept at all. Great, now his entire family is going to think we are fooling around, 3 days after meeting. Fantastic! Might as well paint a giant letter A on my shirt, like the hoe I’ve apparently presented myself as. She thought savagely. 

As if this wasn’t bad enough, she had also managed to maim Milo…again. This time drawing blood. She clasped her face in her hands, and sat down hard on the floor in front of the mirror. She had cried on him, again, slept on him, again, and then given him a bloody nose. All because she’d had one lousy nightmare, he must just think she was the weakest, saddest, weepiest of bitches. Ugh I want to die!

She heard the light knocking on her door.

“Elle, are you in here?” Ute asked, was that amusement she heard in the older woman’s voice? “Would you like to get breakfast with me?” Avoid having to face Milo and Max? Elle seized on the idea, even if she wasn’t particularly thrilled with Ute at the moment. 

“Absolutely I would! Let me get changed!” She called back, jumping up to get ready.

“I’ll meet you by the front door, in say 30 mins?” Ute asked.

“15!” Elle called back, smoothing her hair down hurriedly, the sooner she could leave the better.

****

Once Milo managed to get his nose to stop bleeding and had cleaned up the mess, he exited his on-suite bathroom to see his bed vacant. Fuck. He hadn’t really expected her to stay, but...his room felt so much emptier without her in it. Leave it to him to bleed all over the first woman he’d ever taken to his bed, he thought annoyed. He sighed, she had started apologizing before he had dashed to the bathroom, he was in such a hurry not to make a disaster of her, his bed or his floor that he hadn’t stopped to acknowledge her at all.  

No matter, he would have a chance to speak with her at breakfast, make sure she was alright, that he hadn’t ruined her clothes the way he’d definitely ruined his own. The white tee shirt he’d been wearing was unsalvageable, Elle had a hard skull he mused. He had thought she might have broken his nose, but fortunately she had not. He pulled his bloodied shirt off, tossing it into the hamper he had in his neatly organized closet, reaching in for another when he heard someone knocking on his door. He went to open it.

Maeve stood at the door, her red hair plaited back, in her workout clothes. 

“Are you no’ ready for our run this morning?” She asked, arching a brow at his disheveled appearance, barely stifling a grin, Milo always, always looked put together, that was until the last few days, when he often looked like he had been angrily running his hands through his hair. Today he looked like he hadn’t slept, and was wearing the same jeans from the night before. 

“Uh,” He began, he had completely forgotten about his and Maeve’s long standing morning run tradition. Whenever they were together for more than a few days they would start running together in the morning, Maeve had once been a distance runner, while Milo abhorred Cardio, but her enthusiasm for the thing often kept him motivated and it had become an unspoken bond between the two. He ran an exhausted hand down his face, leaning into his doorframe, “Yeah, let me get…” The words died in his mouth as Elle stepped out of her room. Back in those damned tight jeans, and a tight lavender tee shirt that just grazed the top of her jeans, they made eye contact. 

Elle stopped dead, barely able to stop herself from dropping her jaw at the sight of him. If she had thought seeing him shirtless from the bedroom window had been something, this was like a sucker punch to the gut. Up close his body was magnificent, toned and defined, proportionate without being bulky. His broad shoulders corded with muscle, one arm flexed with effort from him pressing it against the door frame leaning into it, the other raised pushing his hair back from his perfect face. His well defined torso led down into an 8 pack that made her toes curl with desire, he even had v-lines! Perfectly highlighted by his low slung jeans, which clung lovingly to his muscular thighs. As she lifted her eyes from his mouth watering body to his face, she flushed realizing that he was definitely not looking at her face either. His own eyes were firmly planted on her fitted jeans, and tight t-shirt, clothes she had haphazardly grabbed without any thought. 

“Elle,” He breathed her name, sending shivers down her spine. His voice was still sleep roughened, a half octave lower than normal. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, as he absently ran his hand over his mouth. And when he looked up piercing her with his startling blue eyes, Elle’s legs almost went out from under her. No man had ever looked at her with such raw intensity before. 

“Elle, are you coming?” Ute called from downstairs, breaking her reverie. Elle jumped, her face flaming with embarrassment, she had not even noticed Maeve standing in front of her, a wildly amused expression on her beautiful face.  Without another word, Elle turned and all but ran down the stairs.

Milo barely stifled a groan at the sight of her retreating back, her generous curves moving so sensuously as she hustled down the stairs. He had stepped from the room to continue watching her as she moved out of sight, completely enraptured. Imagining his hands on her generous backside, lifting her against him, as her legs wrapped around him…

“I see you’ve taken up the ‘eye-banging’ as well brathair” Maeve commented amused, Milo started, he had completely forgotten about her. His own face flushed now.

“I don’t suppose you’d believe I was just making sure she didn’t fall?” He asked sheepishly,looking at his sister-in-laws amused face. 

“So you could pounce on her maybe,” Maeve agreed, “I can nae believe I have to say this to you of all people, but keep your eyes in your head,” 

“I am trying,” He groaned at her. She burst out laughing, taking in his tormented face.

“Nay danger of you succeeding,” She told him, “Oh you have it so bad for that lass,” 

“What do I do here Maeve?” He asked, blowing out a frustrated breath.

“Well what you do first is put a shirt on,” Max told him, coming up the stairs. “Then you tell us exactly what happened between the two of you last night?” 

“Last night? What happened last night?” Maeve asked, turning to her husband, and then back to his twin.

“I don’t know, but Elle was sneaking out of Milo’s room this morning.” He told his wife.

“Nothing…” Milo began, horrorstruck.

“Listen, you are both adults, I’m not here to lecture you broertje,” Max interrupted his tone stern.

“Oh but you’ll venture to get past your trepidations and lecture the shit out of me anyways,” Milo finished for him sarcastically. “Nothing happened between us like that, as for what did happen, that’s quite honestly none of your fucking business.”

“She slept in your room last night?” Maeve asked, arching her eyebrows. “That's a bit…fast, no?”

“I swear to Christ if either of you say one negative word to her about this,” Milo began infuriated.

“We would never,” Maeve told him firmly, frankly insulted he would assume such of her.

“Besides I’m not judging her,” Max retorted, “It's you that needs a good slap!” Milo blinked in surprise at the vehemence of his brother’s tone.

“What?” He asked, taken aback.

“I told you to take her on a date, not to bed,” His twin glowered at him, “She’s in a vulnerable state, you weren’t there, you didn’t see how shaken she was, he destroyed everything she had, you are taking advantage of her right now, and I had thought better of you broertje.” He chastised.

“What do you mean he destroyed everything? You told he tossed her apartment, and stole her underwear, the fuck Max! Why do you keep insisting on keeping important information from me?” He growled at his twin, furious himself.

“Because everytime I talk about that night it makes me sick! And you look like you're going to punch a hole in my head instead of the wall,” Max informed him, aggrieved.

“Everything she brought with her…that’s all she has left?” Milo asked, feeling the air leave his lungs.

“Aye,” Maeve answered heavily, “He took everything, destroyed her graduation dress for god sakes, for what reason?” 

“Just to hurt her, to hurt you.” Max told him, “She’s an artist, and he destroyed all her art supplies, literally smashed every bottle of paint and ink on her floor, snapped her paintbrushes, individually.” Milo looked like he had been slapped.

“Not to mention what he said to that poor lass when he had her against that wall,” Maeve sighed sadly.

“He…he spoke to her?” Milo asked, all color leaving his face.

“Fuck Maeve!” Max hissed, turning to her aggravated. “He doesn’t need to know this…”

“Tell me,” Milo demanded, “For god sakes will you stop coddling me!”

“He told her he would break her, that he would…make her wish she was dead,” Maeve told him, her eyes haunted. But there was more, he knew instinctively his mind went back to the morning when Daire had arrived, when he had taunted her with what he had heard her scream in his head. Milo staggered back, horror marring his face, as he leaned into his door frame for support. No, no, not that, anything but that.

“He was going to…” He whispered brokenly to them both, as they stared at him apprehensively, his eyes blazed with fury, “I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him with my bare fucking hands.” 

“Easy brathair,” Maeve began gently, “You can nae lose your wits over this,”

“No wonder she’s having nightmares,” He continued infuriated.

“Nightmares?” Max asked, surprised.

“She…was not sleeping well,” Milo offered, unwilling to divulge her state last night, please…please don’t let anyone see me like this. Her heartbreaking voice had whispered. “I…offered to let her sleep in my room with me,” 

“How chivalrous of you,” Max said sardonically, “Did you think your cock would make her feel better?” He glowered at his brother.

“Sleep, as in go to sleep. Nothing else happened,” He threw back at his brother.

“I’m warning you Milo, your my little brother, and I love you, but I will kick six shades of shit out of you if you take advantage of that poor woman, she does not need your dick to cure her ills.” Max threw back at him, his tone firm and aggravated.

“Fuck you,”  Milo retorted indignantly, “Do you think that’s how I would want to be with her? Using her while she’s terrified? Honestly if you think so lowly of me, you can get the fuck out of my house,” 

“Oh I’m not going anywhere, I’m going to be right here watching out for her, because apparently someone has to, between you and Daire, treating her like she’s a choice piece…” He yelled back at his twin, vibrating with anger.

“Speaking of Daire, you’ve given him this fucking fatherly lecture I presume?” Milo barked at his brother, “Because I’m not the one who came on to her so strong she cried, or kissed her!”

“Oh I’ve had words with that son of…” Max began jaw clenched.

“Careful!” Maeve warned, “He may be a slut but he’s still my brathair, and I’ll be the one to kick six shades of shit out of him if he crosses the line with Elle,” She finished.

“So kissing her on my front porch, that’s not crossing the line? You are both hypocrites!” Milo snapped at both of them.

“We did no’ snog, '' Daire said, leaning against his own door frame rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The younger man clad only in his boxers.

“I am not doing this!” Milo growled throwing his arms up, “I’m a grown man, this is my fucking house, you are not going to lecture me about…wait you didn’t kiss her?” He said as what Daire said penetrated his rage-addled mind.

“No, we did no’ kiss.” He told Milo easily, “If you’re jealous just say that, no need to embellish…”

“I saw you on the porch,” Milo cut him off, annoyed. 

“As creepy as that is, you did no’ see us kiss, because we did no’ kiss. I hugged the lass, and kissed her on the cheek, same as I would my granny if you must know.” He told Milo, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re really going to try and say you didn’t try and kiss her?” Max asked sarcastically.

“Did I say I did no’ try?” Daire threw back annoyed, “Listen that lass is in a right state, I like her, she’s special, I do no’ want to hurt her, she’s no’ ready for that.” Max rounded on Milo glaring death at him.

“Whose the fucking hypocrite now? Even Daire is restraining himself!” Max told Milo his tone was unmistakably accusatory.

“Even Daire? you lot make me sound like I’m out and about pecker out taking all comers!” Daire grumbled angrily.

“If the whore shoe fits brathair,” Maeve told him sweetly, “You can no’ sit here and pretend our bums are out the windae, when you’ve presented yourself a certain way,”

“Aye, there is that.” Daire agreed, smirking. “I’ve prowled a bit,”

“A bit,” Maeve repeated incredulously, “Daire I have scarcely a friend you haven’t parted me from, with your pecker, you siursach!” 

“Not familiar with that one love?” Max asked, “sounded mean, good for you!”

“Prostitute,” Daire and Maeve informed him.

“A term he’s quite familiar with,” Maeve added, glaring at her brother.

“What did I do? I did nae even kiss the girl!” Daire asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I can nae win with you,”

“Keep your peckers to yourselves, both of you!” Maeve commanded fiercely, glaring from Daire to Milo.

“No point warning him, he’s likely as no’ to have even seen his own todger much less ken what to do with it,” Daire retorted jovially, clearly unaffected by his sister and brother-in-law's ire. 

“That’s where you're wrong, my siursach of a brother has her…” Max began, turning to face Daire, Milo moved so fast he had Max pressed against the wall between his bedroom and Elle’s before he could finish his sentence.

“Shut. the. Fuck. up.” Milo spat at him, in a dangerously low tone. His forearm pinning his twin’s throat against the wall.

“Are you going to hit me this time, or put another hole in your fucking wall?” Max asked him all bravado, even though he was startled by his brother’s unexpected temper.

“You say whatever you want about me, but you shut your godverdomme mouth about her, do you understand me?” Milo asked his brother, his eyes glinting with barely restrained rage. 

“Get your hands off me Milo, I’m getting really sick of you slamming me against walls,” He hissed at his twin, shoving him back, unable to move him even a inch.

“Keep your mouth shut about Elle,” He warned again, “Next time it’ll be my fist in your face, not your head against a wall, are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Max hissed, pushing against his brother’s arm, Milo held him firm for another second, before releasing him. He turned to storm away from them, never looking back before he slammed his bedroom door shut. Daire, Maeve and Max stood in shocked silence, looking at each other.

“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Daire asked finally, arching an eyebrow, “Namely how long has that bawbag been hiding that body? I’m no poofter but shite, get a load of that!”  Both Maeve and Max turned to him incredulously. “What? Am I wrong?” 

“No,” Maeve replied finally, to which Max turned to glare at her. “Tis just an observation!” She said, holding her hands up.

“How did he get so much tricep definition?” Daire asked to no one in particular, “Bloody impressive,”

“He won’t fucking tell me.” Max conceded, annoyed. “Worthless twin.” He mumbled under his breath.

****

Breakfast with Ute was quickly becoming an interesting experience. She took Elle to a small diner in town, and then proceeded to order for both of them. Surprisingly ordering exactly what Elle would have ordered if the older woman hadn’t. Elle suspected it wasn’t a guess, and that somehow Ute knew what she liked. 

“So, adjusting well?” Ute asked her, once their breakfasts had arrived. 

“As well as can be expected,” She replied, evenly.

“Umm, and how do you like your room?” Ute asked her serenely. 

Elle smiled awkwardly, I’ve found myself sleeping with your son twice…so…

“It’s…nice.” She offered lamely.

“Haven’t been in there much though, prefer my son to the bed,” Ute replied, sipping her tea, eyeing Elle over the rim. Elle choked on her own coffee. “Oh do be careful liefje,” She said, barely hiding her amusement as she pushed a glass of water toward Elle, who took it quickly, coughing.

“It…that’s…to say.” Elle sputtered, face flaming. “Nothing…”

“Oh I know, I’m simply…teasing you.” The older woman told her, smiling. “Forgive me, Max does get this humor from somewhere you know.”

“We aren’t…” She began furiously embarrassed, “It’s not like that, he doesn’t…”

“Oh but he does,” Ute told her, smirking. “But I suspect you wouldn’t believe it even if he said it himself, and he won’t say it because he’s determined not to make you uncomfortable.” 

“He definitely does not have those kinds of feelings for me, and if he did he doesn’t now.” Elle told her firmly, “This is so weird, I should not be having this conversation with his mother,” She said under her breath.

“You do have a shortage of people you can talk to about this, and who would know him better than his own mother?” Ute offered. “Surely you’re curious about him?

“Did you invite me to breakfast so I could ask you questions about your son?” Elle asked startled, this was decidedly not getting away from Milo.

“If that’s what you want to talk about, he is a…fascinating topic.” Ute told her, sardonically.

“Not according to Daire,” Elle mumbled.

“My son is very reserved, you would have to be willing to look very, very deep to see him. Not everyone has that kind of consideration. But you do, don’t you Elle. You see what everyone else ignores, always.” Ute said with such surety in her voice, it sent a chill down Elle’s spine. Elle had a fierce and fiery personality, she was the type of person that others had strong feelings about, positive or wildly negative, mostly negative if she was being honest. But those she drew close to her, the people she valued, always said she was the person they felt the most comfortable with. That she had a way of making them feel seen, and heard, as if she could look right into the soul of them and knew them. How had David put it? Intuitive AF, with just the right amount of asshole to know you're not kissing anyone's ass. Elle had rolled her eyes at the time, but there was truth to it, she said what she said, but she would rip someone's throat out for hurting someone she loved. 

“I don’t know about always,” Elle muttered back.

“Don’t be modest,” Ute told her perceptively, “You can read people very well, so what do you see when you see my son?” Elle’s face flushed, I’ve seen nothing I’d want to repeat to his mother. She thought wildly. Ute smiled warmly at her, “It’s obvious my sons are very attractive men, but there’s so much more to them, Elle, especially Milo. He has such depth, even if he comes across as a bit cold and distant,maybe even a little bland or boring” Elle frowned at that, cold and distant was not in any way how she would describe Milo. He was warm, charming, and funny, oh so funny. He was intense,considerate, and kind, and…fascinating. So why did Daire and even his own mother think he was boring?

“You disagree?” Ute asked, her tone a bit chilled.

“He’s not boring, or bland, and I can’t imagine why anyone would think he was cold,” Elle told her slightly irritated, “He is…intense, thoughtful, really funny…”

“Funny?” Ute said surprised, she had never particularly considered Milo to be that funny, he had a dry sense of humor when he chose to show it she supposed. But her son was always so closed off, to everyone. 

“Yeah, he’s really funny.” Elle said, remembering the night on the couch and the breakfast they’d shared together before Daire had ruined it. She frowned again as she realized that she did feel like Daire had ruined their time together. As she thought about it she remembered the way Milo’s face had lit up with good humor as he’d made her eggs, the way they’d bantered back and forth. Was he not…like this with everyone? Now that she thought about it, all her interactions with Milo had been alone, or when he was in a heightened state of emotion. She actually had never seen him at neutral with anyone else, and as she was beginning to suspect, the way he was with her was not the same neutral he had with others.

“Hmm,” Ute said, sipping her tea, her expression enigmatic. “He is very kind, and considerate,” She said finally agreeing. “A bit detached,” Elle again frowned, not liking the way Ute spoke about Milo, irrationally getting a bit angry. 

The way he had held her last night as she had cried, gently rubbing her back, whispering words of comfort, in Dutch and english…there wasn’t anything detached about that. The way he’d laid blankets on her on the couch, and turned up the heat the minute he’d seen she was cold, how he had asked her to stay and keep him company…her heart ached as she realized he was lonely. He was surrounded by people, and he was still lonely. His own mother doesn’t really know him. She thought sadly, before she quickly brushed the thought aside. Wasn't it much more likely that Elle was simply wrong? That the woman that had borne him and had known him for somewhere between 2 and 3 decades might know him just a little more than she did? I don’t even know how old he is! She thought, irritated with herself. She swept her hair behind her ear, composing herself. 

“Shall we get the cheque,” Elle asked finally, having barely touched her breakfast. Ute smiled at her knowingly, but said nothing, simply nodding her head, and raising her hand for the waitress’s attention.

****

After breakfast, Ute suggested they pick up whatever odds and ends Elle needed since they were in town. So they headed over to a department store and spent an hour or so wandering about. Never once did their conversation head back to Milo, and Elle was grateful for that. While she was very curious about Milo, she had to admit that the way his mother spoke about him was disconcerting and frankly aggravating. Elle didn’t want to think about the reasoning but his mother’s dismissive cool tone about his personality had rubbed her the wrong way. She knew she had no right to feel that way, but she couldn’t help herself. Anytime she thought about his mother calling him detached, or cold, she remembered waking up in his arms, with him sitting up pressed against his headboard,and still managing to smile at her when he woke up. She pushed the thought out of her head, because while it warmed her to think about that, it gave her the worst cringe to remember she had headbutted him mere moments later. Hate myself sooo much.

Elle felt as if Ute was watching her quite intensely as they wandered through the store, but whenever she would look up Ute would be nowhere to be seen, or else actively engaged in something else. Their conversation was mostly light and Ute encouraged her to look at whatever she liked, allowing Elle to browse through the store, saying nothing when she had strayed to the electronics department and stared wistfully for an embarrassingly long time at the Macbook Pro of her dreams. When Elle had idly ran her fingers over the meager art supplies in the stationary section Ute had just watched her. But when Elle had turned to speak with her the older woman had wandered off to the book section. Finally once Elle had picked a few toiletries, more underwear and two paperback books to tide her over, they left.

As they walked back toward the car, Elle saw a tea shop, and stopped outside to window shop for a second,Ute however opened the door and walked in. Elle shrugged following her in. It was a loose tea retailer, with dozens of canisters lining the back wall behind a counter. Ute wasted no time in picking out several teas, muttered under her breath about piss tea, Elle almost snorted but restrained herself. 

Spotting a cheap matcha kit, Elle picked it up and sighed, she loved Matcha and she was pretty sure her set had been broken in the destruction of her apartment. She shuddered at the memory, but brushed it aside, still not ready to think about that. She placed it on the counter and then picked out a few small satchels of loose matcha that the girls behind the counter gladly packed for her, casting side-eye at the poor unfortunate soul who had to serve Ute. Ute had several canisters open in front of her and was happily ordering large portions of each. Including a truly exuberant amount of premium ceremonial matcha, which the girl scooped wide eyed into a large metal container for her, asking several times if Ute was sure she wanted that much. 

Elle winced at the price tag, but didn’t comment, moving on to completing her own transaction, but the girls behind the counter were now openly gawking at Ute, completely ignoring Elle. Elle stifled a grin, resigning herself as she watched the show with them. Once Ute had finally picked out all the teas she wanted and the girl was done packing them, sweating from the effort, she began ringing the items in, pausing now and then to inform Ute of some in store coupon or credit she was eligible for due to the large order. In the end the order was roughly more than the cost of Elle’s dream laptop. Elle stared wide eyed and shocked as Ute, handed over her card with a smile and a thank you. With her transaction complete the girls finally seemed to come out of their reverie and finished Elle’s order, pennies worth in comparison to Ute’s bill. Elle sighed, if that wasn’t a frank and harsh reminder of the difference between herself and their family, she didn’t know what was. Dreaming, truly dreaming if you think you know this man better than his own family, you’re not even in the same league as them. 

****

Milo ran laps in his pool, pushing himself hard. He couldn’t seem to get a handle on his temper, and foul mood. He had lashed out at his brother, again, and while he could see objectively that it was probably not warranted, he did not feel any remorse for the action. The idea of it becoming family gossip that Elle had spent the night in his room, infuriated him. He would not have her be subjected to anyone’s negative view, especially since she had done absolutely nothing to deserve it, except accepting his comfort. It really was no one's business but theirs, and he didn’t see why everyone was so fascinated by it. Really? You can’t see why everyone would be fascinated by YOU taking a woman to your bed, 3 days after having met? His lips quirked despite himself, honestly it must seem newsworthy to everyone, it was deeply out of character for him. 

“Are you going to hide out here all day son?” Ute called in dutch leaning against the railing on the steps leading up to the pool. Milo didn’t stop, barely acknowledging her, still furious at her for not telling him everything that had happened to Elle that night. “Don’t you want to know how my breakfast with your little mate went?” She asked. He stopped at that, treading water as he considered.

“Did you tell her something important and then keep several key details out so she could make an ass of herself too or is that just something you reserve for me?” He asked her sarcastically in Dutch, turning to face her. She smiled serenely in that annoying indulgent way she had done since he was a child.

“She thinks you're really funny,” She told him, arching a brow, “And she took great offense when I said some not so nice things about you.” Milo swam toward her, placing his arms on the edge of the pool, he rested his chin on top of his hands.

“Go on,” He told her. Ute smiled knowingly as she leaned forward and began telling him about her interesting time with his little soul mate. Sometimes even the most stoic people needed a nudge after all.

****

Elle had debated calling David after her breakfast with Ute, but had decided against it. What exactly am I to say to him? ‘Let me tell you about this gorgeous billionaire I'm stuck in this mansion cabin with! And this redheaded man from my dreams I feel nothing for! Oh Also don’t panic but someone is trying to hurt me, potentially kill me… yup that will go over so well. But she was really struggling with her thoughts and feelings at the moment and wasn’t sure how to handle herself. She paced around the room, running an irate hand through her hair.

“Is this angry pacing thing contagious?!” Max groaned, watching her through her opened door. 

“What?” Elle asked, confused, turning to him.

“Never mind, zusje, what’s the matter with you?” He asked her, sighing.

“Nothing…” She began, Max held his hand up interrupting her.

“Don’t even start trying to bullshit me, I know frustrated-can’t-get- my- thoughts- together-pacing when I see it,” He told her aggravatedly, “Otherwise known as ‘the Milo’.” he muttered under his breath. “What’s the matter?” He repeated. Elle sighed.

“I am not talking about this with you! The only thing weirder than talking about this with his mother would be talking about this with his twin!” She told him tersely.

“You talked to our mother about Milo?” Max asked, pulling a face, “That is…upsetting.” 

“She talked to me about Milo, actually.” She hissed at Max, “Go away, you're not helping.”

“No, no come on, I want to help, tell me what’s happening!” He cajoled. “Do his triceps get you all riled up too? Because you may have to fight Daire over them, he practically wrote a sonnet over Milo’s very defined arms, it was…terrible, for multiple and myriad reasons.”

“Because your arms aren’t as defined?” Elle offered.

“That’s mean spirited, but also yes!” He told her angrily, “He won’t tell me what he does! Has to be some combination of tricep extensions and  diamond push ups, maybe dips. And that egoistische klootzak, will not tell me what supplements he takes…you don’t care about this, why am I telling you this?” He concluded, his tirade forgotten.

“I don’t know, because you’ve got some weird obsession with your brother’s tricep definition?” She said, making a face. “Jesus, this is the opposite of helpful, you are such a klootviool!” 

“Who is a scrotum violin?” Maeve asked, peeking her head in. 

“Your husband.” Elle informed her easily, “Also touch of the ole incest, he hasn’t shut up about Milo’s triceps, its frankly very disturbing.”

“Aye lass you’ve no idea, t’is all I've heard all day, between him and Daire, if I hear the word ‘tricep’ one more time I do no’ ken what I’ll do!” She told Elle.

“Hey, I was trying to help, but you and your asshat attitude can pace a hole through the floor all by yourself.” Max told Elle.

“Oh yes you were so helpful, I had seriously wondered what workouts Milo was doing to get his luscious arms, thanks.” She threw at him sarcastically.

“What’s the matter?” Maeve asked her seriously, side eyeing her husband.

“It's…nothing.” Elle replied dismissively, eyeing Max as she said it. Maeve looked first to Elle and then to Max, seeming to make up her mind on something.

“Max, get out,” Maeve told him, tilting her head toward the door. He blinked in surprise.

“Pardon me?” He asked in an offended tone.

“Leave, no one wants to talk about someone in front of their twin, get out.” She hissed at her husband.

“And they want to talk about them to their sister in law?” He asked incredulously.

“Why don’t you ask Fiore and Adele when you have a chance to, love,” She told him sweetly.

“...What did you tell Fiore and Adele about me?!” He asked sharply, “You know Fiore keeps nothing from Julian!”

“Oh she kept this, you would ken if Julian was aware, you’d never hear the end of it, now get out!” She told him, shoving him toward the door.

“No but seriously…” He began as he allowed her to maneuver him to the door, she smiled brightly at him, gave him a light kiss on the lips, and then promptly shut the door in his face. “MAEVE!!” His muffled yell called through the door. Maeve turned around and looked at Elle, a big energetic smile on her face as she plopped herself on the bed.

“Go on, tell me everything!” She commanded.

****

How on earth could no one, FUCKING no one know where this woman had gone?! He thought enraged, barely restraining himself from throwing the magazine rack into the face of this grinning idiot! He had been prowling around her work for some time now, following her little friend to see if maybe he knew more than he was letting on, to see if maybe she’d eventually contact him with more details. Despite his first indications the man wasn’t a complete idiot and had realized something was wrong with his phone after his first few hacks, and had since replaced it. It would take time to hack it again, but he suspected it would wield no new information. He’d started following him again, hoping that maybe she’d reach out to him to see him. All indications, including his camera roll, her diary and her apartment filled with evidence showed they were very close and saw each other often. He’d hoped that at the least maybe she’d told him his name. Seemingly he knew even less than Hadeon had suspected! He’d overheard him, on his date with the barista from next door, that he was proud of her for taking time off. PROUD?! Of her slutting it up with some man she barely knew?! But then he’d realized she hadn’t told this David about him…Rex…Aiden…so many names…What the fuck is your name this time?!

His brother was blond, blue eyed, big…do you look the same? The idea enraged him, of course he’d come back looking like that! He was always so fucking pretty, every single goddamned lifetime! And this limpid moon-struck bitch would fall for him every.Single.Fucking.Time!! How long had she waited as Laila before she’d given herself to him? How long had she waited as Simrin?! His hands clenched furiously around the magazine rack and he just prevented himself from destroying it, when he saw it…He stared in utter disbelief, days he had been trying to catch a hint, a whiff, anything at all about where his family might have taken her, who he even was this time…

With shaking trembling hands he grasped the magazine in his hands and stared at the cover. Forbes 30 under 30…there he was in a three piece power suit, smiling smugly, his hair was shorter sure, but he’d never forget his face. The face of the man who’d attacked him in that alley, who’d taken her away. Milo Van Ee…that’s your name…Van Ee…

****

The more he found out about the Van Ees the angrier he became. The indignity of this usurping, thieving, son of a whore comming back somehow even wealthier and more established than his past incarnations, fucking absurd! 

There were four Van Ee brothers, the eldest James had no online presence whatsoever. The best his online research had been able to glean was that he had been a Dutch marine at one point, and that he had rented a home in Seattle. The other three brothers on the other hand…it could be argued that there was entirely too much of an online presence…especially on Julian Van Ee. He could have done without the leaked…well never mind. He was definitely not him, married for 5 almost 6 years to a woman he’d been in a relationship with since he was 18. Not even a hint of an affair. You could practically feel the love seeping out of their photographs together, it was frankly revolting.

The other two, the twins. Milo and Max Van Ee, had some online presence certainly but very little information was available on their personal lives. Milo Van Ee, the younger of the twins, was the COO of the family pharmaceutical company. There were only professional headshots of him, and a few candid shots of him around and about the Netherlands. One mildly scandalous shot of him lounging on a beach in flagrante with a gorgeous redhead. That one might have been more recent as he had long hair in the shot. No pictures of Max Van Ee at all, and no information about him other than his status as a university student a few years ago.

He was sure it was either Max or James, and he was leaning toward the latter. He always came back strong, the sword and shield as it were. How many times had he been a warrior, soldier, commander, warlord…snipper…That one especially filled him with rage, remembering the sound of the bullets…Took away MY woman and child…and then SHOT ME! He clenched both fists, and slammed them down onto the desk, roaring in frustration. He sucked in angry heaving breaths, trying to focus, lately it was getting harder and harder to think past his fury, and indignation. How many fucking times have you taken away that which is MINE?! How many times have you filled her with your fetid seed?! How many lifetimes have you stolen from me?!Not this time!

Seattle was a mere two hour flight away from Calgary, how easy could it have been to spirit her away? She might well have been out of the country that very evening! Maybe she’d never actually come back to the apartment, maybe they’d taken her right to him immediately after the alley. Certainly they had enough wealth to send someone to get her things…It would explain why despite essentially living here, in this home she had created and filled with herself, there had been no activity here. God how he hated this place, it reeked of her, in the worst possible way, it stunk of all the things she cared about, and considered important. The fact that she’d had the audacity to live a life that didn’t include him…You will NEVER have anything above me again…He stared at the picture of her and her friends sitting on the desk, her face bright and sunny, wearing cowboy hats, their arms around each other. He clenched his teeth, grabbed the picture and threw it against the wall snarling. You’ll never smile at anyone else like that again! I own every part of you, everything about you, soon I’ll show you!

Seattle…that’s where I’ll go…I’ll find you, you stupid bitch! He won’t have you first, not again! 

****

Hours later Elle felt relieved to have been able to speak with someone about her complicated thoughts, but also apprehensive about what she’d heard. Maeve had been very patient, kind and was frankly a great listener. She had heard Elle’s disjointed and conflicting thoughts and asked her poignant and insightful questions that had helped her understand herself a little better. It had been embarrassing to admit to Daire’s sister that she had felt nothing with him, but that when she dreamed his face she felt…so many intense things. Maeve had been surprised to hear she dreamed about Daire, but had commented nothing further about it. 

When the conversation had gotten to Milo, Elle had cautiously asked Maeve what her thoughts were about him, and what she’d said had sent a chill down her spine. Maeve, though diplomatic and sweet about it, had reiterated what Ute had said, that he was kind, considerate, but aloof, distant and yes, sometimes cold. But she had assured Elle that Milo was a wonderful if reserved person and that he had great depth to him, that while he wasn’t the most affectionate person he was a very giving person. 

“He doesn’t really care to be touched, or to touch. But you could no’ ask for a kinder, more levelheaded person, if ever there were an emergency, I would want Milo there.” She had told Elle. Which confused the living hell out of Elle completely…he held me while I cried…

Elle was still lost in thought as she headed down to dinner with Maeve. As she entered the dining room, and sat down at the chair beside Maeve, she watched Milo walk out of the kitchen holding plates in his arms. Elle watched him place them down, no one even acknowledging him, offering to help or even moving to make it easier for him. Milo seemed unphased by this, and simply went back to the kitchen to bring out more plates of food. Everyone else had begun talking amongst themselves, as Milo came out with the last of the plates, he placed it in front of Elle, lingering for a second, looking like he wanted to say something, when Max called out to him grumbling about his dinner getting cold in Milo’s hands. Milo rolled his eyes and promptly handed over the plate, before sitting down at the head of the table with his own plate in front of him.  

Everyone at the table began eating, having multiple conversations with each other, except Milo, he was looking at Elle quietly as if waiting to see her reaction to the dinner. Elle took a small bite of the pasta dish in front of her, and almost moaned at the flavor of the meal, it was simply delicious. The pasta was perfectly al dente, the sauce the perfect mix of creamy and lemony, complimenting the shrimp wonderfully, the light garnish of parsley made the entire thing come together into the perfect mouthful. Elle had to work to slow herself down so as not to inhale her dinner, but as she savored it, she felt his eyes on her, she looked up at him and saw he had the smallest most imperceptible smile of satisfaction on his face, before he abruptly looked away. Elle looked around and noticed that none else seemed to even notice or care about how perfect dinner was, and were just idly eating it. In exactly the same amount of enthusiasm as they had eaten Pizza the night before. 

“This is excellent,” Elle said finally, feeling that it was odd no one else had commented on it.

“Oh this is just Milo’s lemon shrimp pasta,” Max said dismissively, “He makes it all the time.” Elle scowled at Max, annoyed.

“It’s fantastic,” She repeated, “If I could make this I would make it all the time too.” She told him fiercely.

“Thank you,” Milo said with a soft appreciative smile on his face, “It's quite simple to make, really nothing special.” he added deferentially.

“It is though,” Elle defended, “A simple dish perfectly made, is still a perfectly made dish.” She insisted. His smile widened. 

“That’s very kind of you to say,” He replied, clearly taken aback by her compliment. He had flushed slightly, and couldn’t seem to stop himself from smiling, carefully covering his mouth with his hand, looking away from her.

As everyone around them finished eating they all got up,leaving behind their dishes. No one thanked Milo for the meal, and he didn’t seem to expect it as he began clearing the table himself. Elle got up and start picking up plates from the other end of the table, clearing napkins and cutlery, 

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Milo began, clearly surprised that she started to help him. Elle glanced at him furrowing her brow.

“You made dinner for everyone, it’s the least I can do,” She said, “It’s the least any of them could have done, frankly.”

“They are all used to being picked up after,” He told her shrugging, “I don’t mind, really, go on and head into the living room with everyone I think they are streaming something.”

“No, I’m good.” She told him sternly, “Let me give you a hand, it’s not as if I don’t wash dishes every single day at home. Don’t make a whole production out of it.” She called over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen, he barely stifled a grin as he followed her.

In the kitchen Elle began rinsing dishes, creating a pile on the counter over the dishwasher.

“I’ve…” He began, moving to take over for her.

“I promise you I will not melt like the wicked witch of the west if I get wet, why don’t you just hand me the dishes and if you’re really eager to do something you can put these rinsed ones in the dishwasher yeah?” She interrupted,smiling to belly her words. He found himself complying, taking the dishes she’d neatly stacked and putting them in the dishwasher. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Elle becoming more and more aware of him, the way his incredible body moved, the efficiency of his strong capable hands, even the rise and fall of his drool worthy chest.

“I thought all you can make are eggs?” She said finally, looking at him with amusement. His eyes danced with humor.

“And pasta, but it’s too many words for the shame hat.” He told her. She laughed at that. Seduce and amuse…Jesus I’m hooped...

“So you’re a good cook, and your face is painfully symmetrical, and,” She said gesturing around, “You’re not poor,” She finished, “So what’s the catch, what’s wrong with you?” 

“Ah schatje, you’ve found me out.” He told her, eyeing her over his shoulder, putting the rinsed cutlery into the dishwasher. “I am what some call eccentric, what my brothers call a nerd,” 

“Oh are you going to elaborate, what do you do that's so nerdy? Comic book collection? Warhammer?Dungeons and dragons? WOW subscription? Oh, do you build gaming computers?” She asked sarcastically, waggling her eyebrows.

 I have a shamefully large comic book collection, I play warhammer, D&D, and I’ve built pcs.” He told her seriously, “Never really got into WOW, was not my scene, law school took up a lot of time.” 

“Be still my beating heart,” She gasped, planting her hand over her chest, “A man with actual hobbies! Shiiiit!!” She laughed, before catching the expression on his face. “You’re serious?! Really!?” 

“Yes,” He told her, vaguely embarrassed, not quite meeting her eyes. Elle sensed he was holding his breath for her response. 

“That’s…that’s amazing.” She told him grinning, “I mean it would be amazing if you’re a DC fan,otherwise you and Marvel can go fuck right off.” 

“Oh can we, can we fuck off? To where? Gotham or Metropolis? What kind of writers create two different cities both based on New york? Lazy.” He told her, rolling his eyes.

“Well everyone and their uncle is a mutant in your universe, are we really going to talk about being lazy? How did this guy get powers…mutant, how about this guy? Oh surprise mutant!” She retorted sarcastically.

“Sorry not everyone can be bitten by a radioactive spider!” He replied sardonically.

“That’s still your universe! Mine is filled with orphans, God’s perfect killing machine, I mean who's going to miss them if they die? Not their parents!” She threw at him, grinning. He blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing. His eyes crinkling, and his beautiful even teeth flashing, Elle felt she had never seen anything quite so spectacular as his laughing face. 

“I feel dirty for laughing at that,” He admitted, making zero attempts not to laugh.

“It’s fine, Lucifer is an Orphan, he knows.” She said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Lucifer is not an orphan, he’s the product of a neglectful single dad, and now he’s a crybaby who owns a nightclub.” He told her, smiling.

“I love that graphic novel! I have the full series!” She informed him.

“Me too!” He told her, high fiving her.

“Are we high fiving over comic books? Because my teenage nerd hood is just so thrilled this is happening!”She told him, her face beaming with good humor. How can I be so attracted to and comfortable with someone? 

“Absolutely we are high fiving over comic books, we are currently living my teenage fantasies!” He told her. “Beautiful woman high fiving me over my impressive comic book collection, If this is a dream please don’t wake me!” 

“What else do you have?” She asked, side stepping his compliment with a pretty blush. Even the way he said the word ‘beautiful’ made her toes curl in pleasure.

“In the Netherlands? Too many to recite, less here, but I do have some DC classics.” He told her.

“Do you have any ‘Else world’?” She asked excitedly. He smiled with enthusiasm.

“Of course, I have ‘Red son’…”He began listing, but Elle screeched with barely contained excitement.

“That’s my favorite!” She told him, “Let’s finish these dishes, and then you can show me your stash!” 

“You are being serious, yes?” He asked her, looking shell shocked but pleased. If Elle were being honest she was certain she would have found just about any excuse to try to be alone with him for a few more minutes, but he had hit bullseye with his talk of comic books with her. 

“I do not joke about comics, good sir!” She told him. “Hand me that pot, I’ll grab the other,” She said pointing. Her face was bright with laughter and cheer, the sight made something catch in Milo’s chest. He wanted to kiss her smiling face with wild dangerous abandon. 

 Elle reached to pick up the empty pot off the stove, Milo intercepted her, their hands touched as they both grabbed it at the same time. Milo clasped her hand over the edge of the pot, holding it for a second longer than was necessary, looking down into her startled eyes the ghost of her joy still there. The intensity of his gaze made Elle’s heart beat faster, he tilted his head slightly watching her, before he gently took the pot from her hand all together and set it down on the sink counter. He moved closer to her, his big body imposing, even as it was tantalizing. He backed her slowly, gently into the island, he placed both hands on either side of her body on the edge of it, looking down, down at her, his own breath coming out ragged now. 

“Hoe kan iemand zo fucking mooi zijn?” He whispered, as he gazed at her with wonder. 

“What does that mean,” She whispered back, enthralled.

“How can anyone be this fucking beautiful…” He repeated in english, his voice raspy with desire, as his eyes blazed into hers.

And his family think he’s cold…