#curtis everett

Your silence says more than any response could. The driver chuckles and opens the door. He pulls down the stool even as you protest it isn’t needed. He helps you inside by your elbow and you thank him.

“Be calm, lady, and I will have us to Mr. Clement’s by midday.” He avows.

“As you will have us. Take the road safety, is all I would bid, sir.” You settle into the bench and stack your hands in your lap.

The Lady Duchess, Diana Sombrette, would speak to Giles in a bolder tone, with impatience in her teeth. As she does all who do her bidding and even those who do not. She has little patience or pity for those who cannot meet her measure.

You cannot resent your place very much. It keeps you a palette to sleep and food in your belly. As meagre as both may be, they are preferable to none. You also cannot gripe for a task outside the castle walls, as oppressive as they are.

Giles takes his seat at the front of the carriage and puts the horses to trot. You rock with the motion of the axle. Mister Clement is not much more amiable than the Duchess. You do not relish even a brief rapport with the tailor.

The driver whistles and the willowy tune puts you at ease. You lean over to see past the curtains to the rows of trees and a cluster of brush beyond. The shadows of creatures unknown pass between the trunks and crack twigs and fallen branches beneath their paws.

The forests are a mysterious place. Treacherous. The noble claim right to them as their hunting and game grounds, while other less regarded figures trespass, hidden in caves and ravines as they plot against the proclaimed keepers. You shiver and try not to think of those tales, instead catching the white tail of a hare as it retreats from the clatter of the carriage.

You laze in the soft canter of the horses, barely noticing as they slow. It’s only as the uneven melody of the driver’s lips quiets that you break from your trance. You sit up as the rustle of branches and leaves fills the silence Giles grunts.

“What is the meaning of–”

Thunk! Something hits the side of the carriage and you wince as you notice the piercing point lodged through the upper corner. The arrow head stares you down as you clutch your hands over your heart. It cannot be!

“We have no conflict with you, sir,” a voice proclaims. “But with the lady within.”

“The lady… no, no, yer mistaken,” Giles insists.

“Are we? Is that not the duchess’ sigil upon those wheels? Hm? Painted by those hands she enslaves for her selfish needs.” The voice accuses again.

“They are, but the lady is back at the castle.” Giles insists.

“So you steer an empty carriage? How ridiculous.”

“I am on the duchess’ mission. I needn’t explain to you lot of scoundrels–”

Another startling thump lurches the carriage. The blade of a knife pokes through the other side of the wall. You gulp.

“We don’t wan’ harm you, fellow. You are only as we are. Crushed beneath the greed of that vile duchess.” The man continues. “We only ask that you step down and surrender your cargo.”

“I cannot do that–”

“We would not like to hurt you, but will if needed.” The voice sinks in warning. “We permit you one last chance.”

“I am done with you vermin!” Giles sneers and the reins snap. The horses jolt forward and the carriage bounces. The wheels turn one spin before they catch and something cracks. You fly from the bench and hit the parallel one before heaping onto the floor.

Giles cries out as you hear his body hit the dirt. You heave out a tight breath and gasp. Your body is paralysed as you struggle to breathe through the pain in your ribs.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” a grittier voice cuts through the chaos without and you hear a terrible slice and groan.

Footsteps clamour around the carriage as you rock and fight to sit up. When you find the strength to, the door opens from the other side. You cry out and kick your heels down, pushing yourself back. The door behind you swings out and you’re seized, hauled out into the open air.

“We’ve got her!” The men proclaim.

There’s a cheer from the dozen other bodies closing in on you. Your eyes flit back and forth as panic swirls in your vision. Your gaze clings to the body on the ground. Poor Giles is face down, a puddle of blood spreading through the dirt. Your stomach drops and your legs buckle.

 Several of the men part to let through a man in a wool cap and tattered grey clothing. He holds an axe as he walks with unbreakable pride in his shoulders. Your tremble as the edge of the tool glistens scarlet.

He stares you down as you wilt and wriggle against the two men clinging to your arms. He sighs and blinks slowly. He keeps his eyes closed.

“It is not her.” He hisses.

“It has to be! She was within. There is no other–”

“The driver was honest.” The man opens his eyes, irises icy blue. “I know the duchess. And she would never wear an apron of the sort.” He grips his hips. “She must suspect our plot.”

The men exchange looks and grumble.

“What do we do?” Another asks; the one who spoke to Giles earlier. “Let her go?”

“No. We cannot. It would only give the duchess more suspicion.” The man in the grey wool, the one you assume to be their leader, grits. “We keep her. Use her. She will know the duchess and her life. Perhaps she will afford us our next chance.”

“Hm, suppose that makes sense.” The other man responds thoughtfully.

“No one…” the leader raises his finger and comes forward. “Is to touch her.” He growls as he approaches you and waves off the men beside you. “I will get the information we need.”

🪓

The man walks you between the trees on a short length of rope. One end is wound around your wrists, the other in his grip as he tugs you along. The other men walk in pairs, whispering, watching the trees as they make cautious progress.

You keep your head down and stare at your thumbs. Your skirt catches on thorns and brambles and your soft-soled shoes slip on roots and moss. Several times the man yanks you as you slow to avoid falling.

He leads you down a steep ridged decline and at the bottom, you find a sight that strikes you. Tents set up on the flat of the ravine, a few women peeking out from the flaps with feral eyes. One emerges and sheaths a long dagger at her waist.

“Edgar,” she greets the man who did most of the talking back at the carriage. She rushes toward him then slows as she sees you next to the other man. She frowns. “What’s happened?”

“It wasn’t the duchess.” He says grimly as he squeezes the woman’s arm.

“Then…?” The woman prompts.

“We’ll figure it out,” the man at the other end of the rope snips and pulls you forward.

He drags you past the other women as they emerge; a few with children on their hips or behind their skirts. The man tugs you forward and grabs the back of your neck. He forces your head under the tent flap of the structure at the very rear of the settlement.

He points to the ground. “Sit.”

You obey. He gets down on his knees and winds the loose end of the robe around your ankles. You watch him without a word.

“You are the duchess’ sheep.” He accuses as he stands.

You lower your head. His soles scuff the ground. He grabs the waterskin slung around his torso and loosens the top. He drinks and hums. He tightens the tie on it and paces around.

“Maid.” He states.

“Yes.” You murmur.

“Close to her then.” He mulls as he brings his hand up to his chin. You peek up at the movement and find his cold eyes on you. You quickly drop your head again. “She’s lost a driver. Won’t want to lose you too.”

You chew your cheek. You’re not certain for that. The duchess dismissed Talula for bringing the wrong wine and the stable boy for kicking up dirt as she passed.

He walks a small circle, stops, then squats down in front of you. He rests his forearms on his knees.

“Look at me.” He snarls.

You look up as you shiver. “Sir.”

“Tell me everything.”

You scrunch up your nose in confusion.

“Tell me about what the duchess does in a day. Tell me when she pisses, when she eats, when she sleeps. Tell me everything you know.” He reaches to his belt and frees the axe, pointing it at your nose. “Believe me when I tell you, I can smell a lie before it’s told.”

You gulp. “I understand,” you wisp out. “I… I will be honest.”

He turns the axe and presses it to your chest. “Good woman.”

🪓

You sleep on the ground, as you have for nights past. You don’t count them. Knowing won’t help you. You shiver in the corner, wrists and ankles bound so you can only lay in a ball.

You groan as you shift. There is no comfort to be had; not waking, not sleeping. Two times a day, the bonds are loosed so you may go into the trees to relieve yourself. A woman called Ursula watches you with her blade out. Then you are led back. You are fed a handful of nuts and sometimes burnt barley.

There is no use in complaint. You are afraid but there is nothing this man could do or say to assuage that. You told him all you could but he did not seem happy for it; if that is an emotion he would know. Since, he has said little. You haven’t either.

“Curtis,” a whisper comes from without.

That’s his name. You’ve heard a few say it. He sniffs and rolls over on his bedroom. He sits up, axe already in hand. You watch his shadow.

“Ed,” he greets the man through the flap. The soft dwindling dusk pores through the small gap.

“Today. The horsemen ready.”

Curtis grunts.

“There is a feast. The duchess will go. Along with the rest of those heathens.” Edgar explains in a coarse hush.

Curtis nods. “Six men.”

“Six?” Edgar sounds surprised.

“More than enough,” Curtis assures and drops the flap back.

He turns and goes back to his bedroom. He doesn’t lay down. He lights a stub of tallow with the scratch of flint. He pulls out a whetstone and works on the edge of his axe, the shink of his sharpening making you twitch.

“You’ll come too.” He says bluntly. “I’m certain your mistress misses her sheep.”

🪓

A different man holds the rope. You perch at the foot of the trees as you watch the line of men snake through the brush and hide in the ditch at the edge of the beaten road. You’re exhausted, so much so that even your adrenaline can’t keep your head from nodding. The endless coursing of fear has drained you of all strength and hope.

Your eyes droop and your head wobbles until you hear it. A noise so distant it could have been as simple as a bird flapping through the leaves. But then it keeps going. The steady grind of wheels grows closer and closer, pebbles pouncing beneath the wooden frames, dirt mulching louder than it should.

The man next to you tenses. You look down at the ditch. You cannot see the men as they hide beneath a criss cross of overgrown weeds and vines. They are clever. It must be how they surprised Giles before. 

And left him dead.

The horses’ hooves thunder nearer and the call of a bird goes up. All at once, you realise the squawk came from the throat of a man. Guards appear first. The duchess must have heeded the previous carriage’s fate. The bandits are methodic in their attack. Their arrows aimed in the gap above halberd or exposed beneath the under arm.

The soldiers wail and fall from their saddles, their horses stampeding forward. That is until they notice the large rocks across the road, arranged there by the attackers. They rear and kick up, neighing in fear.

The bandits hurl up ropes tipped with iron hooks as the carriage comes into sight. Two stand and shoot their arrows that embed in the wood.

The driver panics and rolls off the bench. You know him; his name is Rhys. He stumbles over the side of the carriage as the horses keep running. The bandits tie the ropes to trees and the carriage lurches to a halt entirely. The roof splits from the tension of its bounds. You clutch your damp skirts and stare foggily as the scene plays out.

“Come, your time is now.” The man wrenches you up as the bandits hurry onto the road, checking the men writhing on the ground. If they are not dead, the bandits make sure of it.

There’s a shriek from within the carriage. 

“Around, around!” Edgar hollers.

Two of the men hurry around as the door on the opposite side opens, swaying the vehicle. There is another fearful shout. You’ve never heard the duchess so terrified.

The man jerks you down the incline and through the ditch. Diana continues her struggle as she is restrained by Edgar. Curtis stands before her calmly as you’re dragged up onto the road.

“You!” She snarls as her green eyes flash. “I should’ve known it was you, you vile rat.”

“Shhhh,” Curtis hushes her as he raises his axe to his lips and walks forward.

The duchess retracts against Edgar and whines. “Who are you, scoundrel?”

He hushes her again and pushes the blunt top of the axe to her mouth. “I’ve come to make a barter. A generous one as what you’ve taken cannot be repaid.”

“What do you–”

“If I must quiet you again, I will have your tongue in my purse.” He warns. The duchess’ scoffs as her face contorts in fear. “Now, my terms are not imbalance. You will have your maid returned to you. You may even keep your horses and your carriage. But that will be all.” He turns the blade slowly in front of her face. “And you will ride and ride and ride until you cannot any further. But you will not come back here.”

Her nostrils flare and her lip curls.

“And you will not return. Ever. If I see your face again, I will do worse than what your men did to my people.” He sneers. “I will burn you alive but you will not die of it. You will live with it. For days, weeks, possibly months… and your flesh will rot away and you still will not know of the pain you’ve caused me and mine.” He declares, his hand shaking on his axe. “And we will claim what we need. The castle, the kitchens, the barrels you hoard, the rooms kept empty for your pride.” He pushes the axe against her chest. “Am I understood?”

The duchess rolls her eyes. “Kill the maid, see if I care.”

Curtis’ eyes narrow. His lashes dip down and he bows his head. He backs up and signals.

“Grab the pitch.” He commands.

“Pitch?” Diana squeals. “You cannot– you must unhand me– the King will have your heads.”

“Not if I have his first.” Curtis retorts. “But I’ll settle for yours.”

He spins and approaches another man with a pail in hand. He trades his axe for it and looks into it. He carries it to the duchess. It’s steaming.

“You have your men go out and fight your battles so you would not know what pitch smells like. You would not know how it covers the flesh of a man and slowly suffocates him. How he can remain alive for such a time and suffer and suffer.” He tilts his head. “But you will learn. Slowly.”

He raises the bucket as Edgar forces the Duchess to her knees. She cries out and claws at his hands. Curtis holds the pail over her.

“You will not want it to get in your eyes. For what is worse than burning from the outside in, being blind as you do.” He slowly tips the bucket and you close your eyes. The duchess screeches as you hear a sizzle so sickly you fall to your knees. You cover your face with your bound hands and shudder. In her fate, you only see your own.

🪓

The pressure drains from your hands. You open your eyes as the burning smell stains your tongue and soul. You shake as you blink away the shock and stare at your loose wrists. A hand with black trimmed nails winds up the rope.

You look at Curtis as the men move behind him, inspecting the carriage, reining in the horses.

“Is it my turn?” You ask.

His brows tweak and his lashes flutter. “Your…” he begins.

You look at the axe on his belt. He hooks the rope beside it. “What good is your death?” He growls. “Cruel enough she would throw you to us wolves.”

He stands and claps his hands on his jacket.

“What… what do I do?” You ask as you look around.

“Did I say you were free?” He challenges. You stay on your knees. “You know our faces, our names, where we eat and sleep. You cannot go but you don’t have to die.”

He spins away and calls to Edgar. The other men continue to strip down the carriage and search the purses of the soldiers in the dirt. You look over it all. You don’t want to die but you don’t know if you want to live either.

🪓

You walk with the bandits back to camp. Ahead of you, Curtis leads the way, at the rear, Edgar keeps the line moving. As you get to the decline, you lower yourself to make your way down. Your foot slips and you slide over the jutting rocks and roots that make the footholds.

You’re caught by your sleeve. You plant your foot and look up as Curtis clings to you. He steadies you then lets go. You continue down as he trails you.

Ursula greets her husband, Neil, and Edgar finds his wife, Joan, and their daughter, Gwen. The other men disperse to return to their tents. There are two missing. The ones who were bid to take the duchess back to her castle. You can still hear her senseless whimpers.

You peer around. You don’t know what to do. You don’t belong here. You go to the smoking pit and sit in the dirt. You stare at the embers.

You stay like that for a while. Ursula appears with her mussed and pot in hand. You quickly look away.

“My husband says you will stay with us.” She hangs the pot over the pit and stokes it.

“I guess.” You agree weakly.

She nods and hums. “There are some women, you might have seen them. The sisters Martin. They were nuns but… we were all once someone else. They might have space in their tent.”

“I thank you.” You say.

“Hm. If you give me your name, you can share the soup.” She offers.

You look at her. You recite the name that doesn’t feel like yours.

She feeds you as you stay where you are. Others come to warm their food and fill their bellies. You are a ghost among them. Children chase each other between that fire and the next.

Dusk sets in and you shiver. You should get up and find those nuns. You can’t.

The moon shimmers down as the fire dwindles. You lower your head and bend over your knees.

“You cannot sleep here. There are real wolves.” Curtis startles you as his shadow blocks out the moonlight. You look up at him. “My tent remains… open to you.”

“That is kind.” You say.

You rub your hands together and blow into them. You hug your bent knees, tucking your fingers under them. He sighs and circles the pit.

“I’m not asking.” He says.

You swallow. You take a deep breath. You can’t move, not right away. He waits. You shift onto your knees and press your hands to the dirt. You stand stiffly.

He approaches and you shy away. He catches your wrist. You quiver but do not draw away. He walks you away from the fire and between the tents.

Your eyes wander and as you pass Ursula’s tent, you spy her by a torch propped out of the dirt. She watches you and lifts her chin in acknowledgement. Curtis drags you to his tent and pushes you under the flap.

It’s different. There are blankets piled over soft mounds. You have seen that embroidery before. These come from the Duchess’ inventory.

“You need purpose. I took that from you.” He says as he slides his axe free from his belt. He places it on a pillow. He stands straight and undoes his belt completely. He locks it inside the hide chest next to the heap of bedding. “So, I have thought on it. You will have new purpose.”

He stands again and undoes the wooden buttons on his jacket. You stand and rock near the tent flap. He peels off the jacket and folds it over the chest. He tugs the back of his tunic and strips it off too, revealing the dark hair that trims his torso.

When he straightens again, he pauses to look at you. He crosses the small space and grabs the braided end of your belt. He unknots it as he stares at you. You watch the apple of his throat.

“It is cold in the night.” He tosses the belt away and pinches the slack fabric of your dress. “But you are warm and I’ve not been in some years.” His hands stretch around your waist. “Do you see your purpose now?”

Your lip trembles and you squirm.

"She will smell of wild berries. She will be cloaked in dignity but not at the cost of kindness. Her pride in her people will inspire great loyalty."

"Both descriptive and yet, not helpful," Curtis grumbles under his breath.

"I will know her," the Creature promises.

Curtis nods in acceptance.

The morning of your arrival at the palace you make sure to dress appropriately. It's none of the finery you'll be wearing when you greet the king, but it is suitable to a lady of your status.

Conrad and his men are on higher alert because of this change as well. They're keeping you and your horse in a protective circle with Conrad in the lead.

The courtyard around the palace is bustling with activity with the arrivals of parties from every duchy. What staff there is seem well versed in their work and it makes you wonder if King Everett is actually the merciful sort who doesn't harm servants. At the very least, you hope that is the truth of his nature.

Conrad stays by your side as Tanya, the woman who seems in charge of things, tells your party where the carts for the tithes are going. The horses are left with a one-armed man with bright red hair and a small boy who, given the shared hair color, is likely to be his son. It breaks your heart to see young children having to work, but that seems to be the way of things.

Another little boy cuts through the crowd carrying a bucket of water, quite likely for the horses. He trips and the water sprays out, splashing your skirts, and you let out a yelp in surprise.

Immediately the little boy is crying and apologizing and it breaks your heart.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," you reassure him, taking his hands in yours. "It was an accident and it's just water."

"Dirty water," he sniffles. "The other pretty lady threatened to throw me in the dungeon."

"Well I'm not her, and I promise you that you're going to be okay."

"Timmy?" Tanya's voice calls out as she rushes over. "Timmy, are you okay?"

"Yes, Mama," he answers.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, Mama. I was just scared. But the pretty lady promises I'm not in trouble."

"Well she's right," Tanya smiles. "So long as you go and refill the water bucket. We've got a lot of horses to take care of."

"Yes, Mama!" he beams as he grabs the bucket and runs back.

Turning to you Tanya's smile softens. "Thank you for not being angry with him."

"Accidents happen," you shake your head. "Still, I should get myself and to my quarters so I can let this dry up."

Entering the wing meant for the ladies of the palace, you grimace at a familiar voice chiding her servants. Marianne, daughter of Duke Snyder. As vicious and ruthless as her father. She was a favorite of Queen Yelena and was set to marry the oldest prince.

But with King Everett taking over, slaying the old king and his sons, banning Queen Yelena to a tower in the castle, those plans had to be thrown out. You'd give her the mercy of thinking she's upset at having years of planning go to waste, but given her treatment of you, your late mother, your father, you let yourself think of her as a demon in human form.

Most of the rooms are already taken over by other ladies of the court and their servants but you manage to find a smaller one that's the perfect size for you and a guard or two. You probably could have brought along one of the servants from home, but it was a long, dangerous trip and couldn't ask any of the ladies who worked for you to go with, especially in disguise.

Freshening up and changing into a more appropriate dress, you can hear the quiet sobs of the lady in the room next to you. Part of you wants to go over and comfort her. This is a very dangerous time to be a Lady. The new king is no doubt in search of a bride, but his reputation for bloody warfare, carnage even, against the former royals does not bode well for a good life. To be forced into the bed of that man is a scary thought indeed. And that's if he doesn't decide to outright kill you for being of noble birth.

As you're finishing up, a pronouncement is made in the wing that tomorrow would be dedicated to the giving of tithes and oaths. Until then, food would be provided in the dining room, though the King will remain in his rooms.

You're certain there will be very little sleep, if any, for the ladies tonight.

In the King's Quarters, Curtis is pacing. His inner creature is practically feral because he knows you've arrived today. The creature swears it can smell you, though Curtis has his doubts.

She is here! the creature thinks. Our mate is waiting for us! She needs to be claimed!

"If we go to her like this, if we move too fast, we could hurt her, scare her," Curtis warns. "Our mate is not to be harmed, even by us!"

The creature begrudgingly calms itself in agreement.

When they sleep, I want to find her.

"So long as we don't wake her up. You'll need to be in charge and your visage is meant to inspire fear."

I'll be careful. Won't wake her. Just want a scent.

"With any luck, she's the one Tanya told us about. The one who comforted Timmy instead of scolding him."

The Great Glen would not approve of the angry one.

"Fair. But for now, we need to calm down. It's going to be a long, boring day tomorrow."

After we find her.

"After we find her."

In the dead of night, Curtis and the creature take advantage of the cloudy night and slink through the windows. In his human form, Curtis wouldn't dare try to scale the walls of the castle, but the creature has the strength, the dexterity, the claws to make simple work of climbing towards the wing where the women are staying.

As they get closer, the scent of wild berries becomes stronger and his mouth salivates, hoping you taste as sweet as you smell.

Can't taste yet, Curtis reminds the creature.

The creature grumbles under its breath but agrees.

When they reach the window to your room, they almost whimper from how sweet you smell. Wild berries, honey, hints of creme. They could eat you out all day. He purrs as he looks over your soft, plush form. He takes a deep, slow breath, savoring everything.

The guard by your door stirs and the creature quickly, quietly, carefully goes back out the window. They'd hoped for more time, but it was probably for the best they left when they did given how hard they are.

Back inside his quarters, Curtis takes control again and fists his erection with fervor.

Should save for mate, the creature objects.

"If I don't cum I'm not going to be able to hold back next time I see her. Remember, we can't scare or hurt her."

She'll look even prettier with our cubs in her belly.

The mental image is enough to push Curtis over the edge and he cums all over his stomach with a grunt.

Previous--Next

"But my friends..." you started.

Edgar quickly shook his head. "Mr. Everett has actually upgraded them to the most exclusive section of the club, which is only a door away from where you'll be. I will ensure they know where to find you. Can't be too safe nowadays, can you?"

You still hesitated in following the younger man. After all, he'd hit it on the head with keeping yourself safe, and safe meant your friends being within your line of sight. Besides that, you've heard enough about Curtis Everett's reputation to feel a bit on edge with whatever this plan was especially since it concerned you. You were a wallflower of a nobody, so you couldn't fathom how you'd garner such a man's attention in the first place. Your shyness was the very reason your friends had dragged you to the Snowpiercer in the first place, hoping you might come out of a shell you were quite content to stay within. 

Sensing your continued hesitation, Edgar added, "Mr. Everett guarantees you'll be safe of wandering eyes and lecherous hands. His greatest wish is for you to enjoy your time here in the club." 

Still unsure why your comfort seemed to matter so much, you studied the younger man but ultimately nodded. Even then, you'd never say for certain why you agreed. Maybe it was the eager kindness etched into his features or perhaps it was how the club's deafening beats and the few leering men who walked by that cinched your agreement. 

However it came to be, you soon found yourself stepping into a rather cozy study with dark woods and rich fabrics that spoke of quiet luxury. An oversized desk sat to one side, taking up the majority of that half of that side. Built-in bookcases covered the wall behind it and had been filled with a mixture of leather tomes and file boxes. On the other side, there was a leather couch and matching armchairs around a deep cherry table. The table itself boasted shelves under the top and held a few books you recognized as familiar favorites. 

"Make yourself comfortable. Mr. Everett himself will check on you from time to time." 

"Thank you," you murmured, already heading towards the couch and sinking into the soft cushions. Your book dropped to your lap, momentarily forgotten, as you took in more of the room. A room that had you feeling like you knew its owner in a way that you shouldn't. A room that had you more than a little curious about Curtis Everett. 

When you heard the softest knock on the door, you scrambled to pick up your book, pretending you hadn't been studying this man's office. 

The same man who stepped into his office a moment later with a silver tray complete with a bottled water. 

The same man who was also apparently your almost-shyer-than-you neighbor. 

The same man who had the audacity to smirk smugly down at your shocked expression as he said, "Nobody warned you about me?"

You didn't know how to answer his question, and thankfully, he didn't try and make you. 

Instead, he moved further into the room and set the bottled water down next to you, the cap still intact. He moved so he sank into the cushion next to you, not far enough to be completely polite but not so close to overwhelm you. He sat in a way that spoke to your budding friendship these past several months even.

"I figured your friends would've given me away when I gave them the very passes they desperately wanted to my club." His eyes twinkled with his amusement, his attention turning fully towards you. "Then again, you're a good judge of character. I should've known your friends would be able to keep a secret, especially when I also confessed to wanting you here in my club, too." 

His arms settled along the back of the couch, making it so easy for him to reach out and touch you, but he didn't.

That surprised you almost as much as his confession did. 

"Why did you want me here?" you finally asked, your jumbled thoughts centering around that first. 

His fingertips grazed against your shoulder as he leaned a bit closer as if he were sharing a secret. His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper as he said, "Because it wouldn't be fair of me to make my move on you without you knowing everything you should about me."

You really didn't know what to say to that. 

Curtis continued, clearly in his element within his office and you speechless at his side, "I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you. Our little interactions only confirmed it. If you want me, that is. I may be a lot of things, my sweet bookworm, but I'm not completely a monster. Not with you anyway. Say you don't want me like I want you, and I'll leave you alone." 

You gasped at the very thought. 

While your mind still hadn't completely melded the two version of Curtis you now knew existed, you knew you didn't want to lose him in your life. 

Those same interactions had been highlights to your day, too, and to lose them would be unbearable. 

"But I really am hoping here that you want me as I've been wanting you." 

His fingertips continued to trail against your skin, playing with the strap of your top. It was only at that moment that you realized why they'd been so insistent on you wearing it. The way that Curtis looked at you certainly had your belly swooping with something you'd only really experienced between the pages of your precious books. That thrilling rush that you never truly believed you would find with someone else. 

Questions swirled through your mind in rapid succession. How could you ever rectify the two versions of Curtis that you had only known existed that night? Could you really see yourself taking a chance with a man that had a ruthlessness that frightened you? But could you deny this was the same man who'd been so kind to you? The same man who talked to you about books in those shared moments walking to your separate places? Could you say no to the Curtis who'd been more than happy to help around your place when the super was too busy to deal with 'such petty grievances'? The very Curtis who'd let you into his private space within his club so you'd feel comfortable? So you'd feel safe from the leeches lurking within the crowds of the club? The same Curtis you've been secretly comparing to your book boyfriends and finding them lacking compared to him in the past few weeks?

It all boiled down to the one question that throbbed at the heart of it: could you really say no to this man when he was offering something you've always wanted and never thought it would happen?

The absence of his teasing touch had you lurching back to the moment. 

His earlier smirk had shifted into something closer to an accepting sadness. You could see it in the dulling of his eyes, too, what he believed your prolonged silence meant. 

The escape of a rueful chuckle as he moved to distance himself, to walk away and leave you be as he promised, was what ultimately spurred you to move first. To do something you've never once considered doing, something so bold in your opinion that you'd regret it if this were anyone but Curtis. 

Before he'd even fully removed his arm from behind you, you practically launched yourself on top of him. Your hands soon settled on top of his solid shoulders while your knees moved onto either side of his sturdier thighs. The skirt your friends had chosen as well strained at the position you'd put it in, but you knew that could be remedied easily enough. They'd truly thought of everything with the skirt's hidden, full-length zipper, and you couldn't be happier for it. 

But first, you leaned down and pressed your lips against his, boldly declaring your own claim. 

Your lips slid against his for only a moment before he responded and took control himself. His hands found new homes on your hips, dragging you closer to his radiating warmth. The rough pads of his thumbs sought out the bits of your skin that your clothes hinted at, grounding you both in the moment. 

"I need you," he breathed against your lips after you both parted for air, "but not here, my sweet bookworm. Can I show you something?"

You nodded, your breathing as unsteady as his. 

The grin he shot you was both smug and tender as he gazed up at you with what you could only believe was admiration. 

He pressed another kiss to your lips, soft and chaste compared to the last one, before he set you on your feet. His hands didn't leave their spots on your hips until you stepped a bit back to give him room to get up as well. Even then, one of his hands slid into yours, lacing your fingers as he led you to another door, almost hidden in the dark paneling. Pushing it open and flipping the light switch, he motioned you inside and shut the door behind you both. 

It turned out to be a fully furnished bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. The decor matched that of the office with similar dark woods and rich furnishings. The four-poster king taking up the biggest part of the room took you by surprise. More surprising, though, were the thick curtains hung around it, ready to block out the rest of the world. 

Curtis came up behind you, his arms wrapping your middle to drag you back into him. You could feel the evidence of his growing arousal though it was his lips that really drew your attention as they trekked a path from your jaw down the curve your neck and onto your shoulder. They nudged aside the strap of your top until he could peek at the shadow of cleavage it'd hinted at before. 

"I've dreamed of this for so many nights," he murmured against your skin while his hands began to explore the curves they could reach from their current positions. "Not sure I'm going to last long now that it's happening." 

You couldn't help the smile that slid into place at his words. It was truly a heady sensation to know you affected this man as you did. It made you feel bold in ways you never dreamed you'd ever be, which is possibly why you whispered, "We've got all night for you to make it up to me if you don't."

Curtis groaned in your ear, which only made your smile widen.

"Just need to tell my friends that you've got me. I don't want them to worry." 

"Your wish is my command," he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before shifting to take your hand in his once more, "but first..."

He pulled you towards the bed's side where he quickly stripped you of your top and the skirt, easily finding the hidden zipper. Before you knew it, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing and set you as close to the center of the bed as possible. 

Your elbows propped you up, eager to see what he'd do next, but he merely stared at you for a long moment. It was almost as if he were memorizing this moment, so he'd have it tucked away for future reference. Taking in the way you had one leg stretched straight out while the other bent slightly at the knee, you started to put together why. He'd gotten you set into one of the positions he'd seen on the romance novels you always vehemently denied owning to his face. 

"Don't move," he gently ordered

You didn't dare defy his orders, curious to see what this night and this man would bring. 

As it turned out, all those romances you denied reading would never live up to the pleasure this man gave and took in equal measure. 

After that night, no other book boyfriend would stand a chance to your Curtis Everett. 

You looked at the poster in front of you.

"Hey Baby."

You reach out your hand to your husband. Curtis looked at you with all the love possible.

"I was thinking there is a wet tee-shirt contest. That could be fun if you were doing it, no?"

He looked at you like if you were talking gibbrish.

"A wet tee-shirt? What?"

"People compete against each other to know who looks the best in a wet tee-shirt."

"And you think I would like that?"

You turned toward him, caressing his chest while still looking at him.

"I think it could be fun. I mean, did you look at you? You could totally win."

"I think you are partial in this statement."

You smiled. He was not entirely wrong. Your husband was the most beautiful man that you ever saw in your life, but you were not blind. Women were looking at him, and it was not because of his closed face. They were ogling him. Especially on the beach when he had only his swimsuit on.

"That's because you don't see women looking at you. They do more than looking, they imagine things. They hope for more."

"Well, I have eyes only for one lady."

He brings you closer to him and kisses you. It was a soft kiss, letting his softer side take over. You were not sure if it was the new climate doing that, not that he was not soft with you at home but he was more often on his bestial side before showering you with gentle caresses and soft care.

"I love you, but there is no way I am doing that. We can watch if you want."

While you hoped that he would agree to this, you were not a fool. You knew that there was more probability for you to go to the moon than him accepting it. Maybe you just hoped to have women envying you because he would have gone back to you directly after winning.

"And we bring the winner home?"

His eyes descended on your lips while he grips your hips a bit tighter.

He kissed you, this time a bit more harshly. You could see the fire starting to grow in his eyes. He would never share you with someone else. You knew that, but it was exciting to see him want you more.

"Never."

"I guess I need a reminder to whom I belong."

"Maybe I should remind you that you are mine and mine alone, Mrs Everett."

"I think so. This weather seems to make you be forgetful and a bit too wild."

"Only for you, my love."

You tugged his shirt with one hand, the other caressing his skin under it.

"I don't know if I will be able to behave in front of that many people."

He could feel people gathering around you. Everything was too loud for his ears. He prefered the silence of his mountains, but by only looking at you, it was easier to forget about it. He lifted you on his shoulder before he smacked your ass, which made you yelped.

"I going to remind me who you belong to and why you will never leave me for whoever will win this contest."

Such comments would make some women scared, but you, it excited you. He was your man and your husband. There was no way that you would want someone else than him, but you liked seeing him all possessive with you. Your underwear, on the other hand were not ready for what was about to happen to them.