The Finish Line (The Ravenhood #3) - Kate Stewart Page 0,3
whose howl only increases the more I rouse and fight him off. He doesn’t weigh much, but his bark indicates he’s got an incredible self-image.
The fucker hasn’t stopped growling at me since I walked through the front door yesterday, which Cecelia found highly amusing.
I did not.
Lifting to sit in the blackened room, I palm the empty space next to me on the bed. Beau, a namesake I truly wish she hadn’t wasted on a dog, snaps his jaws where she slept next to me just hours before, sitting on his haunches, yapping, to make sure I fucking hate him.
And mere hours after our introduction, I decide I do.
Tense due to her disappearance, I glance out the window to see it’s still dark, midnight dark.
I run a hand down my face, trepidation sneaking its way in.
I’d shown up after eight months, promised her the world, explanations, breakfast, and vowed to earn her. Instead, I got a brief tour of the house before I took a shower and passed right the fuck out. I don’t remember much after the relief of getting through the door, mingled with the hot steam relaxing me to a point I haven’t been able to reach in years.
And after all those promises I made, I failed to deliver on every single one a mere hour after I uttered them—due to exhaustion. With the adrenaline gone, I crashed and crashed hard.
What in the fuck, Tobias?
Tossing off the covers, I dress in the clothes I arrived in and slip into my boots.
Searching the room for a clock, I spot a small one that looks antique—solid gold with bells on top—sitting on one of her bookshelves and manage to make out the time.
Four a.m.
The time stamp marks my first day of hell.
Not only that, I’m fairly certain she’s freaking out.
Merde. Shit.
I hoped she would sleep through the night, but I knew better. Jet lagged from a thirty-six-hour trip, I passed out before we had a real conversation, went practically comatose before I could give her a single explanation of what kept me away. Briefly, I recall she changed into head-to-toe flannel pajamas while I was toweling off. This detail I remember because I found it amusing that she would go to such lengths to make sure I knew she wasn’t going to reward me for returning—with her body. It didn’t stop her at all from eye-fucking me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
I’m sure she usually wakes early to open her café, but it’s still too early for her to have gotten enough sleep. But I slept like a rock in those hours, better than I have in years because I was in her bed. I know she hasn’t rested for the same reason.
Because of me and my grand entrance back into her life.
I may have gotten my foot in the door, but she’s still got her hand on the knob, ready to slam it with me on the other side if I fuck up. And I’m off to an amazing start.
I groan in frustration as Beau continues to shriek at me in what seems to be a canine declaration of territorial war until finally, I bark back.
“Putain, tais-toi!” Shut the fuck up! Immediately, Beau goes silent, head cocked, beady black eyes questioning the authority in my tone.
“Couché.” Get down. Beau obeys without issue. He’s got the simple commands down pat. Commands he understands clearly, in French.
The pointy-eared dog bounces around my heels as my eyes adjust to the dark. Though I’m anxious to get to her—wherever she may be—I can’t help but glance around her bedroom out of curiosity. This room far different than the one we got acquainted in. The room in her father’s home where I manipulated her, fucked her, damaged her before I began to worship her, love her.
She said her place wasn’t much, but every part of the space has been touched somehow by color, inspiration, or houses some sort of creature comfort.
It’s as if she’s carefully designed every room in this house both as sanctuary and proof of her evolution. I can see it, all the subtle pieces of her in this house, in the artwork, in her choices.
Turning on a mosaic-colored Tiffany-style reading lamp on her repurposed desk, I sift through some hardbacks she has yet to shelve and eye a few of her handwritten notes next to a stack of bills, one a to-do list.
Organize a Thanksgiving food drive. (Drop at Meggie’s)