wine had breathed, and the first sip was magnificent. But not like watching Zeke take his. Not like watching the way he experienced the wine; he didn’t merely drink it. It was something deeper, bigger than that, something so erotic I had to press my knees together and bite my lip until I tasted blood. My coppery blood mixing with the smooth, rich red was the best thing I’d ever drank.
I told Zeke everything that happened tonight. To say he was not happy was an understatement. The air was thick with his fury. With his need for violence.
Yes, this was a dangerous man.
My father taught me not to be impressed or attracted to dangerous men. I’d managed it over thirty-five years. Yet here, over firelight and two-hundred-dollar wine, it was all out the window. Something in my bones, something in my cells reacted to this man. His every movement. The darkness in his eyes. The deep rasp in his voice. The way his large muscular hand settled delicately on the stem of a crystal wine glass.
It wasn’t healthy.
I should’ve drained the wine and made my escape.
But I didn’t.
And not just because draining this wine would be sacrilege. And not even just because I was transfixed by Zeke, drawn to him. No, it was because I didn’t want to go home. Walk into the familiar rooms stained with David’s presence. With his ghost. Where everywhere I looked I was faced with the reminder of what I had lost. What a tomb my house was.
And my boys. As much as I wanted to hold them close to me every second, every moment, I needed a break. From the father in their eyes, in their noses, in their souls. Did that make me a terrible mother, a terrible person, for needing to have my boys out of my sight so I could breathe? So I could hurt a little less?
Probably.
“You’re not really going to kill him, are you?” I asked after I told Zeke what happened and he brooded silently with his wine.
. I mostly asked because the silence was far too thick and it was all I could do to wade through it.
“No,” Zeke said. “As much as I would love to, that’s not what our life here is. Not what I want for Luna.” He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, gave me his full attention, and I damn near buckled under the weight of his gaze. It was a good thing I was sitting.
“Your boy,” he said, sipping his wine, “I owe him a lot. For protecting Luna.”
I shook my head. “You don’t owe him a thing. He was doing what was right. Luna is quickly becoming his best friend.”
“I like that,” he said. “That she’s got someone like him watching out for her. I especially like it because he’s not wanting to get into her pants.”
I grinned, because the way he said it was damn funny and there was also no judgement or distaste in his tone. Black Mountain was, for the most part, a progressive town. We’d encountered very little prejudice when Ryder came out. He did it without ceremony, without shame, and it was then I was most proud of David and myself as parents. To create a boy so beautiful, so special, to nurture a relationship where he felt confident in himself and us to make it something natural. Everyday.
Of course Josephine had some choice words to say about it.
And that was what she got in return. Some words.
I’d bitten my tongue plenty when it came to my mother-in-law, for the sake of peace, for David, and the fact I couldn’t be bothered dealing with her.
But when it came to my children, my first-born son and all his beauty, no fucking way would I bite my tongue. I’d tear off her head with my teeth before I let her spill any kind of bigoted bullshit at my beautiful boy. I told her as much to her face. With David beside me, holding my hand, supporting, agreeing. Never did I ask him to take sides between his mother and me, but he was always on mine. Always.
I told her that she’d never see her grandsons again if I heard so much as a whisper against Ryder. David had been steadfast in his support.
And wouldn’t you know it, the bitch kept her lips as tight as her asshole.
“He’s a little bit in love with her for sure,” I replied. “In the purest of ways.” I met his eyes.