I pull her hand to my lips and press a kiss to the back of her fingers.
She grins. “I love it.”
But there’s something bothering her still. I can tell. Something dancing in her eyes. For a moment, we sit in silence as people in puffy coats and snow-capped fire escapes pass us by.
Finally, Dove breaks the silence. “I have a…I don’t know. A weird question.”
“I have a weird answer.”
“When we go inside, should I call you Poe?”
Even the mention of my old scene name makes my cheeks go hot with burning shame. I feel myself wince. “That name is dead. Just Dorian.”
Relief crosses her expression, but I can tell she’s trying to hide it. Instead, she just nods. “Okay.”
“Orsir, if you’re feeling frisky.”
That makes her grin. “Yes, sir.”
The cabbie is getting an earful, and is probably grateful when we make it to our destination. He slows to a stop on the familiar street. The unassuming brownstone is frosted with a coat of white. The reddish steps have been salted, but a layer of snow lines the pillars that outline the steps. The blinds are drawn, but there’s a soft glow coming from inside.
The last time I was here, I was stumbling down those steps with that hollowed out, sick feeling of someone who had just royally fucked up the rest of his life.
The building is just a building. I remind myself of that, but I find myself gripping the handlebar all the same.
Dove’s eyes flit over me. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
She can read me like a book.
I crook my finger. “Kiss me, and then I’ll answer.”
She crawls over. She cradles my face in her hand and guides my face against hers.
Against her mouth, I mumble, “Now pull my hair.”
As we kiss, her flingers slide into my curls. The scrape of her nails on my scalp sends a shiver through me. Slowly, she takes a handful and grips tight. The sharp pricks of pain ground me, centering me back into my body.
It scratches an itch. The noise that escapes my throat is something like a purr.
Behemoth would be jealous.
Dove seals the kiss. “Well?”
“Yes. I’m ready.”
She gives my bottom lip one last nip and then releases me from her grip, pulling away. My lips tingle in her absence. They miss her already.
I pay the cabbie and we get out. Dove reaches back, wiggling her fingers. I take her invitation and slide my hand on hers. Together, we climb the steps to the Seekers’ Club.
A total of five steps, and it might as well be a mountain. Even though my mind knows, logically, this is a safe place now, my body recoils. My shoes nearly lose traction on a patch of ice. The bitter cold nips at my exposed neck like an angry dog. My legs are moving uncharacteristically slow as we climb.
But Dove’s hand is warm in mine. She gives me a little squeeze.
Everything is going to be okay.
At the top of the steps, I pull out my phone. I check the updated code, then punch it into the keypad beside the door. The light blinks green and the door unlocks.
We enter, and the house embraces us in a warm hug.
