Esme
I feel good. Unburdened. Hopeful.
For a little bit.
Just like with the tea, though, the peace of the piano leaves me as soon as the moment ends. All my old anxieties rush back in.
And the closer I get to home, the more I realize I don’t know what Artem’s return means for us.
I’m fairly certain he isn’t planning on staying in this town forever. And I’m starting to realize that I won’t be able to bear being parted from him again.
The first time was different. I was reeling from the shock and trauma of bloodshed and violence.
I had just killed another man—in self-defense, obviously but it had still shaken me.
I was terrified of bringing my child into a world marred by such tragedy, and I was thinking a lot about Cesar, too.
He had hated being the son of a don. I could see that now. He had slowly wilted under the unforgiving pressure of what he was supposed to be.
Papa expected so much from him at such a young age. It turned Cesar, from the kind, sensitive man he was, into someone colder, harder… more ruthless.
And in the process, it broke him.
I didn’t quite know how much was an act and how much was really him.
I still don’t.
And honestly, I’m not sure I want to.
But like Artem has told me countless times before, life is not black or white. It’s grey.
There are no heroes. There are no villains.
There are just people who make choices.
When I slip back into the apartment, I hear Phoenix’s familiar gurgling sounds and I know he’s up. My breasts are feeling a little heavy and I know I’ll have to feed him soon.
But I slow as I approach the bedroom door. I hang back and peek inside.
Artem is sitting up on the bed, his back resting against the wall. He has Phoenix hoisted up against his legs that form a backrest of sorts.
Phoenix reaches to graze Artem’s nose. Artem laughs and lets him pull at it to his heart’s content. Something inside me twists into a thick knot and I move into the room.
“There you are, beautiful,” Artem says, turning his dark, sexy eyes on me.
It hasn’t been that long a span of time that we’ve been apart.
But his body has changed considerably.
I didn’t think it could be improved upon, but somehow, he has found away. He is all hard muscle now, not an ounce of fat. Honestly, there are moments he looks like he is carved out of marble.
His abs are defined, creating sharp ridges in his abdomen, adding a new row to his six pack. There are a few new scars on his body, one I identify as the stab wound that had almost killed him, and the other as the bullet wound near his shoulder.
His jaw has a healthy layer of stubble, longer than what I’m used to, but it still suits him. He looks sexy in a feral, animalistic way that makes my clit throb.
And his eyes… his goddamn eyes. Those haven’t changed a bit.
They are just like I remember them. Intense, strong, powerful and staring at me with a possessiveness that I am just now realizing I have been craving since the moment I saw him last.