“Baby, she’s spent her entire life being used and violated by men. I’m the only man she’s ever chosen of her free will. I’m protective of her and it’s partly because of that, partly because I’m human, and lastly because I’m a man and I fuckin’ hate that my kind has put her through a lifetime of shit. You say you’re gonna fix her up with a huge dude that I can’t imagine looks any less scary in this world than the other, I’m gonna react. Cut me some slack.”
“And cutting you some slack would mean allowing you your erroneous reaction, which was insulting, and forgiving you for it even if you haven’t admitted you were in the wrong and apologized,” she returned.
Noc fought a grin. “Yeah, that’d be what cutting me some slack means.”
“All right, Noctorno, I shall ‘cut you some slack.’”
He didn’t need to fight a grin anymore.
“Babe,” he said shortly. “Making something else crystal clear right now, something I don’t want to tell you again, I do not like being called Noctorno.”
“I have heard you say that, repeatedly. But it is your name, it’s a regal, manly name, and when you’re being vexing it’s mostly when you’re being very much a man, and a high-handed one to boot, so that’s how I’ll refer to you. And I will admit I’m not beneath using something I know annoys you to do just that after you’ve annoyed me.”
Noc sighed.
Franka held his gaze.
“It’s good you taste so goddamned sweet, or even with all the rest, you might not be worth it,” he muttered.
“I do hope you jest,” she bit out.
“Just finding things that annoy you that I can use after you’ve annoyed me.”
She glared at him.
Then she burst out laughing.
Noc stared at her.
Fuck, he’d never seen or heard her laugh like that. Not like that. Totally giving into it. Totally giving him all of it.
Christ, even her laughter sounded like a purr.
Beautiful.
She was still doing it when she undid her seatbelt and erased the distance between them, putting her laughing mouth to his and sliding her hand up his thigh.
“I do believe you need to feed me, darling. I’m quite famished.”
He couldn’t stay ticked. Not after what she just gave him and now, with her mouth on his, hearing her humor in her voice and seeing her eyes dance in the dashboard lights.
“Best get you to some food, then,” he muttered, brushing his mouth against hers.
He was about to pull away when she caught him with her hand cupping his cheek.
“We balance worlds,” she said softly.
He felt those words in his gut.
“Yeah,” he replied softly.
“You’re my type too, Noc, even though I didn’t know it until I met you,” she shared.
Fuck.
That did it.
They had a booking. They didn’t have the time to sit in his SUV and have a conversation.
But it was important and it had to be had.
So they had it.
Now they did not have time for him to make out with her the way he wanted to make out with her to show his appreciation of not only how she ended an argument, but what she’d just said.
But it was important.
So he took that time.
They were twenty minutes late for their reservation.
The busy restaurant sat them regardless.
And Noc was not surprised that every man followed Frannie with his eyes as she passed, which meant no way in fuck he could wipe the satisfied grin off his face that all that was her was all his.
He was also not surprised his Frannie liked shrimp étouffée better than pizza.
By a lot.
Chapter Sixteen
My Command
Franka
“Noc?”
“Mm?”
Gods, I loved it when he made that noise.
I also loved how he held my fingers laced in his.
But in that very moment what I loved most was how he was lazily circling his thumb on the inside of my wrist, even if he did it as he drove (seeing as it was my view that it was probably far safer to operate his vehicle with two hands).
We were just then heading to his home after an utterly sumptuous dinner, the like I’d never had. Such flavors. Complicated. Rich. Spicy. Decadent.
This world seemed rushed. It was loud. It did not smell very good. I found it disconcerting there were only glimpses of nature here and there—along avenues, trees growing up from stone pavements. Although there was great beauty in (some) of the architecture, I was uncertain how I felt about the overall look, sound and smell of the place.
But the food was wonderful.
And Noc’s company…as ever, there was none better.
“On our journey to dinner, you mentioned your father and stepmother,” I noted.
“Yeah?” Noc prompted when I said no more.
“Although I know a good deal about King Ludlum and his history, that’s history from the other world. Due to circumstances being what they were, you know all about my family, and unfortunately in the case of my parents, you’ve met them. In discussions, you’ve mentioned your family but you haven’t shared much but anecdotes.”
Noc, ever generous, did not dillydally in giving me a reply.
But regardless, I thought with a smile, as he’d said, what was his was mine and therefore what he did was not dillydally in giving me just that.
Pieces of him.
All of which were mine.
“Probably won’t surprise you that it’s all the same,” he said. “My dad’s name’s Ludlum Hawthorne and he kept the tradition of saddling his kids with crazy-ass names that’ll have one purpose, they’ll get real good at fighting because every asshat in school that gives them shit about their names’ll get a fist in his face.”