The Marriage Contract

by Rose Wulf

  He reeled for a moment at the woman’s words.

  A soft, confused voice floated down the hall. “Batson?”

  Lowering his voice to a growl, Batson said, “Listen, you conniving bitch, you stay the fuck away from my wife. Mind your own goddamned business. You’ve done enough damage.”

  Yvette drew an audible breath. “Ophelia is my granddaughter, I will not—”

  Moving to the hall, toward Lia, Batson said, “Guess you reap what you sow.” He jabbed the end call button significantly harder than was necessary and noted with irritation that the screen protector had warped. Apparently, he’d failed to keep his face cool enough. Dammit.

  “Batson?” Lia called again. She’d sat up by the time he made it into the bedroom, but she was still pale. If he didn’t know better, he’d have worried she were ill. She spied the phone before he tossed it carelessly onto the bedside table and her lips dipped into a frown. “Who was that?”

  He released a breath and sat beside her. “Never mind,” he said, settling a hand on her shoulder. “How do you feel? Do you want some water?”

  She opened her mouth but hesitated to answer. “I don’t … I don’t know,” she finally whispered. Tears built in front of her eyes and her gaze dropped to her lap. “Gods, Batson,” she murmured, “I don’t even know what to think right now.” The heartache in her voice would have been obvious to a deaf man.

  Batson wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest in an attempt to comfort her. She immediately nuzzled closer, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Reaching over and brushing some of her hair back, he quietly said, “I’ve got you, baby.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, Lia’s always gentle hands twisted tightly in his shirt. When she spoke, she didn’t bother to lift her head. “Grandma told him, Batson.”

  His arms tightened around her.

  “She told a complete stranger,” Lia continued, disbelief coloring her voice. “Our secret.” Her body trembled when she drew a breath. “I don’t understand … why.”

  “Pretty sure she was hoping to get you to cheat on me,” Batson said. “Or just motivate you to leave me.”

  Lia tensed for a moment and straightened. “What?” She searched his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  He scowled and jerked a thumb at his phone. “While you were out, I called Yvette.”

  Lia’s eyes widened.

  “She said some shit.” A lot of shit, actually. He needed to make another call—to his parents—and ask a couple of hard questions.

  Lia shook her head, leaning back, desperate denial building on her face. “No,” she said. “No, Grandma wouldn’t do something like that. She wouldn’t.”

  “Lia,” Batson started, as gently as he could manage, “why else would she tell some random human asshole about us? Why else would she do that and not tell you?” He wanted to argue more, but he wasn’t trying to upset her worse.

  A tear rolled down her cheek. She heard him, then. Even if she didn’t want to. “Did she at least say why?”

  “She thinks she’s saving you,” Batson replied. “Giving you your future back.” The words were barely past his lips when a forbidden thought whispered at the back of his mind. What if Yvette wasn’t entirely wrong? Her methods were crap, but what if her goal was something Lia wasn’t opposed to?

  His jaw locked at the surge of volatile emotion that followed the thought. For so long, he’d taken for granted they were on the same page, at least in most respects. They’d never talked specifically about feelings, though. There had never been a point, and he hadn’t wanted to seem like a damn fool for declaring he’d fallen for the woman he’d never chosen in the first place. The woman who’d never chosen him. He hadn’t wanted to lose what pieces of her he got.

  “Saving me?” Lia repeated incredulously. She wiped at her cheek. “She betrayed me!” The air stirred softly as she pulled in a shaky breath. “Oh, Gods,” she whispered, a hand flying to her mouth. “She told someone … do you think … that counts?”

  Batson arched a brow, momentarily confused. Shit. Hopefully, it didn’t, since Yvette hadn’t signed their contract, but they’d never been privy to the details of the agreement struck between their parents. It stood to reason there was a risk. He leaned across Lia and snatched his phone off the nightstand, having to press a little harder than usual to use the touchscreen thanks to having warped the protector. There wasn’t time to peel it off.

  “Wait,” Lia said, reaching out to still his hands before he punched the call button.

  He looked back at her. “What?”

  “What if,” Lia started, swallowing visibly, “what if it does? Count, I mean.” She curled her fingers into his forearm. “What will we do?”

  He lowered the phone to his lap and took her hand into his free one. “What do you want to do?”

  She chewed on her lip for a long minute. Another tear rolled down her cheek while she thought and Batson fought to keep from wiping it away. “I—” Her chest rose with a large intake of air. “I need to talk to her.”

  Batson cursed under his breath. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “It’s the obvious thing to do,” Lia said.

  “You shouldn’t meet her alone.”

  Lia smiled, though the expression was bittersweet at best. “She won’t come if you’re going to be there, Batson. We both know that.”

  That was true enough. It was no secret Yvette hated him. He had a better understanding of why now, and as he’d long suspected, the answer pissed him off. “Bring her to your place. I’ll just be home. If I hear shouting, I’ll come over.”

  Her mouth scrunched to one side while she mulled over the idea.

  He smirked. “Or you could meet in public and I could hide in your purse.”

  The outrageous suggestion had the desired effect of startling her into a soft, short-lived laugh. “No, that won’t be happening,” she said. But her expression had softened. She inhaled. “Grandma has all my keys, my wallet, and my phone. I’ll use that obligation to get her here. We’ll go with your first idea.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. He held out his phone, figuring she’d need it to make the call. “Why does she have your purse? She never answered that when I called earlier.”

  Lia frowned at his phone. “I think she took it so I’d have no reasonable choice but to get in the car with Keith.”

  “Keith.” Undoubtedly the bastard who’d dropped this bombshell on them. The one Yvette had tried setting Lia up with.

  “You nearly destroyed your phone again,” Lia mumbled. “It’s amazing the store still sells you these things.”

  He chuckled bitterly. “Are you kidding? They fuckin’ love me. I spend a shit ton of money in there.”

  She grinned briefly at his joke and pulled up his recent call list. He hadn’t deleted it yet, so her grandmother’s number was still there. She gave his hand a squeeze as she put the device to her ear. “Stay with me,” she murmured.

  He wrapped his arm around her back and pressed his lips to her temple. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  They listened to the phone ring in silence for so long Batson started to wonder if Yvette intended to ignore the call. She’d associate the number with him now, after all. But at the last moment, the line connected. He couldn’t make out the old bat’s words, but he could hear the tone of her voice. Remorseless and calm.

  “I don’t care if you’d rather meet somewhere else,” Lia snapped when her initial polite suggestion was apparently met with refusal. “You have my keys and my money, so unless you want me to bring Batson, you’re coming to my house.”

  Sounded reasonable to him.

  “We have a lot to talk about, actually,” Lia said. “And I expect you to work hard on your apology for all this. I trusted you, Grandma.”

  Yvette said something, her voice rising almost enough for Batson to hear, and Lia sucked in a breath so quickly, Batson felt a ripple of air over his skin.

  “Do
n’t you dare. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”

  Yvette interrupted her, and Lia interrupted her right back. “You can’t expect me to respect an Elder who’s betrayed me!”

  Batson ground his teeth. She’d pulled the damn Elder card? The protective side of him wanted badly to take the phone and yell at the bitch. Threaten her into submission until she’d returned Lia’s belongings and crawled out of their lives with her tail between her fucking legs. None of that would be happening, however, so he focused on maintaining a reasonable body temperature.

  “Well, I’m going to have to, so yes, I expect you tomorrow,” Lia said curtly. “Before noon.” She pulled the phone from her ear and jabbed the screen until the call disconnected. A large sigh rushed from her lungs and she slumped against him, her hand—and the phone—falling to his lap. “It occurs to me,” she mumbled, “you’ll be at work when she’s here.”

  “I already took the day off, remember?” He gave her a squeeze. “So. You’ve got a spare key to your car, right?”

  “Yeah,” Lia said. “But my license is in my wallet. With my grandmother.”

  He cursed.

  Lia pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I appreciate the thought.” She straightened, her eyes shining with reluctance. “I need to email my boss. I need to … I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s something.”

  Batson cupped her jaw and sealed his lips over hers in a lingering kiss. He pulled back slowly and murmured, “The email is a good idea. I don’t know what else there is to do right now. I have to finish unloading my truck, but come get me if you need company, okay?”

  She looked into his eyes for several long seconds. “When you’re done with your truck,” she said softly, “come over. Please.”

  Like hell he would deny that.

  ****

  Ophelia woke slowly Monday morning. She was tucked beneath a strong, muscular arm and her head rested comfortably on a warm, sturdy chest. Her body pressed along his side and one leg curled over his calf. It wasn’t often she got to wake up in Batson’s arms. Yet somehow, she’d managed to be so lucky twice in nearly as many days. For the moment, Ophelia allowed herself to simply enjoy that fact and not to delve into why he was in her bed this time. Or why they weren’t naked. Waking up like this was nice. It lifted her spirit and brought a smile to her lips.

  “Morning,” he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

  She hummed softly against him and shimmied up enough to look into his hazy red eyes. “Good morning,” she replied quietly. She leaned forward as he lifted the hand at her back to her head and their lips met in a leisurely kiss. He dragged his mouth over hers, using the friction to part her lips, and slipped his tongue inside. She moaned faintly at the first taste of him and ran her fingers over his skin, up to his broad shoulders.

  Batson rolled her onto her back with a knee between her legs, bracing his weight on a single forearm. He broke the kiss and trailed his tongue over her jaw to her neck while his free hand reached down until it came into contact with her bare thigh. She threaded her fingers in his hair as he massaged her throat and stroked his burning touch up her leg.

  “What … time is it?” Grandma wasn’t due until eleven, again, but still. She didn’t want to be caught in bed.

  “Early enough,” he muttered as he dipped his tongue into the groove at the base of her throat. His fingers found the hem of her panties and trailed inward. He playfully nipped at the skin above her breasts as he rubbed a thumb over her clit, on the outside of her underwear.

  Ophelia gasped. He wasn’t wasting any time!

  Batson lifted a hungry ruby gaze to her as he nudged her knees apart, removing his hand, and pushed the skirt of her nightgown up to her hips. “It’s time for my breakfast,” he said with a wicked, thrilling smirk. He swept his hands down and took her panties with them, moving out of the way until he had unfettered access to her most private places.

  She flushed despite herself. “Batson,” she said in what was supposed to be a scandalized tone and absolutely came out one step above a moan.

  He lowered himself and spread his hands on the interior of her thighs. “Spread these beautiful thighs for me, Lia,” he said.

  Her body complied on instinct.

  Batson bowed his head ran his tongue over her, sending an initial jolt of pleasure through her. Then he buried his face thoroughly in his goal, spreading her folds and gorging himself on her as if her pussy were, in fact, a meal. She felt his tongue and his lips, stroking, kissing, licking, sucking, swirling over her—everywhere he could reach. He slipped his tongue into her channel and twisted it around, working her up, his hands going to her hips when they started to buck.

  Ophelia moaned low in her throat and he receded, devouring his way, slowly, up, in a desperate direction. She writhed against the bed as he made first contact with her clit. A teasing touch of his probing tongue, then a retreat. Then he returned with intent, focusing his attention there, and simultaneously plunged two fingers deep inside her. Her back came off the mattress and a scream of ecstasy poured from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her hard and fast.

  She was breathless and tender when he finally lifted his head, still licking his lips. He held her gaze as he withdrew his fingers.

  “That was fucking beautiful,” he said with a grin.

  Something between a laugh and a snort escaped her. “You have such a way with words, Batson.”

  His grin widened. “Are you accusing me of having a dirty mouth?”

  “I know you have a dirty mouth,” she returned. She licked her lips, glanced over at the clock she kept in her room, and scooted around him until she could move her feet to the floor. “Now I need to wash up before I get dressed.” She stood and took hold of his nearest arm. “If you come join me, I’ll return the favor.”

  “Hell, yes,” he replied.

  Waking up with Batson had been the start to the day Ophelia needed. Granted, she hadn’t anticipated him eating her out—at all, let alone first thing—but she was in no way complaining. She could only hope she’d made him feel half as good when she’d gone down on him in the shower. Afterward, they’d lathered each other up, he’d even insisted on washing her hair, and by the time they were dressed again, she honestly felt … pampered.

  From an ordinary perspective, that probably seemed ridiculous, but they’d showered together maybe five times in ten years of marriage. And, really, none of the other times had felt as intimate. So even though he’d retreated back to his half of the duplex once they were dry and dressed, and after a lingering kiss, she felt good. She felt really good.

  That was exactly the spirit she needed to be in, the feeling she needed to hold on to, when Grandma Yvette’s seafoam Buick swung into her driveway at half-past eleven that morning. For a woman who was never late, she’d been late two mornings in a row. Ophelia did not appreciate that pattern. Or the implications behind it.

  You can do this, Ophelia.

  There were several points she needed to discuss with her grandmother. Keith, obviously. Stealing her purse and lying about it. Deliberately trying to sabotage her and Batson’s relationship. But Batson had told her about his conversation with her, and there was another point they were both more than a little unsettled over. In her explanation to Batson, she’d apparently said something about a biracial experiment.

  Neither of them knew exactly what that meant. Only that it didn’t sound good.

  Ophelia watched from the window as her grandmother climbed from the car, and a mixture of relief and frustration filled her at the sight of her missing purse in her grandmother’s hands. She moved to the door and pulled it open. “You’re late.”

  Yvette didn’t falter. “You said before noon.” She did, however, pause on the small porch and cast a wary glance to the side. “If your half-breed husband is inside, I’m leaving.”

  Ophelia frowned, reached out, and snatched her purse from her grandmother’s hand. “He’s not,” she said shortly. She wanted to argue
the first part, but it wasn’t technically inaccurate. Instead, she turned, adding, “You should be more respectful. He is family.”

  The older woman stepped inside, shut the door, and said, “That salamander is no family of mine. By rights, he should be no family of yours. You’ve been forced into a nightmare, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

  Consciously keeping her breathing steady, Ophelia dug her phone out of the purse. Of course, it was dead. She huffed out an aggravated sigh and moved to set it on the wireless charger resting on her kitchen island. “Have a seat, Grandma. We have things to talk about.”

  “Do we have to talk here? You have your keys back, let’s go—”

  “Yes, here,” Ophelia said firmly. She pointed at the sofa. “Sit down. You owe me an explanation.”

  Yvette frowned but moved into the living room. She claimed Ophelia’s lone recliner instead of the couch and crossed one leg over the other at the knee. “I’m sorry for making you think your purse was stolen. I know that was manipulative and caused you stress.”

  “That’s what you’re apologizing for?” Ophelia asked as she sat on the sofa and faced her Elder. “That’s all?”

  Silence held between them for a moment. “I didn’t like deceiving you,” Yvette said. “I am sorry about that. I felt it was necessary, but I am still sorry for it.”

  Ophelia took a breath and held it for a count of five. It was a start, however small. “Keith said you told him about me and Batson before I’d met him. I take it that means you lied about moving? That that entire tour was staged?”

  Yvette nodded. “Yes.” Her expression softened. “I’ve already bought the house. I bought it for you, Ophelia. I hoped you could move in there when you start your new, free life.”

  Her mouth fell open a little. “Are you … serious?”