Little Fury: Book 1 of The deadly Little Thing Trilogy
Little Fury: Chapter 18

Like all good cliches, my parents’ lawyers put all the assets they left me in a bank here in the Caymans. It was here or Switzerland, so I’m glad they chose here. I love the sun and sand. We make our way to the house we rented and settle in.

The house has a cook and housekeeper, so there is a stocked fridge and bar when we arrive. Marcus lets me have the master bedroom, and I love him for it. The master is stunning, with a gorgeous marble ensuite and a huge set of glass doors leading out to the deck. I drop my suitcase and can’t be bothered to unpack. Instead, I rummage through my stuff and grab a bathing suit. The ocean is calling to me, and I intend to go say hello to her right now.

I throw on the blue one-piece suit I have. It’s the first one I touch, so it wins the race to be first in the ocean. I peel off my clothes and step into the suit. It’s pale blue and ties behind my neck; the top covers my breasts and ties behind my back with a criss-crossing pattern, created by the strings holding the suit to my body. The bottoms are cheeky and ruched at the top of my ass.

I make my way back to the main space of the house. It’s one large open room. The kitchen, dining, and living rooms are all in the space.

The floors are a glossy white stone, the walls are a pale green. So pale that they look white. The stone on the floor runs up the fireplace mantle showing the true color of the walls beside it. Accents of a darker version of the wall color are thrown around the room with pillows and décor. The kitchen is white cabinets with a dark marble countertop and stainless-steel appliances.

The most amazing part of the house is the back wall of glass. The entire back of the house is floor to ceiling glass panes that fold onto each other opening that side of the house to the outside. And the outside is sight unto itself. Straight off the deck is the ocean. Waves and sand for miles, and they are beckoning me.

Marcus comes into the main room and laughs. “I wondered how long it would take you to go to the ocean.”

“And?”

“I thought maybe you would unpack first, but clearly, that is not the case.”

“Nope. Ocean first.” I laugh and head out of the house towards the water. The back of the house has a nice deck with a fire pit and BBQ; it’s landscaped with flowers and stone. This place is stunning, and it all leads to the ocean, taking my breath away.

Once I reach the water, I put my feet in, letting the waves lap against them. The water is warm and clear, its movement is hypnotic, pulling memories from my mind. Things I work at never thinking about.

The last time I was in the ocean was with my father. So many years ago now. So many different lives ago. I wonder what they would think of the Ava I am now. Would they be ashamed of me? Scared of me? Would they still want me to come home for the holidays?

The Ava I would have been had they not died would been vastly different from who I am today. Sometimes I wonder who I would have become had my parents not died. What kind of life would I have hoped to have? I doubt my hopes for my future would have included having killed my first man at 16. The version of Ava, who had tea parties with a stuffed goat and squirrel, would never have enjoyed making grown men cry and bleed.

Are you sure about that? This, Ava, she enjoys it. She’s good at it. What makes you think the earlier version of Ava wouldn’t have also enjoyed it?

I break my stare with the ocean, pulling my thoughts back in. I take one last moment holding those memories–the thoughts of the Ava I might have been, the parents I once had–as I walk out further into the ocean and dive under its surface. I break the surface of the water, letting it cascade from my body as I stand up, and with the water falling from me, the remnants of a life that was never to be, are washed away. I let the salty water take those last bits of who I might have been out with the tide.

I let the ocean have that, Ava.

Letting her go completely.

I stay in the water, floating, thinking about nothing. Just reveling in the feel of it. Only getting out when I see Marcus coming. He has a towel for me, and I smile at him as I walk towards him.

“Enjoy yourself?”

“I did.”

“I’m hungry, and I have dinner ready,’ he tells me.

“Yum.”

“You don’t even know what I made.”

“I don’t care; I’ll eat anything, you know this.”

When we return to the house, I go into my room and quickly rinse off the salt from my skin. I throw on a sundress from my closet see that Marcus put my clothes away for me. I brush out my hair and tie it into a braid, the plait falling to the middle of my back. Leaving my room, I replace Marcus in the kitchen, dishing out dinner. He made us grilled salmon with veggies and some rice.

“Looks good.”

“Thanks. The fridge is well stocked, so it was easy to throw this together. And the grill outside is a thing of beauty.”

I look at him with a small smile.

“What? Why are you smiling at me? I’ve made you dinner before.”

“I know. I sometimes forget how good a cook you are. I’m smiling because every single man I’ve ever spoken to has a solid, if not odd, love affair with grills.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “It’s the whole ‘I cooked this with fire’ thing.” I chuckle at his answer and dig in. “Symphony Number 7” by Beethoven is playing overhead.

“You found the sound system,” I say.

“I did. It’s a nice one too. The whole house is wired, including outside.” We fall back into silence as we finish eating. When I’m done, Marcus takes my plate and rinses it, placing it in the dishwasher. I stay seated at the island, pulling one of my legs up onto the seat and resting my head on my knee.

Marcus places a beer in front of me. I turn my head towards him. “Thanks.”

He nods at me and opens his beer, taking a swig. His eyes are on me as he does. I grab my bottle and mimic him.

The air in here is charged. The music above us is heavy and frantic in its pace. Marcus puts his beer down and lays his hands flat on the island. He drops his head between his shoulders, pushing against the counter. His muscles strain under his T-shirt. He lifts his head his eyes locked on mine. I watch his jaw flex, whatever he is thinking about showing there.

I don’t know what the fuck is happening between us. I mean, I do know, but I don’t understand what changed. When did it change, or did I even want it to?

Removing his hands from the countertop, his eyes never leaving mine. His green eyes are burning into me, causing a stir in my stomach not there before. I look away from him. The intensity of his stare is too much for me. He steps towards me, grips my chin, and tilts my face back up to his. I feel the energy radiating off him. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me? He doesn’t, though. Instead, he stares at me, his thumb replaceing my bottom lip dragging across it.

My tongue darts out tasting his skin. The action almost involuntary. His eyes darken, and I feel his grip on my chin tighten. He leans closer, my eyes closing, anticipating his lips on mine. My breath hitches but it doesn’t happen. I feel his breath on the shell of my ear.

“Not yet, Ava, we’re just getting started.” He whispers against my ear, his teeth nip my earlobe. I suck in a breath, at the whisper of a touch. “Goodnight, Ava,” he says quietly against my ear, releasing my chin and heads to his room.

I sit at the island for a while after he leaves me, my brain unsure of what to do with what just happened. This morning in the hotel could have been chalked up to morning confusion. Bodies can respond to things without it being intentional. But this. His mouth, his words–those were intentional. And I have no idea what to do with that. I wasn’t trained for this situation. Miss Bennett never prepared me to live alone with my best friend. She didn’t run a scenario with me that had my best friend telling me we were just getting started. Innuendos and all received.

My body responded to his so quickly, but my brain is fighting it. My brain cannot wrap itself around the fact that my best friend just bit my earlobe, and I didn’t hate it.