Little Fury: Book 1 of The deadly Little Thing Trilogy
Little Fury: Chapter 20

The sun streams into my bedroom, and I hear the roll of the waves in the distance. I love it here. I haven’t told Marcus yet, but I bought this house for us. I want us to retire here. Once we’re too old for this life, I want to come back here and watch the ocean until life decides it’s done with me.

I can hear someone in the kitchen, and I smell bacon. Whoever it is, they’re getting a big kiss from me.

I get out of bed and make my way to my bathroom. Once I’m done, I pad my way over the cold marble floors to the kitchen looking for the magical human who is making bacon.

“Good morning, Miss Ava.”

“Good morning. Miss Evelyn.”

“Miss Ava, I’m too old to be a miss.”

“You keep telling me this, but I disagree. Age is only a number, and I will never believe you are 76. I hope to be half as amazing as you at that age.”

“Hush, Miss Ava. Now sit, I have your breakfast ready for you in two minutes.”

“I’ll make my coffee,” I say, nodding at her before turning to the coffee maker. She nods back at me before returning to the food she’s cooking.

I hear a door open and close on the other side of the house. The last couple of weeks have been interesting for Marcus and me. Since the day in the shower, there has been a level of awareness between us that was never there before. Looks are longer. Our bodies replace reasons to touch each other more often.

“Morning, ladies,” Marcus says as he leans over me, his chest brushing against my arm. He steals my coffee and takes it for himself. I sigh, get up, and make another.

“Mr. Marcus, good morning.”

“Morning, Evelyn.” She likes him. He flirts with her just enough to make her smile and blush whenever he talks to her. She places our plates in front of us.

“Thank you, this looks amazing.”

“Yes, thank you,” Marcus adds, kissing the older woman on the cheek. She pushes him away, telling him to stop that, but she says it with the biggest smile and blush on her cheeks.

“All right, you two, I have stocked your fridge and freezer. All the food has instructions on how to heat it up.”

“You didn’t have to do that. Ava and I can cook, and there are a lot of amazing restaurants on the island.”

“I know, Mr. Marcus, but I miss having my kids to dote on, and Miss Ava reminds me of my daughter, so let me do this.”

“As you wish,” he says to her. I smile behind my hand.

“All right, you two. I will see you in four days.”

“Bye, Miss Evelyn “

“Bye, dear.”

Marcus walks her to the door and steps outside to speak to the driver, making sure he takes her home and helps her into the house.

“She get away ok there, Buttercup?” I ask.

“She did. Grant will make sure she gets home and settled.”

“Inconceivable.” I muse.

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” I laugh so hard at his impression of Inigo Montoya that I drop my fork, which in turn knocks my toast off my plate, and that leads to me trying to catch it before it hits the floor, which in turn becomes me hitting my knee against the counter as my toast falls to its death.

“Ow, fuck.” I yell as I feel the pain. The thunk from the contact is loud. “Ow ow ow. Motherfucking fucker, that hurt.” Marcus comes over to me, laughing. I glare at him. “It’s not funny. That hurt. I’m going to have a fucking bruise.”

“Ava, I have seen you take a grown man down after being sliced by a big-ass knife. I have also seen you snap a dislocated finger back in place with little more than a grunt. So, maybe your reaction to banging your knee on the counter is a little dramatic. “

“Those things didn’t hurt, thanks to the adrenaline pumping through me on account of the trying not to get killed by the assholes I’m trying to kill. The counter attacked me out of nowhere. I wasn’t prepared.” I drawl.

“Harry would be so disappointed in that. He taught you to always be prepared.” Marcus tells me with a straight face.

Neither of us can stop the laughter that follows.

I move my leg and suck in a breath as I see blood on my knee. Marcus sees it at the same time, and he lifts me out of the chair, placing me on the counter so he can look at the injury. “You didn’t say it cut you,” he scolds me.

“I didn’t know it did.” Marcus lifts my leg and places my foot on my chair as he examines my knee.

“I’m going to grab the first aid kit; be right back.” I want to tell him not to bother, just hand me a paper towel, and I’ll be on my way, but I decide to let him fuss if he wants to. He’s back quickly with the kit in his hand.

“Let’s have a look.” He says as he opens the case, pulling out several items. He cleans the blood off my leg with a sterile saline solution on some gauze. I look down and see its bleeding more than I initially realized.

“Ava, I don’t know how you did this, but I think it needs some stitches. It’s a little gapey.”

“Gapey? Is that the medical term we’re going with?”

“I feel like it describes your gash very well.”

“Marcus, I’m not going for stitches. So, you can either replace some glue, pinch the edges back together with some steri strips, or stitch it up yourself.”

“Ava, I fucking hate stitching you up. It makes my stomach all fluttery.”

“Marcus, you are a big scary mafia man, and you have made up the word gapey and told me I make your stomach all fluttery.”

“Not big and scary yet, but soon,” he laughs.

“What’s it going to be?” I press.

“There is no glue in this kit, and I would bet you a grand that Steri strips won’t hold it together.”

“So? That means what?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck off, Ava.”

“Fluttery tummy, here comes Marcus.” He throws his head back and lets out a big laugh. I love that sound from him—that real laugh. I don’t hear it nearly enough. He sighs when he stops laughing and grabs the needle, thread, and other things from the first aid kit.

He carefully rubs the area with a bit of numbing cream. “It says to leave it on the area for 6 minutes for the full numbing to take effect.”

“K.”

He’s standing between my legs as he works, his shoulder to my chest. Once he’s done applying the cream, he turns to face me. We’re close like this. I’m at eye level with him for the first time. I can’t help staring at his eyes up close. I have never had the right words to describe his eyes. They are a lot like Harry’s green eyes, but Marcus’s have these darker green flecks, and they are just spectacular to look at. They’re easy to get a little lost in.

His hands are on my thighs, his thumbs making small circles over my skin. I take my eyes off his. Being this close with his hands on me as he stares into my eyes is too much. I break the connection. “Solid marks, though, for us with the Princess Bride reference extravaganza.”

Marcus sighs quietly. “I’m not sure it was worth your injury, but I agree we killed that bit.”

I give him a big grin. He picks up the needle and thread, “Ready?”

“As ready as I always am for stitches.” He gives me another low chuckle and then starts. The first poke of the needle causes me to suck in a breath, and I grab his forearm. ‘You, okay?”

“I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt. I was expecting it to.” I look at him a little sheepishly. He ignores my embarrassment and works fast to place four stitches.

“There, all done,” he says, tying off the final stitch. “Try not to fight any more inanimate objects. Yeah?”

With the stitches bandaged, Marcus lifts me from the counter and tells me to sit and relax while he cleans up. I happily listen to him and make my way outside, stopping to grab my book from the table and heading out to the hammock. The warm day and the gentle sway of the hammock lull me to sleep quickly. I wake up a little as I feel Marcus get into the hammock with me, but he’s well-practised at it, so he is able to slip onto it smoothly.

I snuggle into him, my face close to his shoulder. One of my hands replaces his, and the other wraps itself around his arm. I throw my leg over his, feeling the pull of my stitches with the movement. I see Marcus reach for my book, careful to keep it open to my page before placing it on his chest, as my eyes close and I drift off.