Bound To You: Marcus Volturi

Chapter 71: Miss Me?

"Marcus." I stammer, getting up on rickety nervous legs as I'm walking towards him.

Marcus stands unharmed of course, smiling from the sight of me and in that moment, after not seeing him for nearly a month, he's never looked so beautiful. "Marcus." I repeat, his name rolling off my tongue. "Oh God!" I fall into his arms and he encases me in his strong hold.

"My darling." His face is buried in my hair, inhaling my scent, kissing me anywhere he can while embracing me. He hoists me onto his waist, with my legs around him. He stares intensely into my eyes. "I can't believe I've forgotten how handsome you are." He compliments, stroking my hair and trailing his fingers down my cheeks.

"How are you here?" I ask him between kisses, out of breath from surprise. "I had to see you as soon as I got the opportunity." He explains, carrying me into the living room. "I was afraid that boarding a plane with my name on the ticket would set off Jeanie's alarm bells, but luckily...." He pauses, setting me down on the sofa with a blanket around my shoulders.

"She hasn't seemed to notice." He finishes. I sigh in relief. "And if she has, she clearly thinks it's nothing worth worrying about." He smiles softly. "Yeah," I pat him softly. "You're nothing important." I tease and he seems to ignore my comment, sniffing the air.

"What's that sweet aroma?" He questions, making his way into the kitchen, searching. "Ah." He comes across the shortbread biscuits and unwraps them from their foil. "These look lovely." He compliments, taking one to evaluate.

"Very nice colour, crisp yet soft. Covered in sugar." He observes. He turns to me, shortbread in hand. "May I try it?" He asks politely and I scoff at him. "Uh..yeah." I give him a 'doh' face and he smiles at me, taking a bite. "Mm." He chews quietly, ridiculously neat.

He finishes his shortbread and returns to his seat beside me. "Would you like to watch television?" He holds up the remote which I take from him.

"Might as well. Since you've woken me up at this ungodly hour." I huff, switching the TV on. I haven't watched much TV since I got here. I hope to God they've got programmes in English and not just French." I groan.

"It's fine." Marcus leans into me, his arm around my shoulders. "I'll translate for you." He offers, snuggling. "I think I'll pass merci." I snark, going back to the bedroom to get the book I was reading. "Besides, you were awake when I came in." He points out. "Yeah yeah." I mumble, turning the music channel on to play in the background.

I flick open my book to the page I was on and start reading. "Who's the killer?" Marcus asks, leaning over me to read the title of the book. "I don't know. I'm about to find out." I shrug, skimming the lines until I reach the name. We sit silently and comfortably for at least five minutes, me with my head on his shoulder and he with his arms enveloping me, when I strike gold.

"Oh my God! No way! I would never had suspected him!" I outburst, clamping my hand over my mouth. "Oh my fuck."
Marcus gives me a few odd stares before he realises what I'm talking about. "The killer in the book?" He prompts. "Yeah. That's such a shock. I can't tell you who he is though...just in case you want to read it." I explain and he smiles at me.

"I think I will after you finish it. It sounds interesting." He pulls me into his lap so I close my book. That way, I can give him more attention. "Don't stop reading on my account." He says softly, handing the book back to me. "I can read any time I want to. I haven't seen you in nearly a month." I wrap my arms around his neck.

He smiles approvingly. "I feel honoured that you wish to spend so much time with me." He teases. "When we met, you hated me. You were such a feisty thing." He remembers. "I still am." I correct. "That angry, hateful side will never go away. It's built in so I can protect and defend myself."

He nods. "I understand." He starts to thread his fingers through my hair. "We should cut it again soon." He tugs the quiff. "This part always grows so quickly." He states, brushing it up with his hand. "But you're lucky it suits you." He compliments, lifting me up and carrying me to the bedroom.

"Shall I stay with you until you are asleep?" He asks, lowering me onto the bed, while he hunts for my pyjamas. "If you want to." I shrug, trying to stay cool. I don't really want him to know how desperately I want him to stay. He retrieves my favourite Spiderman pyjamas and gestures for me to undress.

I sit still, doing nothing, hoping he'll understand my hint. "Ah." He realises. "Fine." He adds softly, coming over to undress me himself. He lifts my t shirt and slowly, as he always does, peels it off me, running his hands down my chest as he does. His fingers linger over the chest scars for a second before moving onto my jeans.

"Does it irritate you that I don't have boobs?" I smirk, staring him in the face for his reaction. He unbuttons the jeans, pulling them off gently, before he looks me in the eye. "No. You are what you are." He shrugs. "But when you look at my chest, it's like you're disappointed." I summarise and he gives me a sharp look.

"There's is nothing about you that I find disappointing." He climbs on top of me. "You don't wear dresses, you don't have long hair. You don't wear make up so why should I be so surprised or disappointed that you have nothing there." He gestures to my chest.

"You're a beautiful creature, Lee. I don't know whether to call you man or woman. All I know is that you're beautiful and I love you." He reaches down to kiss me lightly on my lips. He tilts my chin, staring into my eyes. "Do you love me too?" He asks gently. "You know I do." I respond without question.

Marcus smiles and hands me my pyjamas. "Come on, Spiderman, time to get dressed." He jokes.
I slip them on and climb beneath the covers like a five year old. He tucks me in carefully, making sure I'm warm. "Comfortable?" He asks softly and I nod approval. "Sit with me." I say softly, but in my mind, it sounds like begging.

He pulls off his waistcoat and shoes and undoes his tie. He slides underneath with me, and rolls over so he rests his head on my stomach. I cradle his head and smooth his hair. It's an oddly comforting gesture.

"Sleep, Lee." He mumurs after a few minutes. "I can't help thinking about the kids at the home. The ones I lived with." I summarise. "What about them?" He prompts, seemingly indifferent. "Well, if Jeanie dies, what happens to the children? Do you kill them too?"