M aeve Sowards was woken up in the middle of the night. Strong, fast knocks fell against her door. Someone better be about to die, she thought. Or she’d kill them herself.
She went downstairs, checking the kitchen and living room to ensure her uncle wasn’t home. It was the second weekend of the month, he’d be lost in a brothel in Glasgow with his friend, but with that bastard she could never be too sure. With a sigh, Maeve opened the door.
It was Thomas.
That night thunder danced through the skies and illuminated the town. It was pouring rain and cold, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Thomas looked up at her, taking a step forward to shelter himself from the rain, leaning against the door frame. Maeve chuckled.
All collected and composed, how long would it last? A word? A smile? The sudden urge to find out made her shake with excitement. She leaned in closer to him.
“It’s late, Thomas…” she whispered his name with a roll of her tongue, licking her lips right after. She grabbed the edge of his coat, feeling the fabric through her fingers. “And cold…”
Thomas caught her hand in his. He brought her closer with a soft tug. “Let me fix that.”
Maeve didn’t stop the laugh that escaped her lips. She shook her head.
Thomas was such a determined and stubborn kid. If he wanted something, he’d get it. Out of respect for her best friend Ada - Thomas’s sister, Maeve had refused him more times than she could count. Not once had he faltered in his tries. Thomas had bought her the flowers she liked the most, stole expensive dresses she had once mentioned to want. He paid such attention to her wishes, she almost thought of him as a maid. But that’s not all Thomas had done for her. He had fought the men who bothered, men six times his weight and age. She brought her hand to the most recent scar on his brow, her fingers leaving a tickling sensation on his skin. Thomas sucked a breath at the touch.
“You took one hell of a beating that night…” Ada couldn’t be upset if Maeve was showing her appreciation, right? Not that she’d care if she got upset at all in the first place. Maeve, with his hand still on hers, turned on her spot and looked at him over her shoulder. “Come.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Maeve Sowards pushed him inside the house, he closed the front door with a kick and followed her upstairs. Her house was dark, silent. It wouldn’t be for long, when he made her scream his name. Maeve bit down her lower lip, thinking about him, what he could do, what she could teach him. He was good, she would corrupt him, but it was not her place to help him distinguish between good and bad. She had ached for him for long, refusing herself a pleasure she craved. That was over.
Thomas Shelby would become hers that night until darkness swallowed them both.