Chapter 26: Moonlight Claiming
The cool night air had begun to bite, raising goosebumps on their spent bodies. On the rooftop, the lantern’s flame finally sputtered out, leaving them in the blue-grey light of the pre-dawn city. Stephanie stirred against Veronica’s side, a contented sigh escaping her lips. The gold collar was still cool against her throat, a constant, gentle reminder.
“You’re shivering,” Veronica murmured, her voice raspy with fatigue and affection. In one fluid motion, she rose, scooping Stephanie into her arms as if she weighed nothing. Stephanie gave a little gasp of surprise, then curled into the solid warmth of Veronica’s chest, burying her face in her neck.
“I can walk, you know,” Stephanie protested weakly, though her arms tightened around Veronica’s shoulders.
“Hush,” Veronica said, her Jamaican lilt soft but firm. “Indulge me.” She carried her down the narrow staircase, their descent a quiet ritual in the sleeping building.
Veronica’s dorm room was a welcome shock of warmth and color after the stark rooftop. She shouldered the door open, and the scent of sandalwood incense and old books enveloped them. A poster of Bob Marley watched over the room from above a desk buried in lexicons and case files. Veronica didn’t set Stephanie down until they reached the small, attached bathroom.
Steam quickly fogged the mirror as Veronica turned on the shower. She peeled away the blanket still wrapped around Stephanie, then her own clothes, with a practical tenderness. The hot water was a blessing, washing away the stickiness of sweat and dried champagne from their picnic. Veronica guided Stephanie under the spray, her hands gentle as she soaped her back, her shoulders, carefully avoiding the collar.
“We should take this off for the water,” Veronica said, her fingers brushing the gold chain.
Stephanie’s hand flew to it protectively. “Non. Please. Let me keep it on a little longer.”
Vervalho’s gaze softened. She nodded, instead working the shampoo through Stephanie’s long, brown hair, which hung like a wet curtain down to her thighs. The intimacy was different now—softer, domestic. It was in the way Veronica rinsed Stephanie’s hair, tipping her head back with care, and the way Stephanie leaned into the touch, her eyes closed.
Once dry and wrapped in oversized towels, they collapsed onto Veronica’s large, plush bed. The comforter was a riot of colourful patterns, a stark contrast to the sterile white of Stephanie’s own mansion bedroom. They wriggled under the covers, their damp limbs tangling together naturally.
The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 4:17 AM. The city outside was quieter now, a deep, rhythmic hum.
“I meant it, you know,” Stephanie whispered into the darkness, her French accent more pronounced in her fatigue. “What I said on the roof.”
Veronica turned onto her side, propping her head on her hand. The green of her eyes was muted in the low light. “Which part? You said a lot of very…” She smirked. “...convincing things.”
Stephanie swatted her arm playfully. “The first thing. Je t’appartiens.”
The smirk faded from Veronica’s face, replaced by a vulnerability she rarely showed. She reached out, her fingertips tracing the line of Stephanie’s jaw. “That’s a big thing to say, Steph. A big thing to give.”
“It does not feel big. It feels simple. Like finally telling a truth I have always known.” Stephanie’s voice was earnest. “Since the first day those girls made fun of my accent in the playground, and you told them to… what was it? ‘Beat it before I rearrange your faces.’”
Veronica laughed, a rich, warm sound. “Lawyer in the making, even at ten.” Her laughter died down, and she grew serious. “I was always protecting you from them. But who protects you from me? From this?” Her gesture encompassed the bed, the two of them.
“I do not need protection from you,” Stephanie said, shifting closer. “What I need is you. All of you. Even the part that is a little feared in the courtroom.”
“It’s not a little,” Veronica corrected softly. “And what we did tonight… that was…”
“Perfect,” Stephanie finished for her. “It was perfect because it was you. You would never truly hurt me.”
“God, Steph.” Veronica exhaled sharply, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “You have so much faith. It terrifies me. My feelings for you… they’re not simple. They’re messy and consuming and I’ve spent years trying to pack them away because I thought you needed a friend, a protector, not… this.”
“Maybe I needed all of it.” Stephanie rolled over, draping an arm across Veronica’s stomach and resting her head on her shoulder. “The friendship, the protection, and the messy, consuming part. Especially that part.”
They lay in silence for a while, listening to each other breathe. The first faint hints of pink and orange began to bleed into the skyline outside the window, etching the silhouettes of buildings in fire.
“My parents are expecting me at some dreadful charity brunch tomorrow,” Stephanie mumbled against Veronica’s skin. “Something about preserving historical landmarks. It will be so boring.”
“Tell them you’re studying with me,” Veronica said, her voice a low rumble. “It’s not even a lie. We’re studying the historical landmark of my bed.”
Stephanie giggled, the sound light and airy. “You are a bad influence, Veronica Barlowe.”
“You knew that when you put on the collar,” Veronica countered, her tone gently teasing. She grew quiet again. “Will you keep it on? Under your clothes? At the brunch?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. A secret pact. A silent rebellion.
Stephanie lifted her head, her light blue eyes catching the first true ray of sunlight piercing the room. It illuminated the deep dimples in her cheeks as she smiled.
“Oui,” she said simply. “I will.”
Veronica pulled her closer, her own smile a private, wondrous thing. The sun continued to rise, filling the colourful room with a new, golden light, promising a day full of secrets and the thrilling, undeniable weight of a promise kept.