Page 55 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

Outside, the wind howls, the sound echoing through the empty rooms, but my eyes find him across the room. No words are needed. I hear him, feel him without a sound passing between us. Despite the table that separates us, I feel the warmth of his skin, the pull of his presence, as though he is already in me, sinking deeper with each passing moment, making me his in ways I can neither fight nor escape.

“I miss you.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re far. I need you under my skin.”

“You silence the voices in my head.”

He smiles that boyish smile thatflatters me beyond anything. It’s innocent and true. Footsteps sound, and Naseria and Miro enter behind Oscar. I was worried the rain would never stop, so Sebastian sent Oscar to fetch them back.

“He will be here shortly, sir.” Sebastian nods and Oscar trudges back out.

Perhaps it was the liquor, or maybe the sexual afterglow, but Sebastian was not just vulnerable, he had unbarred his wildest thoughts and prayers. And within our devoted intimacy, he uttered words that sort relief in my woes.

“Tonight, I want you to meet someone. A friend of mine who made it possible for me to lock Iris under the estate.”

“Who is he?” his hands caress my boobs, the water turning warm with how long we have been soaking in it.

“Rune.” His lips kiss my shoulder ever so gently, like I could break.

I had been an open book myself, spewing out what he already knew, but he listened with a cavernous passion as his hands explored my flesh. I cried and for the first time, it felt good, like stones had been lifted off my back.

A quick text made Naseria and Miro aware of the long night ahead of us. Sebastian had his lure, and so did we three, but he made a promise to me today. Those that have made the rivers in my eyes are walking skeletons with their hourglasses running out.

Details and knowledge were to be shared. A scheme to move forward had to be designed, but a lot more had to be voiced before we rode back tomorrow morning. Oddly, this encircled esprit de corps, although I knew the word must be foreign to him.

“You fucked him, didn’tyou?”Miro playfully squints his eyes, discreetly signing away from Naseria’s eyes. And try as I may, a small chuckle slips past my lips.

“What’s so funny?” Naseria sits up straight, her eyes taking note of my own.

“The weather,” I lie through my teeth, and what an awful lie at that.

“The weather?” Her eyebrow rises as she drawls every letter, like I could not possibly mean it. From the side of my eye I see a somewhat amused Sebastian — well, as much amusement that can show on his face.

“Yes, I quite find the rain funny.” My hand rubs my chest, a thing l do when I’m being dishonest. She stares at me a minute too long and goodness, how can she not see past the little white lie. While Miro couldn’t care less, Naseria would make a bigger deal out of the fact that I slept with Sebastian. And now doesn’t exactly seem like the right time to share that particular truth.

“Are you mad?”

“Probably, but you knew of that already.”

“I did, didn’t I?. I tend to take in strays,” her tone lurks humor.

“How charitable of you.” She leans back into my lap, gently guiding my hands through her strands of hair. The room falls into a soothing silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft glow of the burning wood. But soon, his guest enters, a shadow slipping into the room like a midnight stranger, commanding attention without uttering a word.

“Good evening.” His voice flows easily as he removes his coat and drapes it over a lone chair. Naseria sits up, her eyes narrowing as she observes the man, who now settles comfortably beside Sebastian.

“È davvero bellissima, fratello. Non c’è da meravigliarsi che tu sembri un bambino in un negozio di dolci.”

“Non sono mai stato uno che taglia le lingue. Non farneun’abitudine.” Sebastian answers, seemingly bored with the conversation.

“Potresti anche marchiarla come un cane per strada.” He laughs a rich, deeply British chuckle, despite the fact that we have no understanding of the words they’ve just exchanged.

“This is Rune,” Sebastian says.

“A pleasure to meet you,” I reply, breaking the silence like a soft ripple on still water.

“The pleasure is mine, sweetheart.” Rune’s smile is smooth, much like Miro’s. The kind that slips easily into a woman’s confidence. But there’s something different in this one—a playful challenge, a jab aimed at Sebastian to provoke him.

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