Page 18 of Thorn of Sorrow

I lowered my cheek to the top of his head, my arms firmly around him, holding him together while he unraveled in the safety of my war room.

My petit oiseau, fragile but strong, finally breaking so he could begin to rebuild.

* * * *

An hour later we were seated on the front steps of the farmhouse so Kyson could get some fresh air. The night sky was clear, a billion stars gleaming overhead as I leaned back on my elbows, simply enjoying his company.

The male appeared more relaxed, straddling a plate on his legs as he ate short ribs, baked beans, and potato salad. Anytime Richard cooked, I stayed clear of that part of the castle. The smell of food had always nauseated me. But from the way Kyson ate, he thoroughly enjoyed the meal.

“What does that taste like?” I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my gaze trailing over his features as he chewed. Then my gaze lowered to his mouth, and wickedly sensual thoughts filled my mind. Since the night I’d first laid eyes on him, Kyson had been a temptation hard to resist.

If he hadn’t been drugged that night, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to hold back. He’d captivated me then, and the feeling hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown stronger. I wanted those slim legs wrapped around me, begging me to take him harder as I fed from him.

“I’m not sure how to describe it.” Kyson used a few napkins to wipe barbecue sauce from his fingers. “Amazing? I could try my best, but until you’ve had a bite, you couldn’t appreciate the explosion of flavors.”

“Explosion?” A slow smile formed. “Is that how you describe food?”

Kyson chuckled, and I could bathe in the sound. “You would be surprised at what I do to entertain myself. Winterhaven isn’t exactly brimming with people I can hang out with. I have to find a way to break up the boredom.”

I could think of one way to pass the time.

He thrust a rib toward my face. “Try it.”

A hiss erupted as I recoiled, the scent slipping into my lungs, making me nauseous. “Keep your pig to yourself, petit oiseau. I like my meals on the bloody side.”

“Just a teensy bite.” He wiggled it close to my nose. I shoved his hand away. This was not the kind of playfulness I enjoyed. If it had been anyone else, I would have broken their hand.

The rib slipped from Kyson’s fingers, landing a few feet away in the grass, leaving a trail of sauce behind that dotted the lawn.

Kyson looked crestfallen as a single whimper squeaked from his throat. “How could you waste such…perfection?”

For a moment, I thought he would retrieve it.

He reached out, though he stayed seated. “My poor rib.”

“You were the one shoving your meat in my face,” I defended, my stomach still queasy. If I still fought on the battlefield, I would have just revealed to my enemies how to defeat me.

Kyson slowly turned his head, his lips parted. “I didn’t shove—”

Realizing what I’d said, the side of my mouth curled. “Technically true.”

He lowered his gaze, growing quiet. The fork scraped the plate as he shuffled his food around.

Did anyone hand out awards for major fuckups? My intention hadn’t been to kill the mood, but the way he tapped on the mound of potatoes, there should have been police tape surrounding us.

If he stood and went inside, I couldn’t blame him. He was sensitive about his body. I knew that now, and wished I had been more considerate before those words had blurted out of my mouth.

Normally, I chose my words carefully. Almost strategically, because that was how I’d always played my hand. Watch your opponent carefully, think two or three moves ahead. That was how my mind worked.

But I’d lowered my guard with Kyson. Got caught up in the moment, enjoying myself for the first time in decades. That wasn’t entirely true. I’d never been playful with anyone.

And I wasn’t in the habit of apologizing because I was usually careful not to screw up in the first place.

Which made it hard for me to figure out what to say.

“So…” Kyson took a deep breath like he’d reset himself. “Since I wept all over your shirt, can I ask what Dick is?”

Oh, hell no. No fucking way. I wasn’t touching that since I still tasted remnants of my foot in my mouth. I’d rather grab the rib from the grass and eat it.

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