Page 116 of The Mourning Throne
The blood on his hands hadn’t dried yet. He rubbed his thumb against his palm, then his fingertips, but it didn’t come off. He could feel it sinking into the creases of his skin, under his ripped nails. It felt… disgusting. No wonder Morgan had texture issues with it. He wanted to scrub it off, but his mind had shut down partway through.
The glitter pen.
The tongue.
The card.
He couldn’t tell if the room was hot or cold anymore. His body couldn’t decide.
Morgan grabbed the edge of the card with a pair of tongs from the wet bar.
“Someone probably dropped it off,” he murmured as he turned it over. “Either with the concierge, or to our door directly.”
No shit, Morgan.
Lex reached for the card. “Give it to me.”
“You shouldn’t hold onto it.”
“Give. It. To. Me.”
Morgan didn’t push any farther. He dropped it back into Lex’s palm.
Lex stared at it like it held a riddle he was supposed to solve. Like if he lookedhard enough, he could see who sent it. Maybe they left a fingerprint. A hair. Something to go on. He held it too close, then too far. He turned it sideways, upside down.
Nothing.
His brain would start, then justfucking die. Mid-thought. Not good enough to grab onto anything real.
Who the fuck sends a tongue?
Who knows?
He didn’t feel scared. Not exactly.
He felt exposed. Peeled back. Someone had reached through the cracks and touched the part of him he hadn’t known was vulnerable.
His chest squeezed. Tight. Hot.
And then Morgan’s hand landed on his shoulder.
Gentle.
Not commanding. Not restraining. Just warm.
When he looked up, Morgan’s expression was unreadable again.
But there was no threat in it.
It was—
Wait.
That was it.
That was thelook. He’d seen it a few days ago. Right before the bath. When Morgan had grabbed his wrist and said,don’t fight.
He hadn’timagined it.That hadn’t been part of the spiral. He wasn’t fucking crazy.
