Page 102 of Lana Pecherczyk
“Blake,” he growled.
“Hm?” She tucked a lock of rainbow hair behind her ear and averted her gaze.
“You had a fantasy about me?”
“Maybe.” Her blush returned, and she folded her arms over her chest.
“Yesterday.Beforewe kissed.”
“Maybe.”
He was so fucking hard it hurt. “The only reason I’m not ripping off your clothes and worshipping your body with my tongue is because I’m…”
She leaned forward, hanging eagerly on his next words. But nothing came out. He was too busy falling in love with her. Eventually, she said, “Because you’re all nice and freshly showered, but I’m stinky and covered in food goop and blood?”
River blinked. Processed her suggestion. And snapped.
“You could be covered in shit, blood, or dripping with my cum, and still, I’d want to lick every inch of your body.” His fingers speared into her hair and tightened on reflex, driven by the way her pupils expanded, by her desire bleeding into him like a mortal wound. “The only reason I’m not is because—” Again, it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her everything. Again, he choked up.
“Because?” she prompted, breathless, waiting for him to be her knight in shining armor.
Shame coated his insides. He relaxed but couldn’t let go. “You said it yourself. You’re not adjusting well. Once you get outof this fucked up caravan, you’ll think differently about wanting to do the nesting ritual.”
Chapter
Thirty-Two
CIRCA 200 YEARS AGO
The bundle landed on the table before Manfri with a thud, followed by a worn book that Cielo slid toward Nikan.
The three of them sat there for a long moment, staring at the items. The rowdy tavern sounds grew and ebbed. A clang from the kitchen. A crackle from the fireplace. A shout from the gaming tables a few yards away.
“What’s this?” Manfri touched the fabric-wrapped package.
“My latest haul from … you know where.” Cielo’s fingers drummed against the table. His eyes skittered toward the tavern door every third beat. “Gifts.”
Nikan’s expression brightened with reverence as he traced the book’s binding. He hated collecting objects, treasure, or any physical thing except for books. Reading was a treasure that stayed with him long after the book had gone. It was something his mother could never take. He devoured anything he could find.
Manfri couldn’t look away from the bundle before him, dread and anticipation tangling in his gut.
“What is it?” he asked again, struggling to keep his voice steady despite the ale fuzzing his edges.
“Fuck’sake, Manni.” Cielo nudged it closer. “Open it.”
Inside the wrapped fabric lay delicate bamboo needles, ink pots, and hollow thorns sharper than any he’d seen. Manfri’s breath caught. It was a perfect replica of the Donna’s tattooing instruments, without a single ounce of forbidden metal. Instructions for use were nestled inside Nikan’s book.
That nagging tightness he felt every time Cielo slipped into human territory alone eased, only to be replaced by a sourness beneath his tongue. The tools gleamed in the tavern light. Beautiful. Perfect. Acquired elsewhere.
“All this time.” He traced the needle’s point, watching his fingertip dimple without breaking. “You weren’t just treasure hunting. You were searching for another way.”
“Well, can you blame me? You haven’t shut up about the triad link.” Cielo curved his hands around his stein. “Now we don’t need the Donna. You can do it tonight. Tonight is good.” His knuckles whitened. “I’m flying out again tomorrow.”
“Again?”
“So you’ll do it?” Cielo leaned forward.
“Sure…” Manfri would need to sober up first. But tonight … if they completed the triad tattoo, then tonight, they would be brothers for real. He gulped back a sip of ale, thinking of the adventures the three of them would have now. His lips curved into a smile. “Tonight.”
