Page 87 of Crown of Steel

He doesn’t reply, just hangs against my chest, his chin against my clavicle. After what feels like a long and short period at the same time, headlights appear, pointing our way. Régis whines in my arms, but the moment he hears Amadou’s voice, he ticks on my arm in the need to be out.

“This way, sirs.” Without as much as a flinch at the way Régis is curled up into my touch, Amadou holds open the backdoor of the SUV.

“Thank you,” I hum, sliding myself onto the leather seat with Régis tucked into my arms. I wonder if he has fallen asleep.

“Where to?”

“Home.” Régis whispers, the sound muffled against my shirt. Amadou looks up, and catches my stare in the rear mirror. His brow creases. It’s no secret that he has a special relationship with my little stepbrother.

“Home?” Without waiting for a reply, he puts the car in drive.

“By the sea,” I clarify when the car bumps over the uneven path toward the main entrance of the castle. Judging by the other cars we pass over the sand lane, tonight’s event has finished.

I dip my chin to face my little stepbrother, guiding his head for more comfort until he touches the backseat. His golden, wavy hair partly teases my shoulder, only to flurry up with the regular puffs of air that leaves from his plush, parted lips. Lips that disclosed most horrific experiences. Lips that haven’t been kissed by anyone but me.

His long lashes adorn the upper part of his cheek. Cheeks that flush so beautifully when he’s fighting me.

I love it when he fights me.

Reaching out, I gingerly brush some of his hair from his temple with the tips of my finger. His skin feels cool, frail.

I love it when he opens up to me.

“Are you sleeping?” I whisper. He doesn’t react. Tracing the rest of his jaw, I can’t help but go through the earlier events. I follow the shape of his nose, small with a slight upturn at the end, his other cold cheek, where I equally brush some honey strands away, then scoot a little closer and tuck him back against me. His head lolls a little, before it lands right in the crook between my shoulder and neck, its shape perfectly fitting the snug space. His hair tickles my nose and mouth, and he lets out a soft murmur, but otherwise keeps on sleeping.

“You scared me tonight,” I whisper, wincing at my own words. Fuck, he better not hear me. Looking up, I catch Amadou’s curious glance once more, and scowl back in return. The fucker had better haven’t heard me.

It doesn’t take us too long before we finally reach the sea. The gates open, and the SUV drives onto the gravel lane and toward our house. “Is my brother home yet?”

“No, sir. Didier is still out, waiting for him.”

I frown. “That’s a bit late, isn’t it?” Checking my phone, I see that we’re nearing three in the morning. It’s not like Louis to go home this late.

“I don’t know, sir, I haven’t heard from them. Would you like me to check?”

“No, it’s okay.” With my free hand, I quickly shoot Louis a message. “Open the door for me.”

Amadou rushes out of the car after he’s parked it in the garage and opens my door, then steps aside so I can carry my little stepbrother outside and into the hall, then up the stairs and inside his bedroom. He has a nice room with a view of the sea. I bet Dad and Nathalie did everything in their power tomake him feel at home. But if they know what truly happened in that house, they have some explaining to do.

“Do you need anything else?” Amadou asks once I’ve draped Régis into his bed and tuck him warm under his sheets.

“No. You may leave.” I catch Amadou looking down at Régis, then back up at me, before he slowly blinks. Then, after a slight nod, he ambles toward the door and closes it behind him with a soft click.

He knows. He fucking knows. Yet I can’t make myself to care. Instead I take off my jacket and the thick cloak, shimmy Régis’ slender hips out of his pants, and leave him in his boxer briefs, the blanket snugly tugged up to his chin. Régis shivers, then murmurs some more, before he turns onto his side, his back toward me. When he scoots a little away from me, I accept the invitation, toe off my shoes and slide into the bed behind him while awkwardly getting out of my cloak, shirt and pants.

“I can’t stay,” I muse inside his ear. But I’ll savour this moment.

He lets out the softest of replies, barely audible, but they make my insides rattle with contentment.

Merci.

The vibrating sound of my phone wakes me up from a restless sleep. Too short. Blindly grabbing behind me in search for the source of annoyance, I inhale another delectable whift of Régis—eucalyptus and burning wood, mixed with his own, unique scent—before I roll onto my back, phone in hand.

“Yeah?” I grunt on a rasp.

“Arthur? Where are you?” It’s Louis. Blinking my eyes furiously, it only takes me a few seconds to remember. Last night, the hunt, the search, the cage… I shift my head to Régis. He’s still lying on his side, his hair covering most of the chiseled features of his face.

“I’m at home, you?” Absent-mindedly, I brush them away.

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