Chapter 37
37
“ T hey can’t know we were part of the prince’s raid,” Thorne said, pulling me through the back door of the Parlor. “I promise you can sleep soon, but we need to make sure they know we’ve been here first. We’re going to have to make a show of it.”
We hustled upstairs, landing in his office. He crossed the room in three strides, stopping to pour a drink from a decanter. He slammed it back before refilling. I stood there, watching him, knowing he was hurting and angry and his mind was carrying him through every memory he’d had of Brigid. Of his responsibility for her life and ultimately her death.
He walked back to me, glass in hand, staring down. With perfect ease, Thorne raised his hand, hesitating for only a second before sliding his fingers up my collar bone, stopping to let his thumb rest on my racing pulse.
“Settle, wife. I need you to be able to focus. Let go of everything we’re running from and be present.”
It wasn’t the night that had me so rattled. I’d become numb to chaos, it seemed, but his commanding tone, his beautiful eyes, his caring nature, his pain… those would easily be the things that unraveled me.
He held out the glass, the amber liquid sloshing gently against the crystal. “Here. This will help.”
I accepted the drink with a steady hand, daring to stare him in the eye as I took the first sip, letting it burn down my throat, spreading warmth through my chest and belly. I followed it with another, never breaking eye contact.
“Good girl,” he said, slowly wiping a drop from the corner of my mouth with the pad of his thumb before taking the glass back. “Now play nice with me for an hour and I’ll let you sleep all day tomorrow.”
“Let’s be clear about something, husband. You don’t let me do shit.”
He leaned in close, narrowing his eyes. “I think I do.”
I knew what he was doing. Baiting me, pushing me into a mindset ready for a crowd of curious Silk. But it was completely unnecessary. I didn’t need direction. Nor coaxing. I knew exactly what was expected of me, and now that I’d realized my fate was tied to him, he was about to get more than he bargained for.
I let him have this moment. Let him watch as I settled in, taking a long deep breath before I grabbed a suspender and yanked him closer, a coy smile lifting my lips. Running my fingers through his thick, dark hair, I messed it up before I spun and jerked him toward the door. Drink in hand, he let me pull him down the steps, eyes burning into my back as we walked purposefully through the crowd of laughing, gambling, unruly Silk, losing themselves in their guilty pleasures, not caring an ounce for what was happening outside of their cushy comfort zones. All eyes turned our way as we cut a path through the revelry. Whispers followed in our wake, speculative murmurs hidden behind gloved hands and lace fans.
He plopped down on the couch, letting the last of his drink splash onto the carpet, though I knew, without a doubt, that small mess grated every one of his nerves. Thorne loved order. And control. But he’d never crack because most of all he loved his masks.
I sat in his lap, throwing my legs up onto the couch. Thorne’s hand immediately settled on my thigh, his long fingers splaying possessively over the silk fabric of my dress. The heat of his touch seared through the layers, igniting a slow burn beneath my skin.
Leaning into him, I rested my cheek against his shoulder, letting my own hand wander, trailing along his chest. His fingers dug into my thigh, a silent warning, a reminder of who he thought held the reins.
Tilting my head, my lips grazed the shell of his ear as I whispered, “Is that all you’ve got, husband? A little touch of my thigh and you think they’re all going to run to the gossip mill? You’ve got a point to prove here. Do better.”
His eyes met mine, dark and fathomless. “For them or for you?”
I held his gaze, unflinching, even as my heart raced. “For them, of course.”
This was the dance we did, forever circling, forever pushing, forever testing the limits of our twisted bond. Thorne’s hand slipped under the slit in my dress, moving up my thigh. Back and forth, he brushed his fingers. Slowly. Achingly so. They teased and tested my resolve.
I moved my fingers into his hair, winding the long strands through my fingers as I leaned into him, stretching to drag my tongue along the bottom of his earlobe. Testing how far I could push him until he broke.
His fingers found the lace trim of my undergarments. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”
I wouldn’t be the first to break.
He pressed lightly, sliding a bit further up and my chest rose and fell, my breath hot against his neck. He was playing with fire, and I loved it.
“You’re asking for trouble,” I whispered.
He smirked, that dimple on full display. “Don’t lie, Paesha darling. You asked. I’m delivering.”
His fingers, barely hidden beneath the drape of my gown, brushed the damp lace of my undergarments and I sucked in a sharp breath, my thighs clenching involuntarily. Thorne’s lips quirked in a self-satisfied smirk as he leaned in close. “Tell me to stop.”
“I could. But I’d rather be a scandal.”
With a mischievous grin and eyes for only me, he pushed the flimsy fabric aside, his fingertips gliding through the slick heat he found there. He moved with deliberate slowness, circling, teasing, stoking the ache building low in my belly.
My breath caught in my throat as Thorne’s skilled fingers danced over the sensitive flesh right here in front of everyone. Hidden but only just. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, my hips rocking subtly against his hand, seeking more of his electrifying touch. Around us, the murmur of the crowd faded to a distant hum, my entire world narrowing to the exquisite sensations Thorne coaxed from my body.
“Eyes on me. If you look away, I’ll stop.”
“Only you could command me, threaten me, and pleasure me in the same breath.” I managed, my voice full of weakness for him as I stared into eyes that held me on the edge of control.
He moved with maddening slowness, tracing delicate patterns that had me quivering with need. Feather-light strokes alternated with firmer pressure. His thumb brushed over my clit, and I couldn’t stop the breathy gasp that escaped my parted lips.
“That tiny hitch in your breath is going to be my undoing, wife.” Thorne’s eyes were molten as they held mine, dark with desire and a primal sort of satisfaction. He relished having me at his mercy, pliant and desperate. His fingers delved deeper, sliding easily inside, trailing the flames that licked along my nerve endings.
I gripped his lapel tighter, my knuckles turning white as I fought to maintain a semblance of composure, even as my body threatened to unravel. Thorne’s fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made my toes curl. I couldn’t hold back the whimper, my head falling to rest against his shoulder.
“That’s it, darling. Let go for me.”
His words, rough with desire, were my undoing. The coil that had been tightening low in my belly snapped, my release crashing over me in wave after exquisite wave. I shuddered in Thorne’s arms, my face buried against his neck to muffle my cries of ecstasy. He held me through it, his fingers never ceasing their wicked dance, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my trembling form.
As the last aftershocks faded, I slumped bonelessly against Thorne’s chest. He withdrew his hand from beneath the gown and lifted his fingers to his lips, holding my gaze as he slowly, deliberately licked them clean. My breath hitched at the sight, desire building within me once more. He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “You taste like honey and sin, darling. I could feast on you for hours and never be sated.”
He shifted until our lips were a hairsbreadth apart, his breath mingling with mine.
Time slowed, the anticipation stretching taut between us. The rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm echoed the wild cadence of my own. His eyes, those captivating hazel eyes that could see straight through to my soul, dropped to my mouth and for one selfish moment, I wished I never had to leave him. I wished I could promise him forever and keep my word, because fuck if I wasn’t falling. And there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he would be right there to catch me.
A flurry of movement in the center of the Parlor broke the spell over us. One of the Parlor workers came rushing forward, weaving through the throng of Silk. Her pale face was pinched with worry, tendrils of dark hair escaping her neat bun to frame her delicate features.
I reluctantly pulled back from Thorne, straightening my gown as I shifted to a more respectable position on his lap. He kept one arm wrapped securely around my waist, his fingers digging possessively into my hip even as he turned his attention to the approaching woman.
“Uhm, Mister Noctus, sir,” she said breathlessly, dipping into a quick curtsy. “Forgive the intrusion, but there’s a matter requiring your immediate attention.”
Thorne’s brow furrowed, a flicker of annoyance passing over his handsome face before he smoothed it away. “Can it wait, Hannah? As you can see, I’m rather… occupied at the moment.” His fingers flexed on my hip, emphasizing his point.
Hannah’s eyes darted to me, her cheeks blushing before she leaned forward and whispered. “It’s Brigid, Sir. I’m afraid she’s been…” She swallowed, tears filling her eyes. “Tuck brought her body.”
As if ice had been splashed over both of us, everything changed. Thorne slipped his mask back on, taking a commanding tone as he forced her to focus on his words. “You will not speak of this to another person. Clear? You fix your face. You take a breath. You stand straight and smile down at me. Then you will turn, walk over to Mr. Vendrake and offer to fill his drink for him. Nothing dire has happened. There cannot be any indication that we are connected to what has occurred tonight. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“Good, girl.”
Thorne tossed his head back and laughed, waving a hand through the air as if shooing Hannah away. She plastered a smile on and spun, doing exactly as he’d directed, but she shook slightly on her heels as she walked.
Every moment he continued to sit there, stroking the back of my neck grated on him. I could feel it in the firmness of his touch, see it in the depths of his eyes. But he was smart and patient, and when he eventually held a hand up to guide me to my feet, I could feel the tremble there.
“Would you mind going upstairs without me?”
A question. Not a command.
“I can come. I can help.”
He slid his hands to the sides of my face, staring down. “I need you well rested for tomorrow. Vesalia is interested in you, which means she’ll make it impossible for me to find her without you. You have to be sharp.”
I nodded. “Wherever you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”
He paused, rubbing his thumb over my jaw line. “I hope you mean that.”
The second I was alone, exhaustion hit me like a tidal wave. My limbs felt leaden, each step an effort as I trudged up the stairs to Thorne’s office. I pushed open the cabinet door with more effort than it should have taken, pulled one of his shirts from a hanger and changed before snagging his little golden book from the desk and curling up on the couch. I’m not sure what I could have done if he ran into some kind of trouble, but at least it was something. His goals were mine for the foreseeable future and I needed to be whatever asset I could.
But when I clicked open the book just to check, five words appeared on the page.
Go to sleep, Paesha darling.
I wrote back.
Don’t tell me how to live my life.
And then promptly fell asleep.
I woke to the tinkling of ice in a glass and peered through tired eyes to see Thorne behind his desk, leaning against the window frame, hair a disheveled mess, glasses at the tip of his nose, swirling his whiskey as he looked over a ledger.
I pushed myself up from the couch. The worn leather creaked beneath me as I shifted, the sound drawing Thorne’s attention. He glanced up from the paper, eyes meeting mine over the rim of his glasses. A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his voice low and rough with exhaustion.
I shook my head, my bare feet whispering against the plush rug as I padded over to him. The early morning light filtered through the window, highlighting the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He looked worn, the weight of last night’s events etched into every line and hollow.
Without a word, I plucked the ledger from his hands, ignoring his half-hearted protest as I set it aside on his desk. He watched me but made no move to stop me. Gently sliding the glasses from his face, I folded them carefully before setting them down as well. His eyes, unobstructed now, bore into mine with an intensity that stole my breath. Flecks of gold and green danced in their depths, captivating me.
Slowly, deliberately, I perched on the edge of the desk, the worn wood smooth beneath my palms. Thorne’s shirt rode up my thighs as I settled, exposing an enticing expanse of skin. His gaze flickered down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, I yanked him toward me. He stepped between my parted knees, his large hands coming to rest on the desk on either side of my hips, caging me in while the heat of his body seeped into mine, chasing away the lingering chill of the night. I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, my breath catching at the raw hunger I found there.
“You shouldn’t tempt me like this. Not when I’m barely holding on by a thread.”
I trailed my fingers along his jaw, relishing the scrape of stubble against my skin. “Maybe I want you to let go. You don’t need to control every single moment. Give me this one.”
His voice was reverent, almost sad. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
I leaned in closer, my nose grazing along the side of his neck. “I know exactly what I’m asking for. Let me in. Trust me. Let yourself feel something real, even if it’s just for a moment. Not for an audience. Not for the prince, or the gossip mill. Take something that you want for yourself. Be selfish, but gods help me, do it slowly.”
“There was a time I took what I wanted without thought, and the cost became a cycle of loss. Now, here I am again, standing on the edge of all I know, drawn to you like a song calls to the heart. You’re the note that could shatter the silence, the promise of something more than just survival. But if I give in, if I risk this… I’m afraid I’d lose the one thing holding me together. I lean on logic because wanting you feels like the beginning of something vast, something unstoppable, and gods, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive it.”
“Letting someone in doesn’t make you weaker.”
Thorne’s hands flexed on the desk, the wood creaking beneath his white-knuckled grip. I nipped lightly at his earlobe, soothing the sting with a flick of my tongue, battling his logical brain, coaxing the irrational side of him to come out and play with me.
A low groan rumbled up from his chest and I smiled. “Shall I beg, Husband?”
He shifted closer, releasing the desk to wrap my hair around his fist, pulling me toward him. His hand tightened in my hair, his grip just shy of painful as he tilted my head back, searching my eyes as if he could see every one of my secrets within them. “What if I taste of heartache?”
“What if I taste of healing?”
His resolve crumbled, the last of his restraint shattering like spun glass. He captured my lips in a searing kiss. His mouth slanted over mine, hungry and demanding, his tongue delving past my parted lips to stroke along my own. I melted into him, my fingers tangling in the folds of his shirt, holding him to me as if he might disappear. He kissed me like a man starved, like I was the air he needed to breathe.
His hands skimmed up my bare thighs, igniting sparks in their wake. Higher and higher they crept, pushing the fabric of my borrowed shirt up until it bunched around my waist. I gasped into his mouth as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips, anchoring me to him.
He kissed a fiery path along my jaw, down the column of my throat, his lips and teeth and tongue painting a masterpiece of sensation on my skin. I arched into him, my head falling back, a breathless moan escaping me as he found that sweet spot just below my ear that made my toes curl. He lingered there, no doubt leaving a mark for all the world to see. A brand. A claim.
And then he stepped away. Spinning so his back was to me, shoulders heaving.
It was too much. I was too much. He thought of her, and his heart wasn’t ready to let go. And mine wasn’t ready to stay.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I moved down from the desk, walking over to gather my dress I’d left on the floor. “Don’t you dare apologize to me for knowing what it means to love someone with your whole heart, Thorne Noctus. Don’t you dare.”