Chapter 49
49
T horne’s dark gaze burned into me. Actually burned. I could feel the heat coating my skin. The evenings had grown warmer, but not this warm.
“Put your teeth away, husband. You’re snarling at the wrong people.”
Thorne’s eyes slid from me to Archer, narrowing to slits of barely contained fury. “What the hell were you thinking? Risking your lives on some irresponsible, unapproved mission?”
Archer met Thorne’s glare unflinchingly, his own jaw set in a stubborn line. “We can’t sit around here and wait for everyone else to do dangerous things. I didn’t join the Fray to let others fall. Look at Tuck. If we hadn’t been there tonight, he would have died. And he puts himself at risk every day while we do what? Attend dinners and lift jewels when we can? This was necessary.”
Thorne scoffed, taking a step forward. “Necessary? Necessary to put her in danger? No. It served your purpose, and that’s all.”
“Boss,” Tuck tried to cut in.
“And what is my purpose, if not the same as yours?” Archer bit back, absolutely fuming.
I moved between them, placing a hand on Thorne’s chest. His heart pounded beneath my fingertips in a furious rhythm. “Enough. I am not a child to be coddled and sheltered. I made the choice to go with Archer tonight and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
His gaze searched mine, but I met his stare unflinchingly, refusing to back down.“In case you’ve forgotten, I am my own person. I don’t need your permission. This is my life, Thorne. These are my damn choices. And if you can’t respect that, then I guess you need to step aside and let me go.”
He closed all the space between us. Every inch. Grabbing the hand on his heart, smoothing his finger over the ring on mine. “I will not let go. You want someone to be reckless with, Paesha darling? It will be me and no one else.” He turned to Archer. “Go back to the house. Try not to get yourselves killed. I’ll see you in my office in two days and not a second before.”
Archer locked eyes with me, the sentiment clear. If I didn’t want to be left with this brooding, furious man, he wouldn’t have left me. Consequences be damned. And gods I loved him for that.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in two days. I’ll tell him everything.”
“You should have told me before you went,” Thorne seethed as they walked away.
“And what would you have done? Forbidden it?”
“I would have come with. I would have made sure you were okay.”
“ I made sure I was okay. I am my own protector. What would you have done differently with Farris knocking down the Parlor door? Left him to it? Welcomed him to do as he pleased with everyone in there? We both know this is where you were supposed to be.”
“If something had happened…” his words faded into the warm breeze. “This is what I get for giving you space.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Space? Is that what you’ve been doing? Small glances and half sentences because you’re giving me space? What if I don’t fucking want space? What if I want you to help me? Or at least stand beside me. Or gods, hold me. I know I’m leaving, but I’m not gone yet.”
I didn’t know what I was saying. Of course I wanted space. Every second with him was dangerous. Every minute, a jerk on my heart, begging me to forget everything. Allowing me to. I’d never been the hero. I didn’t need to be. And it killed me every day. But a few more days with this man in peace was worth an eternity without him. And I had to let that be enough.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “I haven’t been fair to you. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, it would make it easier. For both of us. When you…” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.
I knew what he meant. When I left. When I abandoned him and this world and everything blooming between us.
I reached up, catching his hand in mine. “I don’t think I want easy, Thorne.”
He melted, the ferocious man changing back into the studious one as he placed his forehead on mine, haloed in pale moonlight. “Then I am yours. However you will have me, I am yours. And I’ll help you however I can. Because I’d rather have memories full of your touches than regret.”
As we stood there, foreheads pressed together, hands intertwined, the first drops of rain began to fall. Soft at first, a gentle patter against the cobblestones, but quickly they built to a steady rhythm, the cool droplets kissing my skin.
Thorne’s free hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness. Whether it was tears because I was so frustrated and so torn, or rain, I couldn’t be sure. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.
“Paesha, I?—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was lost as a crack of lightning split the sky, the thunder reverberating through my bones. The heavens opened, rain coming down in earnest, drenching us both in seconds. But we didn’t move, unwilling to break this moment, this fragile connection forged in the midst of chaos.
Thorne’s hair was plastered to his forehead, rivulets of water running down his face, catching on his lips. Those lips, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from them.
I tilted my face up to his and slid the water-spotted glasses from his face. Thorne’s gaze held mine, his hazel eyes dark with hunger. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, he lowered his head, his breath ghosting across my lips.
I ached for him with every fiber of my being. The physical pain of it was a hollow feeling in my chest that only his touch could fill. I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget the cruel twists of fate that brought us together only to tear us apart. I wanted to memorize every angle of his face, the taste of his skin, the way his body fit against mine like we were two halves of a whole.
Thorne’s hand moved from my cheek to tangle in my rain-soaked hair, his fingers curling possessively around the strands. The first brush of Thorne’s lips against mine was achingly gentle, almost hesitant, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. That I was here, in his arms, kissing him back. The rain poured down around us, but I barely felt it, lost in the heat of his mouth, the slide of his tongue against mine as the kiss deepened.
I pressed closer, molding my body to his, needing to feel every inch of him with a desperation born of too many denied moments. Thorne groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, igniting a fire in my veins.
The rest of the world fell away. The Parlor, the city, the cruel games of gods and monsters. In that moment, there was only Thorne and the storm. Because he was the storm. His touch seared me, branding me as his, and I knew, no matter what the future held, a part of me would always belong to him.
He walked me backward, never breaking the kiss, until my shoulders hit the rough stone wall. Thorne’s body was a delicious weight pinning me to the wall. His mouth broke from mine to trail searing kisses down the column of my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders, anchoring myself to him as the world spun dizzily around us.
“Thorne,” I breathed, my voice hardly recognizable to my own ears, thick with need and longing. “Please...”
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes nearly black with desire, gold flecks glinting like embers in the darkness. Rain dripped from his lashes, from the sharp angles of his face. He was wild and beautiful and dangerous. A force of nature barely leashed.
His hands skimmed down my sides, fingers hooking into the waistband of my soaked pants. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice a low rumble that I felt in my bones. “Tell me now, Paesha.”
I moved to my toes, sliding my tongue across the base of his earlobe. “And if I don’t, will you fuck me against this wall, husband?”
His grip on my waist tightened, fingers digging into my flesh through the drenched fabric. “Is that what you want, wife? For me to take you here, where anyone could see?”
“Yes,” I breathed, the word a desperate plea. “Shall I beg?”
“Oh, no, darling. You shall scream.”
I cried out as he hoisted me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, the hard length of him pressing against my aching center through his clothes. Thorne’s mouth crashed down on mine in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep, claiming me, consuming me. I was lost to him, to the storm raging inside me, my whole body reduced to the places we were joined.
Thorne broke the kiss to nip sharply at my bottom lip. “Look at me.”
I obeyed, my heavy-lidded gaze meeting his, seeing the tempest of lust and possession and something infinitely more terrifying reflected back at me. Something that looked perilously like love.
“You’re mine,” he growled fiercely, one hand fisting in my rain-soaked hair again. “I will leave this world behind. You will go and I will follow. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. Every lifetime.”
Something in his words, in the lines he spoke, yanked at my consciousness, pulling me from the moment, from Thorne’s arms, from the streets of Wisteria. I gasped, my body going rigid against him as a flood of memories crashed over me, vivid and visceral, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I was on my knees in the mud, icy rain pelting my skin, plastering my hair to my face. Sobs wracked my body, tearing from my throat in raw, agonized howls that barely sounded human. Grief consumed me, a yawning chasm in my chest where my heart used to be.
Had I loved before? Maybe. I couldn’t remember his face. Nor his voice, nor the way his arms had felt around me, but I thought he was there. He was real. But just as fast as those thoughts had come, they vanished, leaving me ice cold and confused.
“What’s wrong?” Thorne asked, searching my face for an explanation.
This man. This strong, caring, beast of a man had loved and lost and still looked at me like that. Did it matter? If I had once had a lover I couldn’t remember? Everyone had a past and whatever mine was, it was laced with heartache and mourning. Just like his.
“It’s… it’s nothing. I just had this weird memory and now I’m suddenly so, so tired. I’m sorry. Can we go inside? Maybe it’s the rain.”
Thorne’s brow furrowed with concern, his grip on my waist loosening as he gently lowered me back to my feet. The loss of his warmth was immediate, the cold rain seeping into my bones, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The memories, fragmented and fleeting as they were, had shaken me to my core.
“Of course.” He brushed a sodden lock of hair from my face with a tenderness that made my heart clench.
We made our soggy way into the Parlor. The warmth of the interior was a welcome respite from the storm. We took the private stairs, and his hand never left the small of my back.
“Get changed,” he whispered, so hesitant it was clear he was trying to understand what’d just happened. “I’ll go downstairs and give orders to lock up.”
“Okay,” I whispered, hating what I’d made him question as I searched his eyes for understanding.
He swooped in, pulling me into his arms, wrapping them so firmly around me I knew he meant to protect me from whatever haunted me. We stayed like that for several minutes. Letting everything that had overheated calm back down to a simmer. But eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. Then, with a final squeeze of my hand, he left.
Alone, I let out a shuddering breath. Acknowledging and hating the absolute push and pull of our connection. In small tasks. In big ones. In the way we spoke. The way we looked at each other. The way we fought. The way we cared.
The room suddenly felt too big, too empty without him. Shivering, I peeled off my rain-soaked clothes, letting them fall to the floor with a wet plop. I pulled one of his shirts out of the cupboard and slipped it over my head. I raked my hands through my hair enough to braid it before crawling into the bed and pulled out the gold book, writing
I’m sorry. I think it’s just been a long day.
I was asleep before I heard him creep back into the room, kicking off his boots and sitting on the edge of the bed with a sigh. But at least he’d joined me. At least we’d come back to a place of peace compared to this morning. He laid down slowly, wrapping a strong arm around me and quickly fell asleep.
By morning, the tension had long dissipated.
“Tell me where you stand. Do you think he has the king or not?”
I drew back, nearly falling out of my chair at his desk. “The mighty Thorne Noctus is asking for my opinion? Are you feeling well, sir?”
He tried but failed to hide his smirk. “I said I’d help you. So, I’m helping. What do you think?”
“I’m so torn. I thought for sure I’d get an answer if we went and then there were signs for both. I can’t believe he’s a really amazing liar. He was really angry about needing his father to be found, but equally nonchalant about taking his place. Honestly, I’m more confused now than before we went.”
He opened his mouth but I threw a hand up. “Don’t bother with that comment. I don’t regret going.”
Three familiar knocks sounded at the door, followed by one more. All hint of playfulness melted from his face.
“Be nice,” I said.
“I’ll be nice if you be smart.”
“Did you just call me… not smart?”
“Not at all.” He grinned showing far too many teeth. “Come in, Archer.”
Archer stormed into the room, holding some kind of white hanging flower by the root. “I know it hasn’t been two days and if you want to fist fight me in the hall, fine. But the first snowdrop bloomed last night.” He held out the plant. “You know what this means.”
“Gods, Archer, you couldn’t have waited for us?” Harlow snapped, gulping down breaths as she leaned against the door frame.
“No. You’re slow.” He walked into the room and dropped the plant on the table. “We need a plan.”
Thorne leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, the smile gone. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I despise your planning skills these days, Bramwell.”
“You wanted to be included. I’m including you.” He plopped down beside me, jutting a chin in my direction. “Nice to see you didn’t kill each other last night.”
“I’m not sure he’s out of his murderous phase yet. Be careful,” I whispered loud enough for Harlow and Wee Willy to hear as they approached from behind. I leaned forward and grabbed Thorne’s coffee from where it sat in front of him, ignoring mine entirely, which garnered a blast of his attention. “What’s with the flower, anyway?”
“Well, Paesha darling,” he answered, sliding my cup to sit in front of him. “That’s the first bloom of spring, which means, Farris will officially announce the Hunt. Assuming it was seen by someone other than our flower thief here.”
“This wasn’t the only one,” Archer said.
“I keep hearing about the Hunt, but is it just what it sounds like? A bunch of men ride out on horses and kill an animal? Drink too much and start telling stories of their near death at the conquering? What’s the big deal?”
Willard clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Every year, after the first snowdrop bloom, Farris announces his Hunt. If they bloom in the city, it means the snow’s melted in the mountains. Him and some of his favorites… gods, mortals, courtesans, whoever, they join a caravan of carriages and go up to the countryside. They camp for days and usually the Hunt is for an animal, but also, because it’s Farris, some poor unfortunate soul usually faces a tragedy. Though none would ever admit that. There hasn’t been a single year where everyone came back alive.”
“So, I have a plan.” Archer sat back in his chair, refusing to make eye contact with Thorne as he turned to me. “It’s a good plan, but it might be dangerous.”
I lifted a shoulder, taking a drink. “I like a good plan.”
“Your eyes light up when someone mentions danger. Did you know that?” Archer said, a smirk on his face. “That’s why we’re friends.”
“Yes. It’s quite endearing,” Thorne rumbled.
Harlow cut in. “Can we get to the point?”
“Don’t you see it? This is how we’ll know once and for all if Farris is hiding the king.”
“Here we go,” Harlow said, throwing her hands up. “It always comes back to the king.”
He spun to face her. “You want Farris to rule, Sister? Really? As far as I’m concerned, we’re the only ones standing in the way of that happening.”
“So what’s your plan?” Thorne asked, shocking us all as he shifted the attention in the room.
“You’re willing to hear it?” Archer asked, mouth agape. “I thought for sure I was going to get shut down.”
“He’s agreed to be more helpful. Haven’t you, husband?” I asked with a grin as I took another sip of coffee.
He didn’t bother answering, just lifted a brow toward Archie.
“We let them get a half a day head start. Paesha uses her magic to follow, we camp in woods outside the hunt, then at night, or when they all leave to hunt, we slip into the tents and find the king. We never have to do anything when they are around. It’s completely safe.”
Wee Willy walked around the desk to sit on the edge, facing Archer. “Nothing is completely safe where gods and royals are concerned. And why would Farris take his father to the Hunt if he’s trying to hide him? It makes absolutely no sense. It’s far too dangerous.”
“That one’s obvious,” I answered. “Farris is too paranoid. He’s not going to leave the king to be handled by anyone else. If he has him, King Aldus will be there. Likely knocked out and bound, but he’ll be there.” I looked at Thorne. “You wanted to be invited. Consider this your invite. We’re going hunting.”