Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
I walked into the large open concept kitchen, early sunlight beginning to warm the white stone counters.
My nose danced a jig to the scent of frying meat and vegetables smothered in cheese and spices as I opened one of the jade green cabinets to grab a glass jar of finely ground cinnamon.
A shirtless Constin fluttered his fingers in his customary voiceless good morning as I passed on my way to the man-sized ice box.
“Your towels keep getting smaller and smaller,” I observed, poking him in the side with my finger. Hard. “If you’re bothering with these fabric scraps for my sake, don’t. You ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen, honey.”
He aimed a glare my way as I skipped out of his reach, opening the ice box.
“Do you still have a death wish after last night?” he growled, slightly hoarse. “I haven’t had coffee yet.”
I peered inside and reached for the glass jug of cold brew. “Funny, one of my sisters always said the exact same thing in response to her good morning poke. Well, except for the death wish part.”
“Then she didn't say the exact same thing. You have no fear, mortal. We need to work on that. Fear is an early warning system.”
I took the jug to the safe side of the kitchen along with heavy whipping cream and fixed myself a tall glass, adding in cinnamon and a squirt of the stevia I’d mentioned wistfully, in my loud voice, two days ago.
The stevia appeared in the kitchen within twenty-four hours.
There were perks to this arrangement.
Which reminded me. “If Lord Ashlyun has a jar of honey delivered, can you make sure you all keep your sticky fingers off until I get first taste? And no ‘taste-testing’ for ‘poison.’” I curled my fingers in air quotes, in case he was deaf and didn’t hear the irony in my voice.
Constin turned, spatula in hand, eyebrow inching up. “Why would Lord Ashlyun gift you his honey?”
“Not for that reason.” It didn’t take a genius to read his expression. I shrugged. “I mentioned I liked it in his tea and he said he’d get me some.”
His stare turned faintly scandalized. “You are another High Lord’s consort. He knows better. Skirmishes have started over less. Are you sure you didn’t. . .”
“I’m sure, Constin. He was being courteous.” I lowered my gaze, some of my good mood evaporating under the chill of memories I was diligently suppressing. “Maybe—maybe it’s his way of apologizing.”
“Are you okay?” He set the spatula down.
“No, but I don’t want to talk about it. I want to move forward, not backward. I learned my lesson and I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“You’re just like Drei. That’s not a good thing. You have to let yourself process, Anah.”
“I will. After the showcase.”
Constin shook his head. “Come here.”
I eyed him. “I don’t trust you.”
“Come here.”
Sighing, I set my glass down and approached.
He folded me in his arms. “You don’t have to process by yourself. Most of us—” he paused. “Most of us have either been through this ourselves, or dealt with loved ones who. . .”
I settled my forehead on his chest, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. “Most of you have endured torture? Is this like a rite of passage?”
“We’re Housesworn. Even those of us who’ve never been captured have been put through training.”
“Torture training?”
I felt his aborted shudder. “They don’t warn you. No one tells you ahead of time it’s coming. But one day, you’re taken. . .off the street, or from your bed, anywhere. You don’t know until it’s over that it wasn’t real.” He laughed. It wasn’t really laughter. “Real. It feels real. Or what would be the point?”
“Are you okay?” I asked, looking up. Remembering his words last night. “We would have lived with your destruction for the rest of our lives.”
He pulled away after pressing a kiss on my forehead, his smile empty.
And didn’t answer.
I was sipping my cold brew as Andrei wandered in wearing his loose, low hanging black silk pajama pants. He caressed Constin's pointed ear in greeting as he headed towards me, tension in the set of his shoulders and his intent gaze.
The tension leaped from him to me as he bracketed me against the counter with his arms on either side of my hips. I took another sip of my coffee, noting again that Andrei complemented his kitchen. So matchy matchy.
“Did you brush your teeth this morning?” he demanded, his purr smooth and warm as heated silk. “Unlike some insane people who don't brush until after they eat.”
“He means me,” Constin said, having turned back to the burners. “I’m the insane one. Brushing before you eat is counterproductive.”
“You will never convince me of that.”
I smiled up at Andrei. “I brushed first thing.”
I’d retired from his bedroom to my own to catch at least an hour of rest before rising to get ready for the day. He hadn’t been pleased I’d left him.
Andrei lowered his head. “Then you get your good morning kiss as a reward.”
Constin snorted as soft lips covered mine, pushing my mouth open so a minty fresh tongue—I almost giggled—slipped inside.
As always when he kissed me, I struggled to breathe, moaning in the back of my throat.
“Don't rub it in,” Constin said, “or I'll have to accelerate the timeline. Things are proceeding nicely, but we can skip steps if you press us.”
That was almost enough to distract me, but Andrei reinforced his attentions, claiming my full focus. My hand wavered, and I noted distantly that he plucked the glass away from me and set it on the counter.
When he pulled away, smiling and smug, it took me a moment to retune my vision. “You would have gotten that earlier if you’d been in my bed, stubborn woman. And not only on your mouth.”
Sweet Jesus. I cleared my throat, gripping the counter with one hand.
Andrei pushed away and wandered back to Constin, peering at the various skillets. He sighed. “I'm not in the mood for eggs this morning.”
“You get what the chef gives you,” Constin said.
“The quality of the service here is lacking of late. Almost as if someone thinks I’m distracted.”
Andrei snatched a sausage out of a skillet and began to walk away. I braced, observing the slight relaxation of Constin’s hand before he dropped the spatula, whirled, and leaped on his retreating Lord.
“Don't play near a hot stove!” I shouted, dashing forward to douse the flames as the boys wrestled each other to the floor.
I turned and glared down at them. Constin had Andrei on his back, straddling him at the waist, Andrei’s hands pinned above his head.
“Oh. Oh my.” That was not a visual I’d expected this morning and my imagination was plenty active.
“I want my good morning kiss too,” Constin said.
Andrei gave him a baleful glare, lip curling up in a sneer. “When have I ever kissed you in the morning? Your breath is foul.”
Constin opened his mouth mercilessly wide and blew. Andrei shouted, struggling.
I sighed, retrieved my cold brew, and drained it as Constin showered morning breath kisses all over Andrei's face.
“You will pay for this insult,” the High Lord promised.
“I want my good morning kiss.”
I rolled my eyes. “I'll give you your good morning kiss.”
Andrei jerked his head up so fast his forehead bashed into Constin’s. “What?”
Constin cursed, rubbing his head. I crooked a finger at Andrei’s luudthen. “Come. Leave the distressed damsel. I will slay the mighty dragon with my minty fresh lips.”
The blond warrior perked up, rising and leaping forward as Andrei lunged to grab his ankle.
I glared at them. “Obviously neither of you has ever had an accident in a kitchen.”
It was a roomy kitchen, granted. And they were remarkably quick and balanced even for Fae.
Constin stopped in front of me, lowering silvery lashes over luminous gray eyes.
I looked up at him. “Hmm. Undo your hair.”
“What?” Andrei repeated, leaning on his elbow. “Anah. . .my one darling. Don't let him manipulate you like this. He planned the entire thing, I know him.”
Constin reached up a hand and tugged whatever was binding his pale hair free so the long strands spilled down his shoulders to his lean waist. My gaze traveled down, my fingers flexing.
Legolas, Legolas, wherefore art thou Legolas.
“What are your thoughts on Lord of the Rings cosplay?” I asked.
“Don't tell me you prefer long hair on your lovers,” Andrei said, an ominous note in his voice.
Constin snorted. “What lover doesn't prefer long hair? More to grip. My kiss, Anah.”
I stood on my tippy toes, angled my face to Constin. . .and kissed him on the tip of his nose before lowering back down to my heels.
“Your breath isn't that bad. I've smelled worse.”
He blinked at me. “You cheated.”
“No, I didn't. You accepted the bargain without demanding specifics.”
Constin frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “You're learning too fast for my taste.”
I grinned and sauntered around him, blowing Andrei a kiss as I left the kitchen.
“Don't want to be late. See you all later.”
“Is that all you're going to eat for breakfast, Hasannah?” Andrei asked, flipping to his feet.
“The coffee had protein in it and the heavy cream is full fat. I'm fine. You know I can't dance on a full stomach.”
“If you skip lunch, I will know.”
“Yes, I know you’ll know, because you have Mathen spying on me. And I’m pretty sure you’ve seduced the Mistress into sending regular updates.”
“So says the baby succubus.”
I refused to dignify that with a response.
“This isn't over,” Constin called after me. “I will claim what you promised.”
I waved my hand over my shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Mathen appeared at the front door, holding my bag. He glanced toward the kitchen, head cocked.
“What was all the shrieking about this time?”
“The faelings were playing.”
He shook his head. “I don't know why anyone lets those two in the kitchen at the same time. They're going to burn the house down one of these days.”
“Hasannah.” Andrei’s voice carried, and it was rarely good when he spoke my full name in that tone.
I paused. “Yes?”
“We will discuss your affinity and how you used it on Mathen when you come home tonight. Enjoy your day.”