51. Chapter Fifty-One
After we towel off, Trinte dresses me in one of his T-shirts that reaches my knees. Slipping on a pair of boxer briefs and locking his bedroom door, he follows me to the bed. When we’re settled, with me tucked into his body, I breathe in his scent.
Letting out a happy sigh when he tugs me closer, I curl into a ball. His tail curls around me, leaving me feeling safe.
Kissing the top of my head, he murmurs, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming. You’ll never understand how much it means to me.”
While it’s true, I’ll never fully grasp his perspective, I’ve always been driven to be the person younger me would’ve needed. That version of myself would’ve been desperate for someone to show up. “I knew you needed me.”
Trinte hugs me harder. “Thank you for not turning away from my mess.”
Instead of responding, I kiss his chest and burrow deeper into his body.
The room is quiet except for our breaths and heartbeats.
It’s a moment of peace after a raging storm.
There’s no way it can hold, especially since the Cairanin is guaranteed.
I want to know more about it, but this moment is about connecting.
“I’m sorry in advance if I have a nightmare,” he says quietly.
He’s needs reassurance, something I’ll never deny him . “We’ll work through it together if it happens.”
Trinte’s quiet for a moment. “You were so distant this past week. I hated it.”
I’m glad he can’t see my grimace. “I’m sorry, I just needed space to think things through. I had coffee with Talia, and she forced me to think about things. I wanted to take time and be sure that I wasn't going to hurt you.”
Before all Hells broke loose, I'd intended to call him tomorrow. A week apart was more than enough.
“She’s been texting me." He gives me an uneasy look. “But I wasn’t sure if it’s appropriate to tell her things.”
“Talia is a good mom. She won’t judge you, although you might hate her opinion.”
He chuckles. “It’ll take me a while to get used to having any form of mothering.”
“So we’re just agreeing that Orliana will say yes to Fynn?” I joke.
Trinte huffs out a laugh. “He would only be so lucky.” He’s quiet, stroking a hand down my back. It feels divine. “I need to talk to him. We can’t leave things as they are.”
Just thinking about Fynn hurting Trinte like that spikes anger. “He hurt you — make him apologize first.”
Trinte’s chuckle rumbles against my face. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Firefly. I truly believe he did it to protect Orliana.” His hand comes to the back of my head, as if holding something precious. “I would do the exact same if faced with something similar.”
He means if someone was trying to hurt me. “I would too.”
“I have no doubt,” he said, voice full of amusement. He yawns. “I’m exhausted. Can we talk more about it all tomorrow?”
Closing my eyes, I match his yawn. “Of course. Goodnight, manservant.”
“Goodnight, Firefly.”
***
We’re in the middle of eating breakfast when there’s a knock at the door. Trinte scents the air with a scowl. It was such a lovely, relaxing morning and my pancakes are only half-eaten. But by the look on his face, I can tell they might be cold by the time I return to them.
“Trinte? Are you home?” It’s Fynn.
“Kyrielle?” That’s Orliana.
I examine the oversized T-shirt big enough to reach my knees.
This will have to do. Trinte’s already walking to the front door, but I rush by him, fueled by indignation.
Maybe it’s misplaced, but this man wept in my arms over what Fynn did.
I don’t care that he claims it’s more complicated than it appears — you don’t electrocute your brother.
“What the—?” Trinte says as I step in front of him, turning the front door locks.
I shoot him a look, swinging the door open. Fynn, expecting Trinte, has to dip his head to look at me. His right eye is swollen shut. “Kyrielle?”
“Kyrielle!” Orliana rushes past him to give me a hug.
I glare at Fynn the whole time, barely feeling her hug. Around her arm, I snarl at him, “I want you to know that if you ever do that to him again, I will become your personal fucking nightmare.”
Orliana releases me with a stunned expression. Jabbing a finger at the Dragon, I say quietly, “I mean it, Fynn. Ever again, for any reason ever, and I won’t give a fuck that my best friend loves you.”
Fynn looks at Orliana, dangerously close to looking amused. “Is she serious?”
My fist curls, ready to punch him, because how dare he dismiss me!
When I go to take a step closer, to do just that, something jerks at the back of my shirt. “Easy, Firefly.” I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. Fynn watches me, bewildered. “You’re lucky — this time.”
Fynn looks over my head, finally properly disturbed. “So you two are friends now?”
I eye Fynn’s crotch and Trinte yanks me back, wrapping an arm around my chest in temperance. “It would be a mistake to discount her, brother. I recommend we go inside.”
“Or not,” I growl, ignoring the way Orliana watches me, jaw dropped and arms slack at her side. “Why are you here?”
Fynn does a double take, having the gall to look indignant. Orliana puts a hand on his arm as he shoots back, “I’m here to talk to my brother, Kyri.”
“He’s properly warned, Firefly.” There’s amusement in Trinte’s voice as he pulls me back.
I let him, because I’m nice like that, but I don’t stop glowering at the red Dragon as they step in.
“Go finish your pancakes before they go cold,” Trinte whispers in my ear, then kissing my temple.
“Fine,” I mutter. Shooting Fynn one last look, I stalk over to my chair.
Dramatically grabbing my knife, I saw into the pancakes, giving Fynn a very pointed look.
Orliana’s watching me like she’s never seen me before, but she doesn’t leave Fynn’s side.
Right now, there’s a clear delineation between the four of us.
Long-lasting relationships hanging by a worn thread.
Stabbing my pancakes, I chew angrily, watching Trinte walk back into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Water?”
“Bleach?” I mutter.
Trinte shoots me a warning look, and I inhale a steadying breath. Okay, maybe that comment was a little much.
“Erm,” Fynn looks at me, then his brother. “Maybe I should skip a beverage today.”
“She won’t be pouring it,” Trinte assures him. With a too-wide, disturbing smile, I take another bite of my pancakes.
“And how do I know you don’t want me dead either?” Fynn says cautiously. Orliana takes his hand, casting me a worried look.
“Because if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Trinte says simply. Holding up the coffeepot, he asks, “Coffee?”
“Um, yes, please,” Orliana says nervously.
“Fine,” Fynn says, glancing at me with suspicious golden eyes.
“Have a seat.” Trinte waves at the table I’m sitting at. It gives me immense glee to see Fynn edge over to a chair like I’m a wild beast waiting to take a bite. He looks properly unnerved when I grin with a mouth full of pancakes.
Making men nervous is my purpose in life.
“Oh, knock it off,” Orliana hisses, sitting next to me. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Pointing the fork at her, I say, “You weren’t here last night. You don’t get to tell me what is ridiculous.”
At that, her mouth snaps shut. There’s silence in the apartment, minus the sound of Trinte pouring the coffee.
I’m eating my lemon pancakes and stewing, because I’ll be goddess damned before I let Fynn hurt Trinte ever again. He might be a Dragon, but his balls are easily removed.
After shooting me a nervous look, Fynn says, “Brother, I want to talk to you about yesterday.”
“I assumed as much,” Trinte says dryly, bringing over their mugs of coffee. “Seeing as you don’t like pancakes, and I didn’t invite you over.”
“How could you not like this?” I growl, stuffing another bite into my mouth, chewing angrily. “Psycho.”
Trinte sits in the chair beside me, placing a hand on my arm. A silent message of, chill the fuck out, you lunatic, or something similar, I’m sure. I huff out some of my anger and focus on my breakfast.
Fynn starts. “Trinte, I didn’t know he was coming. I was actively trying to get him to leave when you walked in.”
“I figured,” Trinte says mildly, taking a sip of his coffee.
“And I thought you were going to kill him.”
“I was.”
“But you swore to never do that around Orliana.”
“Technically, I didn’t.”
Orliana slams her mug on the table, splashing coffee onto the table. “Are you not going to apologize for what you did to him?”
“Orliana …” Fynn shoots her a warning look.
“No! He could’ve shattered your skull, Fynn.”
“But I didn’t,” Trinte snaps. “I definitely could have, but I didn’t.”
“And that makes it better?” she says, incredulous.
“I’m not apologizing, Orliana,” Trinte says, tone sharp. “While I understand why Fynn did what he did, it was still an egregious choice.”
“You were going to kill your own father, Trinte. You can’t come back from that.”
Trinte leans forward, resting on his arms as he appraises my best friend. “You’ve killed before. Did you come back from that?”
“That’s different,” Orliana insists. “That was my ex-husband, and in self-defense. Patricide is a whole other thing.” Her expression softens. “I worry what it will do to you.”
“What I did probably scared you, and that I’m very sorry for," Trinte murmurs.
Orliana looks down. “You really scared me, Trinte.”
Trinte reaches across the table with a hand. “Please know I would have never done anything to hurt you.”
My best friend stares at the offered hand, glances at Fynn, then places her hand on Trinte’s palm. “I believe you.”
They share a loaded look, then let go. Orliana sips her coffee, shoulders relaxing. Fynn leans back in his chair, delivering a scathing glare at his brother. It hits me that right now, both brothers have only one good eye. I bite down the laugh — now is not the time for dark humor.
Fynn taps the table with a finger, holding his mug in the other hand. “You challenged him to a Cairanin.”
Trinte winces. “Yes.”
“The clock is ticking. Do you know what day?”
“Clock?” I place the fork down, alarmed. “What clock?”