Page 121 of Bitten & Burned

I sipped the tea slowly, the honey and lemon still warm enough to soothe my throat. Cassian stayed beside me, propped up on one elbow, his hand lazily dragging up and down on my hip beneath the blankets, tracing my curves.

When I set the cup back on the nightstand and curled into him again, he brushed his lips against my temple.

“You should eat something,” he said gently.

I groaned. “You with your tea and food. Did you appoint yourself my caretaker while I wasn’t looking?”

“I’m the only one here,” he said. “And you’ve had a horrible week. Your body needs care, even if your heart’s still catching up.”

“Don’t make it sound so damn reasonable,” I muttered.

“I’m not trying to be reasonable. I’m trying to make sure you don’t pass out on the carriage ride tomorrow.”

I blinked. “Oh, right. We’re going back to Halemont…”No Quil or Anton. Yet.

He nodded. “Early evening. Vael and Dmitri will be expecting us before the cock crows on the day after tomorrow.”

I sighed, letting the weight of that settle in. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been gone for long. Not long enough, at any rate.”

“It hasn’t,” he said. “We don’t get to choose the pace—only how we move through it.”

His hand slid across my stomach, and for a second, I thought he might pull me in again—but instead, he just kissed my shoulder and pulled back the covers.

“Come on,” he said. “Just a little soup. Or bread. Or I can heat up the pastries Anton left.”

That made me pause. “He left pastries?”

Cassian gave a small smile. “Your favorite: Pain au chocolat. Four of them. You were asleep when he dropped them off.”

My chest clenched—something between sorrow and sweetness. I wasn’t ready to talk about Anton. Not yet.

Butchocolate…

“Fine,” I muttered, pushing back the covers. “But only if you’re having one too.”

He stood, gloriously naked, and tossed me his shirt from the chair near the bed.

“Deal,” he said. “But I’m not heating them. We’re eating them cold and in bed like degenerates.”

“For a general,” I said, tugging the shirt over my head, “you really don’t have much discipline.”

Cassian turned at the doorway, looking back with a gleam in his eye.

“You gave me my orders,” he said. “I’m just following them.”

We ate the pastries in bed, crumbs scattering between the sheets. Cassian quietly pretended not to notice when I started crying again halfway through.

He didn’t try to stop me.

He just passed me the last one, kissed my forehead, and said, “More for you.”

When I finally fell asleep, it was with chocolate on my lips, warmth in my belly, and the steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek.

For the first time in days, I didn’t feel broken.

I felt held.

Eighteen