Page 25 of Bitten & Burned

Ten

DEVOURED

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

The manor felt… eerily quiet when I awoke. Dmitri was gone again, but that was to be expected. It was early afternoon, judging by the golden light flowing in through all the windows.

I stretched out on the settee, my toes pointing and my fingers wriggling above my head. One of those, good long stretches that feel necessary.

Fig was playing nearby, jumping around and batting a piece of fluff on the floor. I wasn’t certain where the fluff came from, but, then again, I was never certain where Fig found the things he played with, so I brushed it off.

As I rose, I felt the weight in my pocket. I reached inside and found it. The rabbit Quil had left me. I brought it up to my nose, inhaling the scent of soap and forest and Quil.

I could have sworn he hated me after the bond. I wasn’t surprised; given what had happened, he reacted precisely the way I thought he would. It was Vael who had surprised me. In a bad way.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

Nope. Not now. I wasn’t going to think about him yet. Any thought I gave to his scowl, to his honey eyes going dark, any thought at all made me feel queasy. So I didn’t think about it.

What I’d done? It had been inadvertent.

What he’d done? That had been a choice.

I swallowed thickly. I wished I could feel as much conviction with that as I thought.

Guilt still tugged at me from all directions. But this? This little rabbit with the missing eye? It helped.

Quil had helped.

And the fact that he had helped, and not the man I thought I loved? The man I thought loved me? That threw me for a loop.

A good one, in light of all that happened.

That one nice gesture made everything feel… closer. Better. More complete.

Like a coin purse with the drawstring pulled snug.

Everything tucked in. Neat. Tidy.

Like I could finally breathe again.

As I sat up, I wiggled my bare toes against the rug on the floor. I ran my tongue over my teeth and winced. I needed to brush. Needed to wash up. Change my clothes.

Go back to my rooms and freshen up.

It had been four days since the bond snapped tautly and everything shattered. Since I cried on the floor, too overwhelmed to stand. And this was the first time I felt like taking care of myself.

That was something.

I got up, clucked at Fig when he started batting at my skirts and bare ankles. Gods, his tiny claws were sharp.

Little monster.

I grinned and gathered up the rest of my things. At the last second, I also grabbed the black embroidered handkerchief. I’d give it to Quil personally. If I could find him. He was a difficult person to find if he didn’t want to be found.

But maybe, just maybe… today, he would?

Maybe I was being too optimistic. Too starry-eyed. But I could use some starlight. Starlight felt hopeful.

A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me: Hope is the cruelest beast known to mankind.

I shrugged it off. If my time at the manor had taught me anything, it was this: sometimes the beasts aren’t the ones you should fear. Sometimes, they’re the ones holding you together.

After freshening up, brushing my teeth, and pulling on a new skirt and blouse that didn’t smell like floor and tears, I wandered the halls in the manor.

I wasn’t being aimless. Or I told myself as much.

I was stretching my legs. Exercising. Just walking around.

Just happening to carry a black handkerchief—with messy, silver embroidery, soft from use—and a small, smushed rabbit in my pocket.

The truth? I was looking for him.

I didn’t find him in the kitchen. Or at least not the ‘him’ I was searching for.

I did, however, find Anton meticulously rolling out pastry dough and cracking a block of delicious dark chocolate with a knife.

He grinned at me, and I stole a piece of chocolate from the cutting board.

It was bitter, smooth perfection as it melted on my tongue.

“I take it you’re feeling better?” he asked, exhaling as he smacked the folded pastry dough with his rolling pin.

“Somewhat…” I said with a grin. “I hope this is something sweet?”

“I’m always sweet for you, darling.”

I laughed and snagged another piece of chocolate. “I’ll be around.”

“I’ll be here… silently treasuring you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied.

I left Anton to his pastries and chocolate. I wasn’t entirely certain how to take his words anymore. He’d always flirted, but this felt like more than flirting. But I had time, I suppose.

Time, and plenty of chocolate.

The piece I’d stolen was lovely—smooth on my tongue, bittersweet, and rich. I let it melt, bit again, chewed slowly. It could’ve used a touch of rock salt, but otherwise? Perfect.

It lasted while I searched other areas of the manor, ending up in the courtyard, looking around at the emptiness and dead leaves rustling in the breeze. No secrets revealed themselves in the weathered flagstones, so I went back inside, going to the only other place I’d ever seen him. The library.

And, of course, there he was. Because where else would he be, if not hiding in plain sight?

He sat in a darkened corner, waiting out the sunset. A thick volume open and balanced in one hand, the other propping up his head against his knee.

I squinted in the low light, trying to make out the spine.

I’d have bet on dark philosophy. Or a field guide on regional animals. Plants. Local fungus, even.

The Left Hand of the Marquess.

Well then.

That was surprising.

I hadn’t pegged Quil Ashborne for a romance enthusiast.

Especially not enthused for a title I’d read before.

I stepped into the room, letting my footfalls land loud enough to be noticed.

“Has he ripped the laces on her bodice yet? Or are they still pretending to be overly cautious?”

Quil didn’t startle—he never did—but I saw it: the way his shoulders tensed, the stillness that overtook him. His finger froze on the page.

He looked up at me, eyes dark and steady.

“Not yet,” he said. “But I suppose that’s something to look forward to.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well. I suppose they have to drag it out. For… maximum satisfaction.”

“I didn’t know it was a romance when I picked it up,” he said with a shrug. “They’re still fencing with metaphors. It’s exhausting.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not my favorite,” I said, moving a little closer. “I prefer the swashbuckler romances. Those pirates don’t pull their punches.”

His mouth twitched. A shadow of a smile. “Pirates, huh? Far cry from your usual, isn’t it? Thought you went for those… quiet intellectual types.”

“That’s why you read it in books. For the fantasy.”

“Fantasy,” he repeated. “Is that all it is? No deep dark desires you’re keeping from the world?”

“Not keeping anything. I’m telling you about them, aren’t I?”

He was silent for a few seconds, closing the book thoughtfully and placing it on the floor beside him. His eyes were back on me. “Why are you here, Rowena? To talk trashy romance or—?”

“This is yours,” I said, reaching into my pocket and producing the black embroidered handkerchief. “To replace the one you used to… wrap up Hemlock.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Hemlock?”

“Yeah… the rabbit?” I tugged him out of my pocket as well. “I’m calling him Hemlock. It’s a kind of carrot.”

A real smile this time. One that tugged at both corners of his mouth and made him look… momentarily younger. His gaze dropped to the rabbit. “His name’s Pip.”

“Pip?” I repeated.

He nodded. “Call him what you want… but that’s his name.”

“Then I’ll call him Pip... Can I keep him?”

“Why do you think I gave him to you?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. For a few days. Give him back after?”

“I don’t give things temporarily. If I give you something, it’s yours.”

“Noted,” I replied, my throat tight.

He pushed up to his feet, not moving closer, just wiping his hands on his trousers and scooping up the book to return to the shelf.

He moved with practiced precision. As if he wanted everyone to think he was languid and lithe, but under that ran a current of something stronger.

He slipped the book back on the shelf and turned back to me, leaning against the shelf.

“You keeping him, then?”

I slid Pip into my pocket. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

We were silent for another long moment before I broke the silence. “The pirate romances are on that shelf right above your head.”

“That’s great information for someone in search of a pirate romance.”

“I figured… if you’re into that kind of thing… To Plunder a Duchess is the one you want.”

He turned, looking at the shelf in question, reaching for and plucking the familiar red volume and opening it to a random page.

“‘He pinned her against the map table, one boot braced on a coil of rope, the other planted between her thighs.’”

Quil’s voice was low, deliberate.

“‘You’ve mapped out every corner of this ship,’ he growled, ‘but now it’s my turn to chart the depths of you.’”

He glanced up.

“Her bodice tore like parchment, her gasp swallowed by the salt-slick kiss of his mouth. The compass spun wildly behind them, as if even the sea herself had lost her bearings.”

“That’s what you like, huh? That get you going, Duchess?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re butchering it with your dry delivery. You have to let the metaphors work for you, not rush through them to get to the good part. Those are the good parts.”

“Sounded fine to me.”

“Your delivery leaves much to be desired.”

He laughed again, closing the book and folding his arms. “Enlighten me.”

“You sounded like you were giving a weather report. ‘Chance of heavy petting. Storm-surge expected mid-thrust.’”

He huffed out a laugh—low and warm—but left the thread dangling between us.

The silence settled like a heavy blanket. Smothering the flame.

And I wasn’t about to let it go.

“What’s… going on, Quil?”

He blinked, caught off guard. Good. Felt nice to get the drop on him for once.

“What?” he asked, stalled. “What?”

“At the bonding ceremony. What you said. You called me a disease. An infection. An infestation.”