Page 33 of Taste of Thorns

“I can tell.”

He looks into my eyes, then down to the ring and nods. “It belonged to my dad. To his before him.”

“Then you definitely should not be giving it away, Fox Tudor.”

He spins it around his finger, gaze still locked on the dull metal. “He gave it to me the day I left for the academy.” He inhales and then blows the air away. “He had such high hopes for me – such fucking high expectations. He was … proud of me. More than he should have been.”

“I bet he’s still proud – a son teaching at the academy.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been back.”

“You haven’t? Well, it is a shithole.”

“I miss him,” he says quietly.

“Did he pass away?” He shakes his head. “Then why haven’t you been back to see him?”

“How could I, Briony? How could I let him see what I’ve become? He’d be disgusted, repulsed.”

“Err, Fox,” I say, “you are anything but repulsive.” I snuggle up closer to his cold body. “Anything but.”

“You’re just a little freak, Miss Storm, with a weird taste in men.” He shakes his head again. “I mean, I still don’t understand your attraction to the wolf.”

I giggle and kiss the point on his chest directly above his heart. “Was your dad a good man, Fox? A good dad?”

“The best,” he says, his voice cracking in his throat.

“Then he won’t care.”

“I’m a monster, Briony.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’ll love you no matter what. You should go back and see him. He probably misses you too.”

He exhales.

“I’m meant to be the older and wiser one here,” he mutters.

“I’d kill for a dad who took the slightest bit of notice in me, Fox. Don’t waste that.”

“Your dad’s a damn fool.”

“No, just a drunk. And given everything he went through – everything he lost – I’m not sure I blame him.”

“It’s weird,” Fox says, “when I was in Slate, I couldn’t wait to get out. I hated everything about it. Now, I’d give anything to go back. For things to be how they were.”

“Because you’ve forgotten just how shit it is.”

“Not all of it. People looked out for one another back in Slate. They cared about each other.”

“Hmmm,” I say, because I don’t remember anyone looking out for me. In fact, most seemed to turn a blind eye to the underfed kid with the bruises.

“It’s far more cutthroat among the shadow weavers. You don’t know who is your friend and who might stab you in the back any minute now. You can’t trust anyone.”

“I can trust you though, can’t I?” I laugh.

“Yes,” he says, far more seriously than I was expecting. I was only joking after all. “You can trust me, Briony. I will never betray you.”

He glides his hand up and down my back. His touch is still cold. But tucked up in his cozy room, I don’t mind it. In fact, I like the sting of it. I like the way it makes my breath catch. Perhaps Beaufort isn’t the only kinky one.