Page 63 of Taste of Thorns

“I failed in that moment. I failed you.”

“You didn’t, Thorne.” She hesitates, then goes on. “It’s happened to me too. I’ve just sort of, I don’t know, shut down like that. My friend, Clare, you know the smart one? Her parents are doctors. She said it’s a natural response to trauma. Fly says it happens to a lot of the soldiers out in Iron.”

“Yeah, but I’m meant to be different. I’m meant to keep you safe. It’s the only thing I’m good for.”

I open my mouth to speak but then I catch Beaufort’s gaze, one telling me to let the girl speak instead.

“You’re good for a lot more than that, Thorne Cadieux. I enjoy your company. I enjoy it a lot. I like talking with you. And I’ve missed that the last few days. I’ve missed our conversations. I’ve missed you.”

He meets her gaze and for a moment they just stare at one another and I have to concede how hard it must be for the dude, unable to reach out and touch like he must want to.

“I’ll do better,” he says finally. “I won’t let you down again.”

“You didn’t let me down in the first place. And that isn’t how this is going to work,” she says, pointing between the two of them. “This isn’t a one-sided relationship. We’re going to look out for one another. And that includes Fox,” she says, swinging her gaze to me and Beau.

I peer towards Beau but he nods in agreement.

“Okay?” she asks Thorne. “Friends again?”

“Yes, friends again.”

“Good.” She tilts her head and her lips twitch. “Because I think you may also be a useful source of books.”

“Oh, I think he’ll give you all the books you want, Kitten.” I chuckle. “So you gonna move in with us then?”

“I dunno,” she says. “Stars, is it tempting! I bet the Empress herself doesn’t have a room half as nice as this one. But moving in with you all is a big step – a massively humongous one. And I don’t want to desert my friends.”

“At least stay the night tonight,” Beaufort says, dragging her towards him; something catches her eyes as he does. Something on his wrist.

“What’s that?” she asks.

“Huh?” Beaufort murmurs, his eyes still transfixed on her.

She takes his hand in hers and examines his wrist. His gaze falls that way too and I step in closer.

“The markings,” she says, running the pads of her thumbs over the faint lines that now curl across Beaufort’s wrist. “You have them too.”

“Shit,” he says, turning her hand over, and pulling up the sleeve of her coat. “Do you have them?”

But little Kitten’s wrist is as smooth and clear as it always was, only the bones and the veins patterning her skin.

“Dray?” Beaufort asks.

They turn towards me and catch me with my wrist right up against my face, scouring my skin.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Beaufort says with a grin.

“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” Briony says.

“I can.” He peers down at his wrist again. “I wonder what it means. Why now?”

“It means, little Kitten is most definitely ours,” I say, sandwiching her between me and my bond brother. “You wanna christen this room and this bed?” I ask, nibbling at her neck.

“Actually,” she says, peering across at Thorne, “what I’d really like is for you to make me another one of those heated chocolate things.”

“Hot chocolate,” Beau corrects, but she just shrugs at him.