And I vow, Prince Ravar will die for what he’s done to these men.
Five
Puppy Training
When I wakethe next morning, I find myself in a similar position as before; I’m still clinging to Roman’s hard chest, and he’s still holding me like I’m the only thing in the world keeping him together. His breathing is no longer frantic like it was then. His heartbeat is a mellow sound that’s soothing to feel so near to my own.
I don’t know when I curled up on the edge of the enormous black clad bed, but at some point, the three men joined me. I peek over Roman’s scarred shoulder and find Zilo spread out in the middle, his biceps carved hard as he lies with his hand behind his messy black locks. His braids are scattered across the onyx silk pillow, and I can’t help but recall how much they emphasized the importance of those braids… Avian lies far against the other edge of the bed, his back to me, and the middle part of his chestnut hair is still pulled back into a single braid that ends in a short knot at the back of his head.
My fingers twitch as they graze the smooth feel of Roman’s short shaved hair.
No braids.
That’s all I think about while my fingers trail up and down, my arms wrapped loosely around this strong but beaten man. His body is beautifully tan but nicked all over with lines of wounds now healed.
“You’re startin’ to be real sweet to me, beautiful,” he whispers suddenly, startling me with his eyes closed and his body still completely at rest against my own. “I think I like you better when you’re cursing me out.”
A smile plays at my lips, and it’s only then that his dark lashes lift, his gaze piercing to study me in the dimness of the light.
“I can call you a fur fucker and stroke your hair like a lover. It’s called multitasking, Romey.” My head cocks to the side, but I can’t explain why I’m still holding him.
Or why he’s still holding me. His big palm slides lower down to the small of my back as he pulls me in closer against this warm chest.
“Mmm, I’d like that even more though,” he says in a low sensual tone that flutters across my neck and all through my body.
My heart is now a gooey mess that I can’t control. It beats too hard, and I know he hears it. I know he knows what he’s doing, and I hate it.
I hate that someone I hate can make my heart so stupid.
Like a bratty child, I pull his short hair between my finger and thumb, and he doesn’t even flinch.
“What’s with the braids?” I ask in a serious and not at all distracted tone.
The mischief shining in his gaze dulls like I’ve struck a chord. I get the feeling there are a lot of pained chords in Roman’s miserable little life though.
“High Hell keep track of their battles. They wear their braids like badges to honor the lives they’ve taken.”
The dozens of tiny braids in Zilo’s hair flash through my mind. Avian has one.
Roman’s hair is short and cropped close to his skull: no braids.
“You’re a High Hell, but you’ve never been to battle?” I’m back to running my fingers over the spikey feel of his hair.
“I have,” he admits in a shallow tone. It’s more of a crippling exhale than a voice.
“Why don’t you honor the lives you’ve taken then?” The moment I ask it, he releases me, pulls away and rolls over flat on his back. His lips tense with a stifled wince, and I know his wounds from last night are still fresh.
And yet, he continues to keep the space between us.
“What?” I ask with a new cautiousness in my tone.
“Just let it go, beautiful,” he says as he closes his eyes like he’s decided to now go back to sleep.
He’s avoiding the answer. He doesn’t want to tell me.
As a mature woman, I leave him in silence. It’s the adult thing to do. It’s what any reasonable human would understand.
And that just doesn’t sit right with me.
