“Where did he come from?”
“He lived in Marilet before…”
Rul trailed off like he wasn’t certain he should have said that, a sheepish look on his face.
“He’s from Marilet?” she asked, incredulous.
He cleared his throat, his uncomfortable smile turning into a frown.
“Yes, but long before your time.”
“Did he worship Celeste?”
There was another long pause as he glanced around the room, as if Bellinor would appear from the shadows.
“He did.”
“So why does he hate her so much?”
Rul let out a huff of air, and she already surmised what his answer would be.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
She rolled her eyes, knowing that would lead her exactly nowhere. Bellinor was as forthcoming as a closed book, his loathing of the moon mother palpable. Before she could protest, beg Rul to tell hersomething, the door opened, Bellinor appearing as if they had beckoned him with their conversation.
They both stared at him wide-eyed, and his wings fluttered as if disconcerted by the strange looks. His light blue skin looked beautiful in the glow of the hearth, and she wondered when she had started preferring his non-human form to the human one.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, ambling gingerly into the room and sitting on the couch opposite them.
Rul shook his head, clearly not wanting her to bring up the questions about Celeste.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” she said, though the air was tense with peculiar energy.
Bellinor crossed his leg over his knee, leaning back and opening the book he’d brought, a small red volume with no title.
“Were you two talking about me?” he asked after a minute of strained silence.
Rul resumed playing with her hair, trying to act casual.
“Of course, we weren’t,Master.”
Bellinor growled, but said no more, his eyes trained on the book.
Strange how he would show up at such a time, especially when he seemed to avoid her at all costs.
“But now that you’re here,” Rul started, trailing a hand up her thigh, the whisper of a touch tingling her nerves as he danced closer to her center. “Perhaps we can try some of those things we talked about?”
She furrowed her brows, trembling under his ministrations. His touches seemed innocent enough, though there was a clear tension seething right under the surface.
Bellinor closed the book, his full attention on her now, that hungry expression on his face that she recalled so well from their morning in the woods.
“We’ve got some ideas for you,” Rul explained, and Bellinor’s lips twitched, like he was trying not tosmile. “But Bellinor’s too polite to take you like he wants to.”
“Polite,” she huffed sarcastically, and Rul gripped her chin hard, sending a jolt of arousal through her.
“Don’t be rude, sweetheart. Bellinor’s been letting you get accustomed to le Jardin, but don’t forget why you’re here. You take us whenever we want, however we want. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she rasped, her voice immediately hoarse as her body and mind battled each other.
