“Only for you,” he whispered, kissing his mark and relishing the shiver that coursed through her body the moment his lips made contact.
He lost track of how many times he took her that night.
How many times he thought those three little words, terrified to say them despite how deeply he felt them.
The last time he’d uttered them, his world had blown apart. He didn’t want to tempt fate.
But a part of him, the part connected to her via the blood they’d shared, could’ve sworn he heard her saying them back.
CHAPTERFORTY
Hella, there’s no way I can eat all this.”
An elaborate array of breakfast foods spread out before Cassandra: plump sausages, crispy bacon, cured meats and cheeses, a bowl of plump grapes, and a steaming heap of cinnamon buns dripping with white icing.
Hella approached the bungalow’s dining table, beams of sunlight caressing her crimson feathers, and set down yet another dish—brown toast squares piled with scrambled eggs, each topped with a peach-colored slice of smoked fish.
“Eat what can,” Hella ordered, untying her apron and taking a seat. “Need energy, tiny human. You had dramatic few days.”
Cassandra wondered which activities had inspired Hella to serve her such a replenishing meal: the draining, disastrous attempt at her mother’s restoration or the very loud exertions that had occurred in Tristan’s bedroom last night?
Cassandra yawned. “I’m fine, really Hella. All things considered, I feel pretty incredible this morning. Tristan took good care of me.”
As if saying his name had summoned him, Tristan shuffled into the kitchen with sleep-mussed hair and a lazy grin, rubbing at his bare chest. The sight of his hip-baring pants made Cassandra instantly ravenous. And not for the spread laid out before her.
She tugged at the collar of her sleep shirt, ensuring his mark was covered. Not that she worried about Hella ratting them out, but better not take any chances.
“Oh, I took care of her all right,” Tristan crooned as he stepped into the kitchen and filled a mug with coffee before joining the two females at the dining table. “Cass and I fucked like bunnies last night.”
Hella hooted a laugh, slapping Cassandra on the shoulder and nearly knocking her face into the cinnamon buns. Then Hella’s eyebrows knit together. “I not understand saying, fuck like bunnies. Bunnies fuck fast. Is bad thing. Why want fuck like bunny?”
Tristan blew a tendril of steam from his coffee before taking a thoughtful sip. “Good point, Hella. Never thought about it that way. What creature in the animal kingdom fucks the longest and leaves its partner the most satisfied? That’s what we fucked like.”
Cassandra groaned, placing her face in her hands. “It’s far too early and I haven’t had nearly enough coffee for this conversation.”
Tristan shot to his feet, then dashed to the kitchen to grab her a cup of the life-giving liquid.
He clunked a piping mug before her, along with a small carafe of cream and a ceramic cup filled with sugar. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before retaking his seat, then settled his warm hand on her bare thigh. Sipping his coffee, he stroked her leg, trailing his fingers under her shorts.
Her body tingled as she prepared her own coffee, fighting the urge to tell Hella to bugger off so she could tackle Tristan to the floor for round five? Six?
“What plan tonight?” Hella asked, grabbing a bun and shoving the entire thing in her mouth. She licked the sticky icing from her thick fingers.
“You and Cass will head to August Lambros’s house while I have my meeting with Ronin at the Serpent’s Den,” Tristan answered, plucking up a glistening, fatty strip of meat. He dangled it above his face before lowering it into his open mouth. “By the end of the night we should finally have some answers about the Teles Chrysos, and hopefully a name to give to my brother.”
Cassandra picked up a bunch of grapes and popped them in her mouth one by one. An itch suddenly flared to life between her shoulder blades. She squirmed, unable to reach it, subtly scratching her back against her chair.
“What will you be doing for the rest of the day?” she asked Tristan.
He squeezed her thigh. “As much as I would love to spend it with you, I have more meetings to attend at the Secretariat. There was another attack in August’s district yesterday, this one on the offices of a prominent Fae trade organization. He’s fuming. Forced the Vicereine to call a special session to deal with it.”
Cassandra perked up. “You’re not going to reveal the name of the organization, are you?”
“Not yet,” Tristan said. “We’ll see how the meeting goes. I don’t want to scare off Ronin, cause him to rescind my invite to the pleasure house tonight.”
She smacked his chest. “You’d better behave yourself, Birdman. No sampling the merchandise while you’re there.”
Tristan grabbed her hand, tracing the letter M across her palm.
