Page 211 of Reign

I place the berries on her tongue and withdraw the fork slowly.

I watch her lips close around it because I want to. There are benefits to being the one holding the fork.

She chews, still irritated, but the taste softens her face. Barely. Around her eyes first, then her shoulders. She likes this strange little breakfast. The cold fruit. The coconut water. The exact routine of it.

My thumb moves against her waist.

Slowly.

Absently.

I don’t realize I’m doing it until I feel the soft fabric beneath my hand and the easy rhythm of touching her like she belongs here.

She doesn’t move away.

I give her another bite. She takes it without being told.

That’s better.

I tap the notepad with my knuckles while she chews. “I made the list.”

Her head snaps toward me.

Finally.

She truly looks at me.

Her eyes meet mine so quickly that my hand tightens on her waist before I can stop it.

“You made the list?”

“Yes.”

“The list?”

“The list.”

Her body changes on my lap. She goes still in a way that has nothing to do with obedience.

I spear another berry because my hands need something to do. “I have names. We’ll continue training first, then I’ll set up meetings when I’m satisfied you understand what you need and how to communicate it clearly.”

The words come out calm. Reasonable and practical. Everything they should be.

I hate every single one.

Elena looks at the notepad, then back at me. “How many names?”

“Seven.”

“Seven,” she repeats.

“Yes.”

Her mouth presses together.

I feel her thinking. It’s in the tension of her spine, the way she’s suddenly careful with her weight on my thigh, the way her hands fold tighter in her lap.

I don’t like that.