Page 76
Yure flicked another report open. “And while we’re doing that, emergency admissions in the lower districts doubled overnight. Overdoses. Same compounds Attica’s been pushing.”
“So they hand us Attica with one hand,” Cyprian said, “while doing what with the other?”
Yure leaned back in his chair. “That’s the problem. I don’t know yet. But whatever they wanted from last night, they got it.”
Moargan set his coffee down. “A warning.”
Cyprian’s gaze stayed on the table. “Or a delay.”
“Or both.”
Moargan looked between Daven and Ryneth, his gaze dropping to where Daven’s hand still rested too close to him. “Well. That’s cheerful enough for breakfast. How’s that going?”
Ryneth stiffened beside him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Daven smirked and reached for another tigano. “It means my cousin doesn’t know how to mind his own business.”
“It means,” Moargan said, not looking remotely sorry, “you two walked in here looking like you barely made it out of bed.”
Aviel choked on his coffee.
Daven grinned. “We didn’t.”
Ryneth shot him a murderous look.
Moargan’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “Right. Then keep your man close.” His tone shifted a little as he pushed off the counter. “And you may want to consider making a public statement.”
Ryneth blinked. “A public statement?”
Moargan lifted one shoulder. “Something official.”
Cyprian didn’t even look up from his sketch. “Ignore him. It’s what I do most of the time.”
Moargan smiled into his coffee. “I’m not ignorable, lover. Besides, I’m just observing.”
Ryneth looked between them. “Observing what?”
Moargan took a slow sip of his coffee. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Helianth groaned. “He means he’s bored and wants drama.”
Perhaps. But… a public statement. Daven hadn’t thought of that until now, and the realization made his stomach tighten as his skin gave a low hum. Milanov had given Ryneth to him, but would he also agree with Daven claiming him for the world to see?
Next to him, Ryneth was playing with his food, clearly caught up in whatever thought was haunting him now.
Good Light, the idea of claiming him in front of everyone, of making it clear exactly who Ryneth belonged to, made something settle deep in Daven’s core.
He’d played with both men and women. Fucked everyone who’d so much as looked at him. Never wanted anything that lasted.
But with Ryneth, possession felt easy. It felt natural. Like it had always been waiting for him.
Across from him, Cyprian set his charcoal aside. “Why don’t you come over to Archer’s sometime soon? Get to know some more people that are not associated with this…house.”
“This house? You’re talking of the Imperial mansion,” Moargan grumbled. “Your home.”
Cyprian didn’t blink. “Exactly. That’s why.” He turned his attention back to Ryneth. “Please? Archer makes the best tiganos you’ll ever taste. No offence, Aviel.”
Aviel let out a loud snort from behind the stove. “Offense absolutely taken.”
