Page 110 of The Rogue's Curse

“No?”

“After what I just drank, you don’t want to kiss me,” Misha said.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t want to kiss you,” Paris said. As tempting as it was to tease, he lightly turned Misha’s face and kissed his cheeks lightly. “That’s one proper kiss you owe me tomorrow.”

“With interest?”

“With absolutely criminal interest,” he said. “Be safe.”

It was tempting to drag Misha back to the infirmary, where he could keep an eye on both of his compromised little ducklings. But he took the responsibility of turning Danielle quite seriously. Julian had been his Maker, and had set lofty expectations. Julian had taken care of Paris like he was a precious firstborn son, and they had celebrated his first drink with a party attended by the entire court. It broke Paris’s heart to think of how some of his family had been turned; Nikko by accident, left to fend for himself alone as his body destroyed and remade itself. And even Kristina had his sympathy, turned against her will by Carrigan Shea, who had reveled in her suffering.

When he returned to the infirmary, he found Olivia standing outside the restroom. Water pattered inside, and before he could ask, Olivia smiled and said, “She’s showering. She’s very concerned about the cuddling and smelling bad.”

He chuckled. “I was teasing. I’ll hold her to ease the transition. That’s all.”

Olivia nodded. Her brow furrowed. “You’re going to take good care of her, right?”

“I will,” he said. There was a hint of suspicion in her voice, but he knew Olivia well enough not to take it personally. “I’ve grown to like your sister very much, and I will do whatever I can to make this easy for her. I promise.”

A pleasant cloud of floral soap buffeted him as Danielle emerged from the bathroom with her hair damp and face pleasantly flushed. She beamed at him. “Hi again,” she said, still sounding a bit punch-drunk.

He took her hand. “Hello, mon chou.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, letting him lead her back into the room.

“My little cabbage,” he said.

“That’s insulting,” she complained.

“It’s a term of endearment in France,” he said. “Are you insulting my culture?”

“Yes,” she said flatly.

“Mm, too bad, my sweet little cabbage,” he said. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand so she could climb in. “I’m going to stay with you and let you sleep. If you’d like me to wait, I’ll sit, or I can lie down with you.”

Her playful expression faltered. “Would it be weird if I said I wanted you to lay with me?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I even bathed for you.”

She laughed, and he closed the door before nudging off his shoes and climbing into bed with her. “This doesn’t bother Misha?”

“Assuming you don’t climb on my cock in your sleep, there’s nothing to bother him,” he said wryly.

“Paris!” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think of you like that. I mean, you’re hot, but you’re my friend. That’s it.” Then her eyes went wide. “No offense.”

“None taken, mon chou, even if your taste is questionable,” he said gently. He settled into bed, sitting up with a pillow nestled behind his back. He’d planned ahead, programming an alarm into his phone and connecting earbuds to jolt him with noise to keep from waking Danielle. He laid another pillow in his lap, then smiled as Danielle curled up next to him and laid her head in his lap.

He gently combed through her damp hair with his fingers, and she let out a soft, happy sigh. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she said. With her face nearly buried in the pillow, she said, “Do you think I’ll ever find someone who loves me like Nikko loves Olivia?”

His heart felt as if it had been wrung out. “I know you will,” he said. “You are a gem, Danielle.”

The bond of blood was already thrumming between them, and he felt the vaguest tug of her emotions. “I hope so,” she said.

“And now you have my blood in your veins. You’ll be irresistible,” he teased. “The pheromones alone will make you a biological weapon.”

She laughed, shook her head, and nuzzled into the pillow. Within minutes, she was asleep. His amusement at Danielle faded into worry. He feared for Misha, feared for all of them. On their last blitz attack, he hadn’t cared if he made it out. His hope for redemption from his curse was barely a ghost, and going down saving his court from Carrigan Shea would have been a proper hero’s death.

But now…

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