Page 39 of Given

“It was a dream,” I said quickly, before he called for guards. “I’ve had it since I was a child.” The details rushed back, the memory of the man’s gaping, bloody mouth making me shudder. “This time was different, though. He s-spoke to me…or at least I think he did. His lips moved but it was like someone else was speaking. It was the same voice I heard at the—” I cut myself off. Maybe it was best to keep my experience at the Rift to myself.

But Varick wasn’t having it. “The same voice you heard where?”

“I…”

He tightened his grip. “Answer me.”

Words stuck in my throat. With a snarl, he twisted my wrist. Pain streaked up my arm, and I cried out.

“Varick,” Laurent said softly.

Silent communication passed between the men. Varick released me, but he didn’t look thrilled about it. I tugged my bloody nightdress down my thighs. His golden gaze tracked my movements, reminding me he’d just watched me fly apart from the combination of his blood and Laurent’s fingers. That they’d done it together made the whole thing more shockingly intimate.

And now that my senses had returned, it was obvious they’d come to my bed directly from the one they shared. Laurent’s dark hair was tousled, and he wore a dressing gown loosely belted at his waist. He was clearly nude beneath it, his smooth chest visible between the deep V of black satin embroidered with night-blooming roses. Varick’s sole piece of clothing was a pair of leather pants. The laces had been ripped and clumsily retied. A prominent erection threatened to rip them open again. It was an inconvenient side effect of feeding me. It didn’t mean anything. But it startled me nevertheless. He was so controlled in everything else. It was a shock to learn he couldn’t control this.

I jerked my gaze away, but not before I heard his sharp intake of breath. Anger rolled off him in an icy blast. It was all I could do not to shiver.

“With your leave, Your Grace,” he said stiffly.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Laurent incline his head.

A gust of air was my only warning that Varick had left. One second, he sat on my bed, and the next he was gone. The door clicked shut, and I stared at it in disbelief. “I had no idea he could move that fast.” He could sneak up on anyone. Slit their throat before they even knew what hit them.

Laurent’s tone was light. “When he wants to, yes.”

Well, he’d wanted to. “He doesn’t like me.”

Humor glimmered in Laurent’s eyes. “He likes you too much.”

“I… You mean…” I trailed off as his meaning sank in. Laurent’s attraction to me was unmistakable. But the general had been nothing but hostile. Now Laurent expected me to believe Varick’s physical response was more than just a reaction to sharing his blood?

Laurent’s expression turned contemplative, as if he was trying to decide how much to say. “Varick has a complicated relationship with women.”

“But he…likes them?”

“He does.” He picked up my hand and brushed my knuckles back and forth across his lips. A new kind of shiver scrabbled through me. There was no question he liked women. His silver gaze held mine over the back of my hand. “He likes them when I’m involved.”

Such a simple statement, but it conjured all sorts of images. Like their hard, muscular bodies tangled together in a rumpled bed. In an instant, the image in my head changed, inserting me between them. Because that was what Laurent was saying. Varick slept with the king…and he slept with women with the king. Together. It was the kind of gossip Lidia’s ladies would kill for, only it wasn’t gossip right now. It was reality as the king himself teased my knuckles with his sensual mouth that did strange, fluttery things to my stomach.

“Your Grace…” I began.

“I told you to call me Laurent when we’re alone. Keep disobeying me, Princess, and I’ll have to punish you.” He rose and gestured at me. “Stand up.”

My gut clenched. “Wh-Why?” Was he going to punish me right now?

“You’re covered in blood.” He went to a wardrobe and returned with a clean nightdress and a bundle of bed linens. He dumped everything on the bed, then fetched a wet cloth from the washstand. My eyes widened as he came to me, grasped my chin in strong fingers, and cleaned the blood from my face.

Surprise kept me rooted to the floor. Cold water dripped down my throat, making my nipples pucker. The material was so thin it was almost see-through. There was no way he wouldn’t notice.

He finished his work and released me, and judging from the glint in his eyes, he’d definitely noticed. “You’re chilled. Change your gown while I build up the fire.”

I waited until his back was turned before scrambling into the clean nightdress. He’d stroked me to an orgasm and now he was performing domestic chores. I wasn’t sure what to expect from him next.

He threw more wood on the fire, and then crouched before it with a poker. The muscles in his back rippled as he stoked the flames as efficiently as any servant. The flames danced higher, picking out blue lights in his black hair. He was no less regal kneeling before the hearth in his dressing gown. Even in this humble position, power clung to him.

After a second, I realized I was staring. With nothing else to do, I started stripping the bed. He joined me a moment later, snapping out the new sheets and tucking them under the mattress.

He raised a brow at me from the other side of the bed. “Something wrong?”

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