Page 167 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

She laughed because there was nothing else to do. She couldn’t believe the girl who had always been more into girls and half hated the idea of a guy coming in her was now coated in the stuff and contemplating when she could have it happen again. Asshole.

Graves pressed a kiss to her lips. “We need to clean up. We have company.”

“What?” Kierse asked.

But no matter how she tried to wheedle an answer out of him, he carried her into the shower and cleaned her off. He had her bent over the bench again, pumping into her until they both came hard and fast. A desperate second orgasm that he milked out of her with precision.

She toweled off and changed into a black tank and shorts. Graves claimed that he had one more thing to do in his office and then he’d meet her in the library. He offered forherto be the one more thing he had to do, and oh how the idea had been tempting. She pushed him toward his office and left him to his work. She was starving and…a little hungover. How potent had that old bottle of wine been? She’d definitely been buzzing, but now her head hurt. So, while she wanted to find out about their company, she needed food first.

Kierse stopped in the kitchen to find Isolde with a spread already laid out. “I see you’re enjoying cooking for more people.”

Isolde brightened. “We’re like a bed and breakfast.”

Kierse laughed at that assessment. “Don’t tell Graves.”

“Never,” Isolde said conspiratorially. “We don’t want to disrupt him.”

Isolde hummed happily as she kneaded dough for a cinnamon babka. She was trying to match the recipe to the one Kierse loved from her favorite bakery.

“You were famished,” Isolde said when she downed a whole plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes and went in for a second.

“Hangover,” she told her with a yawn.

“Ah, take some of the biscuits to go with you. Gen really likes them.”

“Everyone likes your cookies,” Kierse said.

Isolde straightened at the word. “We’ll have you using the proper words eventually.”

Kierse laughed as she grabbed the tray and took it upstairs and into the library.

When she pushed inside, she’d honestly been expecting Graves’s mentor, Kingston. Graves didn’t have many other friends in his line of work. Just a long list of enemies, broken hearts, and staff. Kingston was the closest thing he had to a friend, but they hadn’t heard from him again since the ominous roses when they’d first returned to the city. And he wasn’t here today, either.

“Walter Rodriguez,” Kierse said.

Graves’s old apprentice was seated cross-legged on the couch, a laptop open on his knees. Gen sat next tohim, stroking Anne’s head. Anne hissed at Kierse as she approached and trotted off into the stacks. One day that cat was going to like her. She swore she was.

“’Sup,” Walter said, pressing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose as he buried his head back in the computer. He wore a gray T-shirt with a comic book character Kierse didn’t recognize on it, black jeans, and black high-top sneakers.

“Surprised to see you here.”

Walter shrugged. “No one more than me.”

She set the tray down on the table and put a hand on her forehead as she dropped into a chair. She grimaced at the decoy box in front of her, which she was still having trouble with.

“You woke up late,” Gen said.

“Late night,” Kierse said.Lots of sex. “And a hangover. Do you think you could…?” Kierse gestured to her head.

Gen snorted. “You earned that hangover. You can live with a rough morning.”

“I had a rough night.” She winked at Gen, who blushed.

“I bet,” Gen said with an eye roll.

“What aboutyou? Did you and Ronan do the dirty?”

Gen flushed. “No!” Then glanced sideways at Walter and back. “But we did hook up.”

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