Page 39 of Blood Sweeter than Honey

“We could thumb wrestle for it.”

My gaze slides back to his as surprised laughter bubbles out of me, and a moment passes where we share an appreciative grin.

“You’re on, cowboy.”

Our heated moment is broken by the sound of Trigger politely clawing at the back door. Gideon gets up to let him in, and Trigger comes bounding into the living room, body swaying as he whines and begs me for pets like he hasn’t seen me in months. Yet another thing that makes my heart give lovesick thumps.

Divine fuck, how is that between these two, in barely any time at all, I feel more at home here than I ever have anywhere else?

My gut gives an internal twist at the reminder that in only a month or two, I’ll need to feed.Regularly.Maybe I can sneak off into the woods and find a rabbit, and pray toAkashit will suffice. That thought makes me feel even worse. Even if I only need a few sips, I can’t imagine bringing anyone or anything harm.

How cruel is fate that I might have found the place where I feel most at home in a place where it might eventually kill me to stay?

Gideon returns to his seat on the bed beside me as I continue to shower a gradually calming Trigger with my affection. He begins to paw at the bed, a request for permission. Gideon immediately makes an admonishing noise that shuts him down.

My eyes narrow at him. “Mean Daddy.”

Gideon’s gaze darkens as it returns to mine, and his voice takes on a notably huskier tone before clearing his throat.

“He knows better.”

GIDEON

What an idiotic idea.My dick is already thick and heavy with want for this woman. The moment she touches me, I’m done for. Thank fuck I had the foresight to wear underwear—I normally don’t underneath pajamas. Not that it does much to hide my dick, but at least it’ll do something to prevent it from poking her eye out.

I should have worn two pairs.

Despite the hazards of my foolish plan, there’s a bubbly excitement in my chest I don’t think I’ve felt in…ever.And from the sweet smile on Winnow’s beautiful face, she feels it too as she turns toward me, shifting her legs under her and sitting back on her heels.

I twist to face her, the lopsided grin on my face irrepressible.

“They do a lot of thumb wrestling in Europe?”

She giggles. The sight and sound of which is an absolute balm to my soul, especially after our earlier discussion on our traumatizing pasts. Part of me is still angry at myself for prying and dredging up memories she clearly wanted to forget.

“We call it athumb duel, but yes.”

A thumb duel.A full belly laugh takes over me.

“Jesus. Sounds medieval. I think I’d like to visit this place. Caerwynath, you said?”

I’m sure I’ve pronounced it wrong, but she graciously nods as her laughter slows, crystalline gaze holding mine. “Yes, sir.”

Fuck me.Did I say she’d have to touch me? Because clearly, I spoke too soon. I’ve heard her call Harlan sir a few times, and even though he’s a sheriff and someone who’s earned her respect, it always made a trickle of my possessiveness rise. And the few times she’s called me sir, again, out of nothing but simple respect, I’d managed to avert my thoughts.

Addressing someone as sir or ma’am is a common form of address here, and not merely one of respect, but can also be an endearment. At least, that’s what I remind myself every time she says it to me, but my darker sexual predilections are having a hard time accepting that reasoning when she’s sitting only inches away, looking up at me with those big blues, braless, and dressed only in a pair of my boxer briefs.

That thread between us seems to pull impossibly tight, and I don’t miss the way she squirms and tugs on her plump bottom lip.

“Don’t get nervous on me now, sweetheart.”

Winnow’s cheeks heat, and my cock is already a thick bar draped over my hip.Please, don’t look down.

Winnow offers her hand. Her tone belies what her words don’t say. “Am not.”

The moment my fingers hook around hers, electricity zings through me. “Ready?”

Why is my heart pounding like I’m crossing enemy borders?

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