Page 50 of Blood Sweeter than Honey

Or give into the ever intensifying impulse I have to introduce my throat to his cock.

Gideon, too, seems to be holding himself back as well, and admittedly, I’m mildly afraid to ask why.

And to make matters worse, I’m well aware that no amount of sandwich-making and pleasant company is going to be enough to prove my value to him, especially without him knowing about or, presumably, feeling the tether between us as intensely as I do.

Lorne’s words return to me again, making my gut churn.

““Your royal blood means nothing if that’s all you have to give. So what else do you have to offer me, girl? A pretty cunt?”

Gods damn it.

I refuse to let Lorne haunt me any longer.

And not merely because I yearn to give to Gideon in ways that have absolutely nothing to do with the lingering need to prove my worth. That need is overshadowed by somethingsomuch greater. I want to make Gideon happy. I want to show him, in every possible way I can, just how much I appreciate him. I want him tofeelmy gratitude for him. I want him to feel seen and supported in every way that I never have.

For days now, I’ve watched him rise before dawn, pouring every piece of himself into this land.

And now me.

But who pours into him?

Who fills the cup of a man who never stops giving?

It’s a plight I’m all too familiar with.

It’s only been a handful of days, but he’s mysoulbound—and I want to give him everything I am.

I just hope it’s enough to make him willing to bleed for me.

GIDEON

Urging Juniper into a gallop, Trigger and I leave Beau, Levi, and Gertie to their work.

Is it a little early to end the work day?

Yes.

Is it because of Winnow?

100%.

Do I feel a little guilty?

Absolutely, but not enough to stop me.

And it’s not merely because of sexual desire. If I’m entirely honest, I’m a little worried. Winnow’s in a strange place, alone, in my house while she endures some unknown upheaval, and fuck me, but I wanna take care of her. Every moment I’m away from her causes this fucking throbbing ache in my chest to steal my breath in a way that, if I didn’t take such meticulous care of my health, I might otherwise confuse for a fucking heart attack.

Being as self-aware as I am, I also recognize this is an unhealthy level of attachment, but it’s beyond fighting, and it just feels so fucking right. Like the stars have somehow aligned, or whatever sappy shit Beau might say.

By the time I reach the back porch, the weight of anticipation that’s been stifling my breath finally lifts from my chest. Triggerand I step through the back door into the mud room where I toe off my boots, and I can hear the melodic hum of Winnow’s voice in the kitchen, making my heart swell with an emotion that’s far too soon to give a name to, and it’s tinged with fear.

For the first time, it’s not fear of a woman turning toxic or cheating that haunts me. Looking back, I ignored countless red flags with Seraphine out of a deeply flawed loyalty, shaped by childhood scars that made me believe love had to be earned by fixing someone.

But Winnow doesn’t need fixing. Despite her trauma, she’s grounded, honest, and deeply appreciative. There are no red flags—only moments where she sees and values parts of me I’ve long overlooked.

So, the only fear Winnow inspires in me is that one day she’ll wanna leave, and I won’t always be able to come home to the sound of her humming strange yet hauntingly beautiful melodies I’ve never heard.

Simply being in her presence makes me feel alive, and as bizarre as it sounds, I feel like my strength, endurance, and energy have increased beyond what I would deem natural.

---