Page 71 of The Captive's Curse
Enzo shrugged in a way perfectly calculated to infuriate Bruno even more. “You refused to pay, so I’m not sure you can claim any extortion occurred,” he said blandly. “Instead, Lord Graf paid. And I feel inclined to keep his gold, to be honest with you.”
“How dare you,” Bruno hissed, and I winced. Fuck, I sounded just like him when I said that, didn’t I? Ugh. “I’m Lord Montefime, and what I say goes!”
Oh, for goodness’s sake, it wasn’t like he could get any angrier. And I could hide behind Enzo. Or behind Ser Cassian, for that matter.
“A rightful lord’s always right in his own castle, though, isn’t he, Bruno?” I said sweetly. “Isn’t that what Mama alwayssays when you’re acting like an asshole? And this isn’t your castle. It’s Enzo’s. Which means he’s right on this occasion.”
As Bruno sucked in a deep, heaving lungful of air, obviously preparatory to screaming at me, his face turning a deeply satisfying shade of purple, I realized abruptly that I’d had enough. More than enough. An absolute excess of enough. A quiet interlude in bed with Enzo—well, quiet until I started moaning, anyway—and a quick bath and a change of clothes borrowed from Leander had restored me somewhat.
But…I didn’t need to be here. Enzo and Bruno and Hans and Ser Cassian could sort out all of the queen’s chancellor’s commands and Rabbion’s laws of inheritance without the slightest assistance from me.
“Excuse me,” I said into the fraught silence before the resurging storm that was my asshole brother. “I’m going to go and have something to eat.”
And with that, I spun on my heel and sauntered away, leaving them all arguing behind me. I found Beatrice in the kitchen, with a still-terrified Benito hiding in her skirts as she tried to get everything in order after the depredations of Hans’s men, and the rest of the servants bustling about, making everything cheerful again.
Beatrice kissed me on the cheek, and Benito shyly slipped his hand into mine and gave me a squeeze, and the last of my worries vanished.
I didn’t have my lute, but I sang for them, and they fed me, and the weighty questions of politics and spies and who’d send whom to the gallows were presumably resolved—somewhere else, thank the gods. I spent the rest of that day hiding in the kitchen.
But later that evening, when Bruno calmed down enough to tell me that our mother was on her way back and that she wanted to see me, I rode out with him to go home for a few days.Besides seeing my mother, I needed to fetch my lute and pack a few other things before I returned to Enzo’s castle for a more extended stay.
My mother had been at Montefime already when we arrived, and for the first few hours, I’d been happy to see her. She’d embraced me, she’d even wept a few tears into my hair while she did so, and she’d shown to my satisfaction that she did indeed give a damn if I lived or died.
And then she’d begun to interrogate me about Enzo, lament Hans’s perfidy, and attempt to enlist me in her plans to help Bruno woo Rivina.
In short, it’d been three endless days at Montefime, and I’d half expected—and desperately hoped—Enzo would appear and take me away again.
But he hadn’t.
I’d sent my things on ahead with one of his men, and then set out on my own on Agnethe, with only my lute and a flask of wine for the ride.
And now, I’d finished the wine and my little bundle of snacks, and Agnethe seemed inclined to stop and graze, and I absolutely could not find the turn for the path that led up the final hill to the castle, because stupid Enzo hadn’t bothered to come to Montefime and fetch me.
Men. Ugh. He’d delayed my departure the other day by pulling me into an alcove and kissing me frantically, in between whispering how much he adored me.
Well, not enough to ride down to Montefime, apparently.
Maybe he’d changed his mind.
Maybe he’d forgotten all about me.
Agnethe stopped again, wandering to the side of the road where she’d spotted a particularly luscious clump of fresh grass.
Fuck it. Not like I was making any progress finding my way in any case. I sat moodily on her back and let her eat, wishing I hadn’t finished all my wine.
“What the hell does a man have to do to get kidnapped around here?” I asked her. “I’m alone, I’m unarmed, I’m helpless, and I’m obviously valuable. Except I’m clearly not, because no one’s bothering to abduct me.”
“I recently retired from the highway robbery and hostage-taking business,” said a deep, laughing voice. “But you’re right. I ought to make an exception for someone as alone, helpless, unarmed, and obviously valuable as you.”
Startled, I spun in the saddle, and Agnethe whickered and tossed her head and sidled, and I went tilting over…and Enzo jogged over and caught me, pulling me off so that I tumbled into his arms, and into his kiss.
He ravaged my mouth until my knees gave out, but it didn’t matter, because…no, I wasn’t even standing up anymore, but being carried away. And then lowered down onto the ground, Enzo’s weight on me, between my legs, his hand wrapped in my hair and tugging my head back so that he could suck bruising kisses into the line of my throat.
Damp grass would stain my straw-colored trousers, but…Enzo bit down on a nipple through my thin linen shirt, and fuck my trousers, anyway. As if they’d survive whatever else Enzo meant to do to me. Or the pressure of my erection, which seemed bent on tearing the front of them open to get to him.
…Or the slickness of my hole soaking them in back, my magic already preparing me for him to take me. Enzo had fucked me in the onion bed four days ago, much to my mingled dismay and delight, because my curse had been hovering by then.
But it might as well have been weeks, going by the sharp, clenching ache between my legs, the hammering of my heart and the way my cock throbbed.
