Page 171 of The Call of Crimson
“And how is that?”
“You smell of honeysuckle, Prince.”
“Oh, do I?” I can hear the smirk I know is covering Ayden’s lips.
“She may be sleeping in your bed, Ayden,” Aurelius drawls, his tone taunting. “But only one of us knows what she tastes like.”
The familiar sound of bone meeting flesh rings out, followed by a grunt from Aurelius.
He hit him.
Rage boils through my veins at the thought of Ayden punching Aurelius.
A hysterical laugh bursts from Aurelius. “What’s it like to be on the other end of someone getting under your skin, brother? Can’t handle a little of your own tactics turned against you?”
“I’ll see you in the council meeting, Aurelius,” Ayden seethes.
The sound of both males’ footsteps slowly fades as they leave the kitchen. I wait several minutes before slipping out of the pantry, shadows clinging to me like smoke.
I enter the council room ten minutes later, last to arrive. Everyone else is already present and seated. Darian sits to Ayden’s left, glaring daggers at me the moment I take my seat to Ayden’s right.
“Did you get lost,General?” Darian sneers.
“I apologize for my tardiness. I was hungry,” I say, keeping my voice even.
“Then perhaps you should eat the apple in your hand,” Aurelius says casually from down the table.
Charlie sits beside him, her arm brushing his on the table and making my stomach turn sour. I drag my gaze away, sweeping down the rest of Ayden’s council.
Three other males occupy the chairs on my side of the table. One is older—his hair more grey than not, and wrinkles creasing his eyes and corners of his mouth. The other two look as if they could be related with their blond hair and moss-green eyes. Another female occupies the last chair. If I were to guess, I would say she’s in her middle years. Not young, but not exactly old.
I bite into the apple, savoring the crisp, tangy taste that coats my tongue.
Wait.
This variety of apple isn’t tangy—it’s always sweet.
Realization hits me, and I choke on the juice. Coughing into my hand, I avoid making eye contact with anyone at the table as my face burns.
He bit into the apple before handing it to me. His mouth had been covered in my arousal. I was tasting myself on the apple.
Ignoring the quizzical looks, I force myself to chew and swallow.
Another bite.
I take another bite, bracing for the slightly off-taste this time.
“The attacks are growing more frequent,” Darian begins, thankfully drawing the room’s attention away from me.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Aurelius and the barely-there, insufferably smug smirk that plays at the corner of his lips.
I finish the apple, bite by devious bite, until all that remains is the core, as Darian details the attacks Prudia has suffered over the last month.
“Are they using the poison each time?” one of the blonds, Lord Talon, asks.
“No,” Darian answers. “They’ve only been using it roughly one attack out of every four.”
“What are the casualties like?” Charlie asks.
