Page 20 of Bound
My teeth close over the fruit. His eyes spark. And so it continues.
He feeds me one bite at a time, the keen watchfulness of his eyes stripping me down to something revered. Cared for. His attention is warmth embodied, and I find myself cradled in it. As he cradled me against him earlier.
There is an odd shift in our dynamic. I am no longer a Lady of the Court, but a woman with a man. A strong, dominant man.
Only once I have cleared everything from my plate, does he reach for his own nourishment. From under my lashes, I watch him devour his meal and half the carafe of coffee that never gets cold as he warms it with his fire.
After we have taken our fill, he slides the trays away and refills my glass before focusing on my face. “I need to ask you a few questions, Amoret.”
I grip the cool crystal in both hands. “All right.”
He climbs from his seat across from me and moves around the table until he is at my side. “Is there anyone who would want to hurt your brother? Or any of the Lords?”
The food we ate turns to a lead weight in my stomach. “No. No one,” I respond dully. “We are in a human city, Gage. Those with us are firm allies and friends. Any enemies would be home, at the Sith.”
His lips turn down. “Are there enemies, Amoret?”
“I—” I fall silent and try to think through that. “Cusnu is wilder than the others. He has had affairs with many of the ladies of the court. Renvi … He does not have many enemies that I can recall. And Branwen …” My voice cracks.
Gage slips his hand into mine. “Would anyone want to hurt Branwen?”
Jerking back, I glare. “Branwen is as fair as a Fae Lord can be,” I tell him. “Everyone adores him. He has had no affairs, he is high in the Consul’s graces, and many would see him take the throne in the white tower.”
His emerald eyes are darker now, pitch in the soft, natural lighting. “I am not disputing your brother’s honor, Amoret. But, to find him, I have to look at this from every angle.”
Some of my temper depletes as fast as it came. I sag in my chair, dropping my head into my hands as tears blur my vision. “Why were they taken, Gage? I don’t understand this.” A soft sob racks me. “I just don’t understand.”
His hands grip me and haul me against the strong swell of his body to place me in his muscular lap. One calloused palm flows over my plait, but my despair mutes the sensation. Drowns it under grief.
I fist my hands into the tunic covering him and cry until the world seems to break and turn gray.
Or maybe it’s my heart.
