Page 110 of Taste of Thorns
“I thought you felt sick,” I tease him, noticing the way the towel wrapped around his waist has tented.
“Yeah, but I think this could be the perfect cure.”
He pulls the two of us to stand, but then he stumbles, swaying on his feet.
“Uh uh,” I say, pushing him down to sit on the stairs. “You stay here. I’m going to get the others so they can check you over.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“You nearly fell over. There is no way you’re in a fit state for anything more than to sit.”
“Fine by me,” he smirks. “I’ll sit. You come ride my cock.”
As tempting as that may sound, what with the man half-naked, his hair all tousled and messed up, I don’t think it’s in his best interests.
“Stay there!” I command, pointing a finger at him.
“I like it when you’re all bossy like this, sweetheart.”
“Then do as you’re told.”
“You mean like you’re always doing.”
Before he can grab me again, I race up the stairs and find Dray still lazing about in my bed.
“Beaufort just had a vision!” I say, attempting to catch my breath. “He hit his head. Come quick and check he’s okay.”
Dray lifts his head and peers at me blearily.
“Slow down, Kitten. It’s too early in the morning for words that quick.”
“You need to come with me now.” He blows a tuft of platinum hair from his face, considers me, then crawls out of bed, dropping down on bare feet and stretching his arms above his head. He’s once again completely naked and I gather this is the way he prefers to be.
“This is cruel, Kitten,” he mutters. “It’s Sunday. No lessons.”
But I give him a stern look and beckon him to follow me back down the stairs; stairs I find are empty.
“Where did he go?” I mutter.
“In here,” Beaufort calls from his study. We find him sitting behind his desk, a packet of ice pressed to the back of his head.
“What’s up?” Dray says, yawning and rubbing his hand across his chest.
“I had a vision,” Beaufort tells him.
“He had a really violent vision, and he fell down and hit his head. You need to check he’s okay.”
“You don’t,” Beaufort says.
Dray shrugs his shoulders and looks at me. “He says I don’t need to.”
“You do.”
“Couldn’t you do it, Kitten?”
“I’m not a healer. You are. He could have a concussion. We should probably take him to the clinic.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the clinic.”
