“Yes. Kind of.” I shifted in my seat. “It’s muted. An awareness that he’s close if I need him. The bond, um, can’t be undone.” At least, I didn’t think so.
His posture grew stiffer. “Throuples and threesomes aren’t my thing.”
“Nor are they mine.” Until Cyrus, I’d never really been part of a twosome. The thought of being so intimate and vulnerable with someone who could break and harm me had never appealed.
He inhaled deeply, nodded, and handed me a plate he’d set on the coffee table. I eased back on the couch, and he sat beside me with a plate of his own. Side by side, we each ate a sandwich layered with moist, shredded chicken, a creamy pepper-and-fruit spread, and melty cheeses. All the real deal, I’d bet, and none of the lab-grown “meat” and “dairy” ordinary folks were fed when we decided to splurge on something other than a tasteless meal bar made from mystery ingredients.
“How do you want to proceed?” I asked with the barest tremor.
“Give me time to think.”
We finished eating in silence. At any other time, I would’ve moaned over the sublime flavors exploding on my tongue. Tonight, every bite settled like a lead ball in my stomach.
When we finished, we set our plates aside, still silent. I understood his upset, I truly did. Like I’d told him, I’d be super upset if he connected to someone else. The question was, did he want to be with me enough to get past it?
Needing a connection withhim, I curled myself against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. He didn’t rebuke me but slowly wound an arm around my waist. Slow and distracted, he stroked his fingers along my side, pausing now and then to toy with the ends of my hair.
“It’s a complication,” he repeated as if the conversation had never paused, assuring me he’d considered nothing but my new relationship with Domino.
“Yes.” I offered no more, unwilling to pressure him.
“I don’t . . .” He sighed.
I gripped his shirt, crinkling the material between my fingers.Don’t throw me away when you need me most.
“Throw you away?” he fumed.
Oops. I’d spoken out loud.
He tightened his hold. “Arden, that isn’t what I’m considering.”
“Then what?”
“How best to proceed with you. Splitting up isn’t an option.”
Heat washed over me, and I melted, pouring myself over him. “That’s a good answer.”
“We should take this day by day and learn how the bond between you and the librarian works,” he said, and I nodded, eager. “While we do, we will remain together.”
“Yes, yes, forever yes.”
“As for today, I think I’d like to be wooed,” he said, and ran two knuckles along the underside of my chin.
A laugh burst from me, totally spontaneous and utterly unexpected, born from relief and affection. “Wooed? As in, courted?”
“Exactly.” He flashed a sly smile. “Give me a compliment.”
“You can’t just order someone to compliment you,” I replied, giggling.
“I can and I did,” he insisted, pretending to pout. “I want what I want, and I want it now.”
Snickering, I slid into his lap, straddling his thighs. “Do you hear yourself?”Tsk, tsk, tsk.“The great and powerful future king of Ourland justwhined.” Most people were too afraid of his position and cold, distant demeanor to risk speaking to him. Me? I lightly traced the length of his facial brand with a blunt-tipped nail.
“And yet you still deny him.” He gripped my backside and squeezed. Just like that, his amusement died, replaced by desperation. “Give me what I want, Pink.” He rasped the demand.
I—went—molten. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I wiggled closer and purred, “I won’t give you a compliment, sugar. I’ll give you many.”
His gaze remained on my mouth. “I’m listening.”
