She shakes her head, but her comfortable stare remains fixed on the fireplace. “You?”
“I haven’t even tried. Besides, I’d much rather spend the night sitting here with you, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d love the company.”
“Good to know, because the company loves you.” I run my thumb up and down the side of her neck. “You know, I was thinking—”
“Jude Hendrix,thinking?” She finally tears her gaze away from the flames and looks at me, brow crinkling as she presses a hand to my forehead like she’s checking for fever. “Do you need medical attention? Should I see if we can scrounge up a fae healer?”
“You aresodamn cute when you’re trying to be funny. You know that, right?” I flick the tip of her nose and laugh, but it’s not long before the weight of everything chases off the levity.
Here in the looming shadow of our stone brother, it’s hard to hold on to laughter.
“The last thing I want is to sleep,” she says. “Rook… He needs me. Don’t ask me to explain it.”
“No need. I get it. And you’re right—he does need you.” I shift to the end of the couch, then pull her feet into my lap. “How about I just help you relax, then? No sleeping required.”
“You? Help me ‘relax?’” She makes air quotes around the word, the tiniest smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Is this a trap? It feels like a trap.”
“When have I ever laid a trap for you that you haven’t happily waltzed right into?”
“Fair point.”
“But no, this is not a trap. I’ll have you know I’mverygood at relaxation techniques. Certain ones, anyways. You don’t know what you’re missing, scarecrow.”
“Oh, I’ll bet.” She nudges my thigh with her foot. “Does that line actually work?”
“Hmm.” I remove her baggy wool socks, then press my thumbs into her bare arches, massaging them with deep, slow circles. “You tell me.”
“Oh, damn. That feels…” A blissful sigh escapes her lips. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it. Maybe youdohave some secret relaxation skills that even a cranky, overtired, dark-fae witch freakshow can’t resist.”
“No, you can’t, my little freakshow. So you might as well lie back, close your eyes, and let your man Jude take care of you.” I press a thumb into her foot again, squeezing her heel with my other hand.
She moans in pleasure, but she’s not lying back like I told her to. Not closing her eyes. Not relaxing in the slightest.
Propped up on her elbows, she’s glaring at me like she’s about to unleash some new brand of hell.
“What is it, darling? You can’t possibly tell me this doesn’t feel good.”
“It feels amazing.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is…” She rolls her eyes. “Do I really need to spell it out?”
“Apparently. I’d blame the witchweed, scarecrow, but your very presence muddies my mind on the best of days, so—”
“Ugh. Fine. I don’t really want you to rub my feet, Jude. Is that clear enough?”
“Oh. Well, how about a shoulder massage, then?”
She bites her lip in sheer frustration—fucking adorable—and shakes her head.
“Neck? Scalp? I don’t know… Elbows?” I laugh. “Throw me a bone here, darling. If I start naming other body parts, I’ll have no choice but to remove your clothing, and then we’re—”
“Yes,” she says firmly, sitting up so her knees are brushing my thighs, her lips close enough to kiss.
“Yes, what?” I whisper, threading a hand into her hair and dropping my gaze to that soft, lush mouth.
