Page 49 of Blood and Trouble

“You want to talk about it?” He pushed up on an elbow and rolled to his side.

I paused, unsure if I wanted to deep-dive into whatever that was. Besides, it was late, and he was exhausted. He needed to rest.

“No, go back to sleep. It’s okay.”

Is it?

He seemed like he was going to say more or maybe argue, but he lay back down. “I’m here if you need me.”

I swung my feet off the mattress and balanced my elbows on my legs, running my hands back through my hair. Why was I dreaming about a lover I never had and a witch I’d never met?

And snow. A bloody patch of snow.

I took a drink of water, hoping it would soothe the ache in my chest, and set the glass down before I spilled any with my shaking hands.

Everyone knew what they’d found that winter. It had been in the papers, in the depositions, in every conversation about my mother for twenty years. Of course my brain had dredged it up. A vampire had invoked my mother not that long ago.

It’s just the stress. The transition, my work, my drunken wedding…Poe.

It’s nothing.

Nothing at all.

CHAPTER 10

Ava

I had a plan. Undoubtedly, it was a stupid plan, but one I became dedicated to, nonetheless. I thought, perhaps naively, that if I slotted myself next to Lycan, if I made it apparent how desirable he was, Poe would crack, and Lycan would fold, and I could fade into the background.

It would have been easy, had it not been for the way Lycan and I so seamlessly melded together. He liked to dominate, and I liked to be dominated, and where did that leave Poe? Moreover, when I got Lycan and Poe back together, where did that leave me?

Underneath the plan was one glaring complication: I wanted to be wanted. Perhaps a small, shameful part of me wanted that from Lycan.

But once I had my mind set on something, I so rarely let anything derail me.

This is how you fix it. This is how you make yourself valuable.

Each morning, Poe woke up early to work out and run before returning to the hotel to make breakfast. I, too, was an early riser, so a few days after that first scene, I climbed out from under Lycan’s massive arm when I heard Poe return from his run. My husband stretched and whined at the loss but fell back asleep easily.

I wrapped a silk robe around my nightie and walked into the kitchen, where Poe stood shirtless, dripping in sweat, holding a bottle to his mouth while he chugged water. The thick muscles of his throat worked as he swallowed, his chiseled abs on reckless display. And his scent…it radiated off him in decadent waves, all male pheromones and pine and sea salt.

I stared, swallowing the smell, relishing the hint of his taste on my mouth. I wanted to lick up his torso and sink my teeth into his neck. A throb hit me between the legs, and I clenched my thighs to soothe it, trying to ignore it.

I already had a twisted relationship with Lycan. I didn’t need to screw it all up with Poe.

“Morning,” he said, breaking my trance.

Damn it.

He’d caught me gawking at him like a creep.

My cheeks burned as I walked to the coffee maker next to the sink. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

He hummed and nodded. “You?”

“Fine,” I said. “Lycan’s a bed hog.”

Poe laughed and opened the fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs, spinach, mushrooms, and toast. He went after the butter next, followed by jelly and sliced ham.