Page 46 of The Wicker King

“Yeah, I did … Are you going to start dating her?”

August shrugged. “If that’s what she wants.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Is that what you want?” August shot back, laughing under his breath while he continued icing cupcakes. He’d been kidding—he hadn’t noticed Jack flinch like he’d been slapped. His back to his king, broad and vulnerable.

“Do what you want. You know who you belong to.” If the look on his face was anything to go by, Jack clearly regretted his words the moment they fell out of his mouth.

August put the spatula down and half turned to look at him. He smiled, always indulgent, even in the face of Jack’s petulance. “Yeah. I know.”

FAIR

They fell into each other.

Five months ago, he probably would have been too nervous and overthought the entire thing. But now, all August could think about was the red smeared across her mouth and the delicate curve of her neck. He didn’t have room for anything else.

Rina Medina, Queen of the Desert. Queen of the place between dishpan hands and Louboutins.

He fucked her hard.

She didn’t ask for more.

It was weird, but it made him want to give her things. It made him want to cover her in diamonds. It made him want to work until he could afford to put her in a palace. It made him want to steal her away like a priceless work of art. It made him want to be selfish.

He never wanted to leave this little shack she called a home.

LINEN

Rina lay next to him as he smoked and stared out the window. She drummed her fingers restlessly on his knee.

“Sometimes,” she said, “I get a craving for something. Something expensive or hard to find, like truffles. If I can’t get them, I try for the next best thing. M&M’S, Snickers. Whatever. But no matter how much I have, it doesn’t quite hit the spot…” She gazed over at him. “I don’t mind being that for you.”

“You’re not. I don’t know what you mean,” August replied. “I try not to crave things I can’t afford.”

“You are a world-class liar, August Bateman. Every inch of you craves things you can’t afford … or don’t feel like you’re allowed to have.”

“Why are you being so vague?” he said impatiently. “Just tell me what you want to tell me, Rina. If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

She looked at him like he was mind-numbingly stupid. “Can’t you see that’s what I’m trying to tell you? I don’t want anything from you. I never did. You were breaking his heart and the only thing that helped is watching you be happy. And I know that, and I’m okay with it. I’ve known it from the beginning. That’s the entire reason that you’re here.…”

August understood all those sentences separately, but they made no sense together.

“Why is this so confusing for you?” she asked. “What is wrong with you?”

Before he could answer, the doorknob rattled and turned, and the door swung open.

Jack stood there, filling up the doorway awkwardly. His eyes flicked over them, taking in Rina, who stared back at him boldly—nipples taut, hair loose and dark around her shoulders. He glanced for a second at the lighter in August’s hand. Jack looked exhausted and like he was an instant away from bolting.

“Shh. Come here,” August said quietly. Jack hesitated. “It’s okay.” August moved over and made space for him.

Jack glanced at Rina nervously as he crept into her bed, his sandy, cropped hair sticking up at odd angles. August took one last drag of his cigarette, then reached over Jack to put it out in the tray by the bed.

“Are you okay? Did anything happen?” Rina asked.

“No. I just…” Jack looked embarrassed. “My head hurts.”

“Do you want me to get some aspirin?” August started to get up, but Jack curled closer and closed his eyes.