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“Thank you, Isaac. You’re a wonderful cousin.”
Chapter Fourteen
When would he ever sleep again? Jay paced the space between his bed and the window, naked, the breeze drying the slick sweat on his body. He clawed at his skin before climbing back into his nightclothes. Nothing helped.
His stomach growled, yet another organ tormenting him. With a sigh, he pulled on a robe and made his way to the stairs. No use waking the servants. At least it would give his mind a momentary occupation. He scratched the skin on the backs of his hands.
He needed it. No, he didn’t. He could leave the room without—he halted just before the door. He wouldn’t use it but if he just held it for a few moments...when he held it, he was just a little bit more...well, himself. He rummaged inside his coat pocket and transferred the pipe to the robe. He’d just sit with it, have it, but wouldn’t use it. It was useless without the lamp anyway. Holding one item wouldn’t hurt.
He raked a hand through his hair, yanking the skin, the pain blocking the cravings for mere moments. He was weak, so very weak—worthless and useless like his father and his cousins told everyone in earshot.
His stomach wailed. Nothing about him was what it was supposed to be. At least though, food wouldn’t kill him.
He padded into the kitchen and scrounged around. Where did the cook leave edible fare? Finally, he located a barrel of apples. He grabbed three, held them to his chest and wandered into the library.
Jay sprawled on a chair and took a large bite as he stared at the location where a fire would burn in winter. He took another and another and another until the first apple was a core and made quick work of the second.
He pulled out the pipe and rubbed it against his fingers. That’s what he wanted, what he needed.
No.
Jay laid it on his lap. He could be strong. He could.
But, it would feel so good. Just once, just a little and the knots inside him—no.
He squeezed the third apple in his hand. He sank his teeth into it.
A floorboard creaked behind him.
Jay whipped his head around and slumped farther. As quickly as he could, he stuffed the pipe back in his pocket before she was close enough to see over his shoulder.
Ursula yawned. “You should be asleep.”
“It’s too hot up there.” He drummed his fingers on the side table, its legs carved to resemble Greek columns.
She settled herself into the chair to his side and exhaled. “Are you going to eat all of that yourself?”
“I’ve already taken a bite. You’re able to get your own. Or you could call a servant.”
With a scrunch of her nose, she stuck out her lower lip.
“Well, you’ve already had two. And it’s dark in that part of the house and I don’t know my way around...”
When did her whining become so charming? It shouldn’t be, especially as she was frighteningly capable.
Dark and unfamiliar, my foot.
If Urs needed something bad enough she’d thrust herself down into a cave filled with bats to get her way.
“Why don’t we go together?”
Urs beamed at him and the nerve endings in his stomach danced. His muscles unclenched. How did she do that? She was pushy and bossy and rude, but so damned enjoyable. Even without the powder he could almost forget. His hand grazed his pocket.
Almost.
She didn’t notice though. She grabbed his hand, tugged and soon they were back before the large hearth and worktable, blinking to adjust in the dim, almost windowless room.
After pawing around, she made quick work of an apple and two peaches, blotting her face with a cloth when she finished. She passed the scraps to Hecate who dripped remnants into Urs’ hair. How many times did she need to bathe per day?
