I bite my lip. “Just be careful.”
“You’re not weak.” He sounds confident. Calm. “You and me, we’re strong. Together, we’ll be unstoppable.”
His breath stirs my hair. His chin is right there, so I scratch my forehead against the dark stubble and lay my hand on his knee. What’s one hand on the knee? Nothing, right?
“I’ll give myself up.” The second I say it, I know it’s true. I already did it once, with Sybaris, and that was before any of this.
His arm tenses around me so much it hurts. “What are you talking about?”
I tilt my head until our eyes meet. Even in the near darkness, Griffin’s are like a storm. “Andromeda won’t be coming for me anymore. If she figures this out, she’ll be coming for you.”
CHAPTER 29
Back in Sinta City, I’m fawned over to a nauseating extent by the women in Griffin’s family. Egeria is suffocating and always trying to give me food. Nerissa wants to cure me with herbal concoctions that taste like goat cheese, and Kaia is too excitable, wanting to know every detail about everything, all the time, right away, bounce, bounce, bounce.
Anatole isn’t much better. Every time he sees me he says, “Melted? You just melted them?”
“Like candle wax,” I answer for the millionth time.
The old man looks gleeful. There’s a familiar and alarming twinkle in his eyes. Ruthlessness must be hereditary—not that I had any doubt. “I wish I could have seen it.”
Really? It was kind of gross.
My Dragon’s Breath is hiding somewhere deep. I feel it, but I’m not strong enough to access it. Invisibility works most of the time. I’m too weak to run, ride, spar, or even throw knives, which means I’m irritable and bored. When I’m not sleeping, I test the family on their new knowledge of Sintan nobles, their backgrounds, and their magical abilities to help prepare everyone for the realm dinner. Arming them with information is crucial. Continued success can hinge on small things, or in this case, a big party.
Griffin thinks I need more blood. I won’t do it. Not here. If I’m making Castle Sinta my home, I refuse to compromise it. He settles for exchanging saliva as often as possible, and his deep, hungry kisses must be working because I’m getting better. Physically. Mentally, I’m a mess. I keep lurking in places Griffin might find me and then running away when I hear him coming. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life, except possibly freedom from the miasma of plots, treachery, and revenge that make up court life. The problem is, I can’t have both.
Thank the Gods there’s Jocasta. She’s normal, except when she’s making me eat. Then, she’s frightening. Despite Egeria’s and her constant efforts, my stomach is still the size of a shriveled-up grape and tries to reject just about everything that goes in. After I almost throw up on her three times, Jocasta asks me if I’m pregnant.
My eyes pop wide open, feeling huge. “No!”
She shrugs. “I saw you kissing Griffin.”
“And you think I just fell on my back?”
“He’s very good-looking.”
“That’s no reason!”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t…” She waves her hands around.
Can’t say it, huh? “No, we haven’t…” I wave my hands around. Can’t say it either, I guess.
“But things have changed. Anyone can see that. I don’t think you’ve kicked Griffin at the dinner table once.”
“I haven’t,” I say, just a little bit disgusted with myself.
“You should.”
“Kick him?”
“Fall on your back.”
She sounds very sure. Not that I’m planning on doing anything like that, but I’m sort of worried about the whole process, especially with someone Griffin’s size. Just imagining the wall of muscle above me and his weight pressing me into the bed makes me shiver, and I’m not sure how much is anticipation and how much is trepidation. Not to mention that I’ve felt him hard and ready for the act. I desperately wanted him inside me at the time, but in retrospect, I’m not convinced he would fit.
“Do you just fall on your back?” I ask.
Jocasta laughs, but the sound isn’t very merry. “With brothers like mine, no one comes near me.”
In her case, “no one” means Flynn. “Does he know how you feel?”
She sighs, focusing on the wall. “I really don’t know.”