Chosen Fool (Forever Evermore #5)(32)
“No,” she clipped primly. “But thank you for the offer.” She moved back to Mr Damon, leaning heavily on him as he wrapped his arms around her.
“You know, I’m really tired.” I yawned again, moving to snuggle down on the bed. I placed Isolde above my head on the pillow and used Tristan for a body pillow, tossing my leg over his warm body. “This day has been majorly draining, so do you think maybe you can get to the plan before my food arrives and I pass out?”
King Collins ran a hand over his face before massaging at his temples. He finally stated unhelpfully, “I’d like to sleep on it then talk with the other Rulers privately and, more than likely, a few of the Elders, too, before we come up with a plan to keep you out of his sadistic f*cking hands.” He blinked up at me. Stared. Blinked again. “You may want to,” another blink, “call Sin and have him come back where he can be protected.”
“I’m thinking you didn’t hear me.” I yawned again, my jaw stretching huge. “Sin and I can take care of ourselves, even if you don’t believe me.” I sniffed, snuggling against Tristan’s warmth, but my head shot up when there was a knock at the door. “My food.”
Roselle instantly moved. The golden Mage protection disappeared from the walls with a flick of Elder Farrar’s little finger. She asked clearly through the door, “Who’s there?”
The answer was clear. “Room service.”
“Can you repeat the order, please?”
He started rambling a list of my dishes.
I moaned, waving a hand at Roselle. “Let the man in before it gets cold!”
King Collins stared at me for long moments, then he cleared his throat, stating evenly, “Caro, there is going to come a time when you have your own Prodigy. I’ll forewarn you, whoever it is will never be anything like you expected.”
I raised a brow. “Thanks. I think.”
Chapter Twelve
I sat in a booth inside the lodge’s bar the next night staring out the window into the dark night. Laughter and merriment continued around me. I was lost in my twisting thoughts of Leric. And always Sin. I ran from any romantic relationship put in front of me. Even my longest, being with Isa, I had run from. I could have come back to her…and I hadn’t. Instead, I ran from everything romantic, mainly out of confusion. I was not sure how someone could actually love me, a twisted f*ck of an individual. I knew my uncertainty arose from a lack of trust, a long-honed survival instinct.
And fear.
The one emotion it always came back to.
The terror that currently had my palms sweating and my muscles clenched tight. It was also making me nauseous, which wouldn’t be a great thing since I had eaten an enormous meal again at dinner. Fear was literally making me feel ill.
I wasn’t hiding it well because Brann’s deep voice rumbled across from me. I hadn’t even noticed that he had sat down at my loner booth. “Are you all right?”
I sipped from the lemon water I was drinking before answering. “Not really.”
Liquid amber eyes scanned my face. “Relationship sickness?”
I chuckled quietly, spinning my drink on the table slowly. “Always lately.”
He hummed quietly, sipping from his brandy, watching me. “He’s an *. You deserve better than that crown-toting f*ck.”
Again I chuckled. “I know.” I peered up to him. “I’m horrible with relationships, Brann. Like, anyone who has a real interest in me should f*cking run, horrible. You know?”
His lips quirked before he took another sip from his drink. “Or it could be said, you haven’t met the right person yet.”
I blinked, and my gaze wandered over his flawless features. “I’m a little off tonight, Brann, so you’ll have to tell me if you’re implying…” I mean, f*ck, we had talked about this.
“Um…no. No offense, of course.”
I snorted. “No offense.”
His lips curved, and it was most definitely the scoundrel in him staring back at me. “I’ll tell you a little secret about myself, Felon.” He twirled his now empty glass on the table. “Not many men would ever own up to this, but it’s true nevertheless.”
I waited, leaning forward.
His lips quirked sardonically as he glanced at his empty glass. “I lost my virginity when I was sixteen. And…well, I thought I was in love with the woman afterward. It was the experience of a first sexual encounter, awkward at first, but definitely intimate as it progressed. So intimate, I didn’t think I would ever meet someone quite like her.” He twirled his glass again before gazing up into my carefully blanked expression—I understood where he was going with this. “My point being, no matter what, the first person you have sex with always leaves a lasting impression. It’s inevitable, but it rarely ever lasts.”
I stared into his eyes, as still as a statue, again hating another person voicing what I had already worried was a real possibility. I had actually seen poor idiots think themselves in love after they lost their virginity.
His brows bounced slowly before he tapped his glass twice on the table, then he slid out of the booth, running a hand over his amber dress shirt. “And I didn’t say that just so you would feel horrible.” His lips tilted on one side in an ironic fashion, completely self-deprecating. “I’m f*cking horrible with relationships, too.” He snorted, running a hand over his face. “And although I loved Dakota, she and I were far from perfect. And we were mates, which scares the hell out of me for any future nightmares of a life with someone else.”