House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(105)

If this is the only thing that stands between you and your happiness, Behach ?an, then let’s pretend we are only friends.

We were never really friends, so I’m not sure how believable that will be.

Fine. He looses a long-suffering sigh. Back to enemies it is, then. It was fun.

I cross my arms. “Fun? I honest-to-goodness loathed you many times over. Especially when you confined me up here.”

Yes. He bobs his head in the direction of the studded door. In that horrid cell full of miniscule windows that you couldn’t fit through. What a grievance you endured.

“You can be so insufferable.” I snatch my sodden dress from his hand.

As I turn toward my door, Lore steals my hand and lifts it to his mouth. My temperamental little bird. He kisses my knuckles one by one. In my mind, there isn’t even a sliver of a doubt as to what this is, but I will ask my birds to bite their tongues until your qualms dissipate. He flips my hand and licks a languid line from the center of my palm to the inside of my wrist. Till the sky is darkest, and I can taste you everywhere.

I stand planted in front of my door like one of Nonna’s medicinal shrubs for a solid minute after he retreats to his rooms, gaping after him. And then I am gaping at the inside of my hand, at the glistening trail that reminds me of the one leftover by the snail that took up residence in my palm a long-ago summer day when I’d been supposed to help Nonna harvest herbs from our narrow planters, but instead, had found myself playing with their diminutive inhabitants.

Dress dangling in the crook of one arm and fingers closed around Lore’s strange show of possession, or affection, I pump the door handle of my bedroom, squeaking when I catch sight of someone lounging upon my bed, a book in hand.

“Oh my Gods, Pheebs,” I hiss at him as I clap my door shut and toss the sodden gown on the foot of the bed. “You almost stopped my heart.”

He pitches the heavy book aside, and it sinks into the pillowy comforter. “How was your soak?”

At his eloquent smile, I avert my gaze, studying the gilded accents gracing the title that shimmers gold against aged brown leather. “Fine.”

“Second rule of friendship: one cannot give a stock answer after best friend forfeits a delightful moment of relaxation so one’s friend can spend quality time in the buff with a hot male. It’s just not allowed. Had I been in there with Connor, I would’ve given you a play-by-play of every minute of our interaction.”

I bite my bottom lip, which still tastes of Lore’s kisses. “Everything said in here remains between us.”

“That’s the third rule of friendship: what is said between friends remains between friends.”

“Are you penning a manifesto of some kind?”

“Not at the moment, but perhaps I should spread my wisdom.”

I smirk.

He rolls out of bed and swaggers toward my closet. “I picked out your outfit.”

Upon seeing him emerge holding a gauzy black dress and a scrap of black lace, I gulp. “I—”

“—will put it on immediately. It’s perfect, Phoebus darling.” I take some offense that his impersonation of my voice is squeaky.

“I don’t sound like that, do I?”

“When you whine.”

“When do I ever whine?”

“You’re whining right now.”

“I haven’t even said a word about the dress!”

“On the inside, you’re saying many words.”

I snort.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t have an opinion on the gown.”

“I was just going to point out that it was sheer, which will allow everyone to see everything. And black. I don’t usually wear black. Black is for funerals.”

“What color do you think you’re wearing at the present moment, sweets? Yellow?” He nods to Lore’s top. “As for black, it’s the color of Crows. Besides, you agreed to my terms. If you prefer to pick another outfit, then by all means, browse away, but know that you’ll have to pick another friend, and best of luck finding someone of my caliber.”

I cannot help the grin that overtakes my face at his dramatic declaration. “Fine. Dress me like a first-class harlot.”

He hesitates for a second. “Fal, even with tawdry makeup and tits spilling out, you could never look like a harlot. Besides, I checked and the bodysuit beneath will cover all those essential bits that you’re saving for the eyes of a certain handsome, lethal king.”

My cheeks warm, and my heart takes flight.

“And, no, I am not referring to Dante.”

My mind hadn’t even wandered Dante’s way.

“Now, tell me everything.”

I wrinkle my nose and squeeze my lids shut.

“Picolina, I assure you, nothing you did down there will shock me.”

I am fully aware of Phoebus’s breadth of experience. Most of Luce is. Keeping my eyes shut, I confess, “I stumbled onto his lap.”

“Clever. I may recycle your trick.”

My lids reel up. “It was no trick, Pheebs. I was trying to climb out of the pool, and I slipped.”

“A shame you didn’t stumble onto his cock. He looks like he’s in possession of a substantial one. Not that size matters all that much, but . . .” He wrinkles his nose. “Was your target his penis but it was too small?” He looks suddenly so anxious that I cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of me.