Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1)(79)

“Don’t be stupid.” She punched her pillow into shape and threw herself back down. Careful not to touch me this time. “Of course witches have sons.”

My smile vanished. “We’ve never encountered a male witch.”

“That’s because there are none. Magic passes only to females. The males are sent away after they’re born.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Because they don’t have magic. My friend said males are only allowed at the Chateau as consorts, and even then they aren’t allowed to stay.”

“She told you all this?”

“Of course.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at me, as if daring me to contradict her. “You should really educate yourself, Chass. A common street thief knows more about your enemies than you do. How embarrassing.”

Chagrin washed through me. Lou burrowed deeper in the blankets as the wind picked up outside.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

I inched closer, lifting my arm. “Will you accept an olive branch?”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

I pulled her against my chest, locking my hands at the small of her back. She returned to being a piece of wood. Small. Tense. Unyielding. Stripped of her prying questions and insulting banter, it was almost as if she were . . . nervous.

“Relax,” I murmured against her hair. “I don’t bite . . . much.” Quiet laughter rumbled through my chest. If possible, she stiffened even more. She needn’t have worried. Surely she heard the thundering of my heart and realized her advantage.

“Was that a joke, Chass?”

My arms tightened around her. “Maybe.” When she said nothing in return, I pulled back to look at her. Another smile tugged at my lips.

And, suddenly, I recalled our first night together.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Lou.” I stroked her back, forcing myself to remain still as she wriggled against me. “I’m not going to try anything.”

A noise of protest escaped her. “Why not?”

“I seem to remember you threatening to cut me open if I touched you without permission.” I tilted her chin up, cursing and congratulating myself in equal measure when her eyes fluttered shut. When her breath hitched. I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing hers. “I won’t touch you until you ask.”

Her eyes flew open, and she pushed me away with a snarl. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” I smirked again and settled back against the pillow. “It’s late. We should sleep.”

Her eyes sparked with anger. With understanding.

With grudging admiration.

Triumphant, I watched her sift through her thoughts—watched each emotion play out on her freckled face. She scowled at me. “It appears I underestimated you.”

I raised my brows. “Just say the words. Ask me.”

“You’re an ass.”

I shrugged. “Have it your way.” In one fluid motion, I lifted the hem of my shirt up and over my head. Her eyes flew open incredulously.

“What are you doing?” She grabbed my shirt and threw it back at me.

I caught it. Tossed it to the floor. “I’m hot.”

“You—you— Get out of my bed! Get out!” She shoved me, probably with all her strength, but I didn’t budge. I only grinned.

“This is my bed.”

“No, this is where I sleep. You sleep on the—”

“Bed.” I clasped my hands behind my head. She gaped at me, eyes flicking to my arms—my chest. I grinned wider and resisted the urge to flex. “I’ve had a knot in my back for two weeks. I’m done sleeping on the floor. This is my bed, and I’m sleeping in it from now on. You’re welcome to join me, otherwise the tub is still free.”

She opened her mouth angrily. Closed it again. “I— This is— I am not sleeping in the—” Her eyes darted around the bed, clearly searching for something to impale me with. They landed on a pillow.

Whack.

I caught it before she could hit me again, trapping it against my chest. Clamping my lips together to keep from laughing. “Lou—lie down. Go to sleep. Nothing has changed. Unless you want to ask me something?”

“Don’t hold your breath.” She yanked the pillow from me. “Actually—do.”

I chuckled before turning away. “Good night, Lou.”

She fell asleep long before I did.





Blood, Water, and Smoke


Lou


I woke the next morning with my face buried against Reid’s chest. His arms draped across my ribs, and his hands rested on my lower back. I arched into him sleepily, savoring the sensation of his skin against my own—then froze. My nightgown had pooled around my waist in the night, and my legs and belly were bare against him.

Shit, shit, shit.

I scrambled to pull down my nightgown, but he jerked awake at the movement. Instantly alert, he swept his eyes from my panicked expression to the empty room. The corner of his lips quirked, and a blush crept up his throat. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” I shoved away from him, my own cheeks treacherously warm. He grinned wider and grabbed his shirt from the floor before heading to the washroom. “Where are you going?” I asked.