A Lesson in Thorns (Thornchapel #1)(28)

Jealousy punctures me like an arrow. I hate it.

I hate feeling jealous of Delphine, who is so nice, and I hate that I can’t clamp off this burgeoning attraction for Auden. I hate that just ten seconds ago I was watching Saint’s mouth with a hunger that almost scared me, and now I’m doing the same with Auden’s.

Do I just want to have sex with everybody? Is that it? Auden and Saint? Hell, maybe even Delphine and Rebecca and Becket?

After years of saying no, I want to say yes to five different people I barely know? What the fuck is wrong with me?

While I’m thinking all this, a small tableau of frozen shock and resentment has assembled itself before me. Auden and Delphine are stock-still in the doorway, that beatific look in Auden’s eyes replaced with something close to fury.

Saint’s on his feet, ready to bolt, and Becket’s risen too, as if he thinks he might have to physically intervene between the two men—which, given the events earlier in the week, might be necessary. Who knows with these two?

I stand as well, touching Saint’s arm to underscore what I say next. “I invited him here,” I half-lie to Auden. “I know you two don’t get along, but he’s here for me.”

Auden’s eyes, which were trained on the press of my fingers against the bare skin of Saint’s arm, snap up to my face at my words. “We ‘don’t get along’ is a very mild way of putting things,” Auden says.

“I should go,” Saint says to me, moving away and grabbing his jacket. My fingertips tingle with the memory of his skin against them.

“I’ll walk you out,” Becket says quickly, shooting Auden a look that says stay put. “Be right back, everyone.”

And they leave through the side door. Only Auden, Delphine, and I are left in the kitchen.

I should apologize, I think. Or acknowledge that there’s a new net of tension over us that wasn’t there before.

But as usual, it’s the curiosity that wins out.

“Why do you hate him so much?” I ask Auden. I’m angry enough that I want him to know I’m angry. I’m irritated and defensive and still fucking jealous of beautiful Delphine with her beautiful fingers still laced with his.

Auden’s face is unreadable, but those eyes glitter, green and brown and hard. “I could ask him the same question about me.”

“That’s not an answer,” I say, still furious.

He’s still furious too, and there’s a moment when his mouth flattens, when his jaw goes tight and his pulse hammers in the column of his neck . . .

There’s a real ripple of power from him, and it’s like kicking through cold water to feel the heat of the sun. When he straightens up and looks at me like that, he looks like a king. He looks like he wants to have me chained and whipped for my insolence, he looks like he did on the day he yanked both Saint and me to his mouth for a kiss.

A bolt of real, true fear flies through me; it leaves wet need in its wake. My knees feel weak and unsteady. I want to drop to the ground and press my forehead between his expensive brown Oxfords and wait for him to dispense justice. I want to earn his approval; I want every depraved, sick, and delicious thing a submissive wants—and more.

Auden finally speaks, his voice low and tight and furious still. “I hate him because he deserves it. I hate him because once upon a time, I gave him a piece of my heart.”

He closes his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “And then he fed it to the wolves.”





Chapter 9





I retreat to the library and work well past darkness, starting the laborious process of building a catalog from scratch, building it one shelf at a time. With each book I enter into the system, I research whether or not the book has already been digitized by another library somewhere in the world, and by the end of the first shelf, I have a good five or six books that haven’t. Those are the ones I’ll digitize myself—slowly, of course. This whole thing is really a job for at least three or four people, which I suppose is job security, so I can’t complain.

I’m starting on the first scan when Delphine comes in.

“Auden and Rebecca are working on more house stuff, even though it’s a weekend and he promised to work less.” She pouts. “I’m bored.”

I make what I hope is a sympathetic noise, while I put the book I’m scanning—An Amateur History of the Thorncombe Valley and Its Environs—in the machine and fiddle with the width of the cradle until it’s narrow enough for the little book. Then I adjust the lights in the hood above, lower a V-shaped glass plate that rests on top of the book itself to keep the pages flat, and start scanning.

“Poe,” Delphine whines. It should be annoying, but she’s so pretty and darling, and when I look back at her, I find she’s perched herself on the table and she’s kicking her powder blue ankle boots back and forth. She’s kind of irresistible. My jealousy of her coils into something more protective, more vital. I think if I were Auden, I’d probably be engaged to her too.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure this is just as boring,” I say. The scanner is the fastest one I’ve ever worked with—it only takes a few seconds for each page. There’s a slow pulse of light, a quick glance over to the monitor to double-check the image, and then the hiss of the glass plate going up while I flip to the next page. Then the glass goes back down, ready for the new pages to be imaged. And repeat.