A Lesson in Thorns (Thornchapel #1)(31)

Except there are people in the sketch, several men and women with lanterns. One woman stands in the center, her robes simple and unadorned and her lantern raised higher than the rest. She’s faced by another woman and a man, and behind them is the gentle grassy swell of the old altar.

Déjà vu has me sucking in a fast breath, like I’ve been struck.

“Many traditions survived late at Thornchapel,” Delphine reads from over my shoulder, “and the rural folk even until recent memory have carried on their superstitions, celebrating feasts like St. Brigid’s Day in the most rustic and profane ways. Some say these country heresies were even led by the lord of Thornchapel himself . . .”

She stops reading, gives a long, pouty sigh. “I wish we still got to do fun things like this.”

“Like what? Cavort around in the dark with lanterns?”

“Yes! Wouldn’t that make all these dreary, gray weeks seem brighter? Knowing we’d get to do something pretty and playful at the end of them?”

“It would,” I murmur. My own heart beats a little faster at the idea, but not because I necessarily want to wander around the ruins with lanterns and robes.

But because I’ve dreamt it.

I’ve dreamt it so many times that it’s begun to feel real.

Just a dream thing, Poe.

“Anyway,” Delphine says, breaking the spell, “I’m simply starving. I’m going to go have a little pre-dinner tipple to take the edge off the hunger. You want to come with me?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll join you,” I say, but I’m not looking at her. I’m looking back down at the sketch, where the man in the middle is greeting the maiden by the altar. He has something slender around his neck; it looks like a torc, like something an ancient Celtic king would have worn.

In fact, it looks like the very same thing my mother is holding in the picture, the thing she’s trying to put around Ralph Guest’s neck.

What were you doing that summer? I ask my mother silently.

And what went so terribly wrong that you had to come back?





Chapter 10





Auden’s mask is back in place.

Throughout dinner and the drinks after, he’s charming and interesting and such a careless, beautiful boy that I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to feel. Except that I’m not supposed to fall in love with him because he’s engaged, and because it would be stupid, and because he’s been so awful to Saint for no reason I can discern—

And yet even his carelessness snares me, even his casual literary references and his haughty looks make me blush. I think about glimpsing his anger and his power in the kitchen. I wonder if he’s ever thought about BDSM, if he’s ever wanted to tie someone down just so he could stand over them, if he’s ever wanted to mark someone’s skin just to know if they’d let him.

I wonder if he and Delphine are kinky.

I wonder it so hard that I strain my ears that night to see if I can hear them make love.

I can’t.

But I get myself off just thinking about it, and then I roll over onto my back wishing I could slap myself in the face.

I’m jealous of Delphine and yet turned on by Delphine. My skin is haunted by the ghost of Saint’s lip ring . . . and I haven’t even felt it yet. I wonder if Rebecca is willing to take me on as a sub, and I wonder if Becket ever breaks his vows. I can’t stop thinking of the expression on Auden’s face when he was hoisted over Saint and me on the gravel, I can’t stop thinking about those hazel eyes and how they would look burning over me in the heat of power and play.

Even for a sex monster, it’s just too much, but I’m helpless against the churning of desire. I can control myself, I can keep my actions sane and respectful, but inside—inside I am seething and roiling with a hunger so acute I think it might kill me.

And the worst thing is I don’t even want to stop feeling this way. I like it too fucking much.





“Put all of that away at once,” Delphine declares to me as she glides into the library the next evening. She’s waving in poor Abby, who’s rolling a tray laden with pies and miniature quiches, and rolls and ham, and bowls of salads and slaws that look like they took a long time to make. I suddenly feel very embarrassed at the effort that’s been expended on my account, and I close down my scanner station so I can help Abby set up a buffet of sorts on one of the long tables. Delphine helps too, to her credit, and between us, we have the work done quickly.

“I told Bex and Audey to get down here pronto,” Delphine says, pulling out her phone and starting to experiment with camera angles. “They’re plotting some new garden thing, I think. And Becky should be here any minute.”

“I found another book about people cavorting with lanterns today,” I tell her, walking over to get myself a drink.

I have Delphine’s full attention now. “In the thorn chapel?”

“In the thorn chapel,” I confirm, trotting back to my workstation to grab the book. “I kept it out for you.”

“Kept what out?” an elegant voice says, and I turn to see Auden leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets. His eyes glitter over me, and I have to remember how to breathe.

“It’s just a book,” I whisper.