Or maybe not.
I think he liked it when I stabbed people.
Especially him.
He’d returned with a bottle of wine and a platter of sliced meats and cubed cheeses. There were also small blocks of milk chocolate, and I might’ve shoved three chunks into my mouth all at once. I’d changed into one of Casteel’s old cream-colored tunic shirts, much like the one he wore now. He’d helped me roll up the too-long sleeves. The tunic covered more than a slip would or that indecent nightgown had. Even though there was much to discuss, the full stomach, wine, and what he’d done in that shower all worked against that. I ended up falling asleep as Casteel took the platter into the sitting room, and was only half-aware when he rejoined me in bed, curling his long body around mine and gathering me close.
I slept the kind of deep sleep where even dreams didn’t follow. I woke at some point, the gray light of dawn beginning to find its way into the room, and sleepily made use of the bathing chamber. When I returned to the bed, Casteel immediately wrapped his body around mine. I didn’t know how long I slept that time before I woke again, my eyes fluttering open to soft lamplight. Shifting under the light blanket, I brushed up against a leg.
“Good evening,” Casteel drawled.
I rolled onto my back and looked up.
Casteel was sitting propped against the headboard, dressed in black breeches and a white shirt similar to the one I wore. He was thumbing through a leather-bound book. “I took it upon myself to unpack the bags we brought with us and hang your clothing in the wardrobe. Kirha—Kieran and Netta’s mother—dropped off some additional clothing she believed would fit you and recommended a seamstress, even though I like the idea of you having limited clothing options.”
I wasn’t even remotely surprised to hear the last part. “What time is it?”
“It’s close to eight at night.” He glanced over at me. “You’ve slept for almost twenty-four hours.”
Dear gods, it’d been a long time since I’d slept that long. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. You needed the rest. So did I,” he said. “Though I was starting to get a bit lonely over here.”
“How long have you been…?” My eyes started to narrow as I stared at the book he held. It looked awfully familiar. “What are you reading?”
“Your favorite book.” His eyes slid to mine knowingly, and I jerked upright. “You know, I have this theory about Miss Willa Colyns.”
“I can’t believe you still have that damn journal.”
“She mentions something here, in chapter twenty-three, that got me thinking.” He cleared his throat. “‘Andre was the most uninhibited of all my lovers—’”
“You do not need to read it to tell me your theory.”
“I disagree,” he replied. “‘He was quite shameless in his search of pleasure as he was with his willingness to give, but his most impressive seduction was not his manhood.’” He looked over at me. “You do remember what manhood means?”
“Yes, Casteel. I remember.”
He smirked as he returned to that damnable journal. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Something about his manhood.”
“Why do you like saying that word so much?”
“Because you like hearing it.”
“I do not.” I shoved my hair back from my face.
“Stop interrupting me. This is a very important observation,” he replied. “‘But his most impressive seduction was not his manhood. It was the dark, wicked kiss of our kind, one he was all too eager to bestow in the most scandalous locations.’”
I realized what Casteel was getting at. The dark, wicked kiss of our kind. But my mind got stuck on the bestowing the kiss in the most scandalous locations part. Casteel hadn’t bitten me in that very scandalous location in the shower, but he’d drawn blood.
“I do believe that Miss Willa was either Atlantian or of Atlantian descent. Perhaps even one of another bloodline,” he noted. “I wonder if she still lives. If so, I also wonder if she’s planning for a volume two.” He paused. “You look very flushed, Poppy. Was it the wicked bite part? Or would you like to hear more about Andre?” He glanced back at the journal. “‘While partygoers celebrated the birthday of some young lady, Andre coaxed me out into the gardens, where he and his confidant, Torro, celebrated me.’”
I bit down on the inside of my lip, words fizzling out on the tip of my tongue. They…celebrated her? They?
Casteel continued, “‘Torro took me from behind, his thick hardness already taking me to bliss while Andre knelt before me, his mouth closing over my—’”
“That’s enough.” I shot forward, snatching the book from his hands. I got the book but didn’t make it very far.
Casteel folded an arm around my waist, pinning me and the journal to his chest. “You shouldn’t have stopped me there.” His eyes warmed. “Miss Willa was in for a very exciting evening in that garden. They were about to be joined by one not-very-innocent Lady.”