Cursed Shadows 3 (The Dark Fae): Dark Fantasy Enemies to Lovers (Cursed Shadows (The Dark Fae)) by Quinn BLACKBIRD

Author:Quinn BLACKBIRD [BLACKBIRD, Quinn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

11

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I can only hope that the slaves of Hemlock House scrub the table in the kitchens every phase—and that they made extra thorough work of it this particular Warmth.

It wasn’t something I gave much thought to as Daxeel fucked me into this very table. But now that we have all found our way down to the kitchens this Breeze, having missed our breakfasts and lunches from all the drink-illness going around, I watch with too-wide eyes as Rune drops a chunk of fresh bread on the surface.

My throat is tight, gaze wide.

He picks it up—and tosses it into his mouth.

A breath grunts out of me, as though I have been struck, hard, in the chest.

Rune throws a frown my way, then rips off another warm chunk of bread.

Heat flames my face.

If anyone looks closely at me tucked up in my chair, nursing a mug of coca tea, then I fear they will know exactly what sort of deeds happened here just last Quiet.

It is written all over.

A pair of frosted green eyes lure in my gaze.

That heat burns hotter on my face as Samick considers me from across the table. Silent, he reclines in his chair, his fingers threaded through the handle of a copper mug, toying with the string of a tea strainer. He watches me closely.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

But if he does, when he flicks his chilly stare to Daxeel at my side, he says nothing of it.

The pair only share a glance for a pulsed moment, then Daxeel leans back in his chair. It creaks under the shift of his muscled weight.

Without so much as a look my way, Daxeel throws back an entire mug of cinnamon tea like it is saltwater and he’s a dehydrating selkie. He pours another.

No slaves in the kitchens at this hour to tend to us, so we manage ourselves.

Aleana struggles.

Opposite me, she tips a glass jar over her soggy oats and, with her bloodshot eyes straining to stay open, pours a hefty stream of cold goat’s milk.

Through a stifled yawn, she asks, “Where is Alasdare?”

“He wasn’t in his bedchamber.” Rune’s voice is rougher than sandpaper, and I wonder how late he and Samick hit the Gloaming last Quiet. “I checked on my way down.”

So Dare still hasn’t made it back from the human lands.

Of course, Aleana wouldn’t know that because she was passed out by the time we left, and she had to be carried out of the club, so she hasn’t the faintest idea that Dare split off from us before we made it back to the Midhouse.

I’m all too pleased to tell her. The litalf love of gossip is what tugs me to life, some.

“He went home with the kinta,” I tell her—and the fright I get from my own ragged voice is enough to have me reaching for a refill on my water.

Must have been the volume of the music at the club. We all had to practically shout at each other, and so our throats are on the overworn side.

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