Forever Moore (Forbidden Love #2) by Christina Lee & Riley Hart

Author:Christina Lee & Riley Hart [Lee, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Christina Lee and Riley Hart
Published: 2019-04-21T23:00:00+00:00

22

Ansil

Ansil paced and pulled at his hair as his thoughts betrayed him at every turn, and he thought he might possibly be going mad. He’d sulked in his room the past two days, not caring to speak to anyone even though Doc and Thalia attempted to talk reason before leaving him to his own devices. Even Orien had respected his wishes by not knocking on the door between their chambers, which now felt like a thick veneer keeping them apart, yet too thin at the same time. He could still hear his footsteps, his sighs, and he couldn’t help picturing him lying in bed with only the wall keeping their heartbeats separate.

His fingers itched to reach for him but also to push him away. He couldn’t even bring himself to read any more of what he came to think of as their book. He was a fool to become so caught up in a man who had captured him and lied to him. He could not allow him to also hold hostage his heart.

Last night he had thrown the covers off, feeling overheated as he recalled how Orien had kissed him, how soft his tongue had felt in his mouth, how solid his body was as they rutted against each other like feverish beasts until he had spilled seed in his own breeches.

He’d wanted to barge into his room in the middle of the night and lie in bed with him, ask Orien to hold him close or only watch him sleep. His body burned with longing, but he still could not let go of his stubborn anger. After all, Orien had never told him in all the weeks he’d been held captive in this room that Reginald was his brother.

He’d heard of the Moore family’s troubles, but he’d been young and did not pay enough attention. Besides, Reginald had been a friend to his parents and had comforted his mother after his father passed away.

Now bile crawled up his throat. Is that why he’d always been so distant with Ansil? Ignoring him most of the time while plotting his death behind his back? Small, seemingly insignificant memories began to seep through his brain. How Reginald was more animated around him the few times he’d met him as a child, but there was something underlying his mannerisms that made Ansil wary. How he almost seemed jealous of his father’s standing and insincere at his funeral. How he’d sneered when a group of villagers gathered to offer their condolences to his mother and Ansil’s birthright was casually mentioned.

It had all seemed so remote to him at the time that he could not even make sense of it around his grief. But stacked up, it could almost ring true in his mottled brain. Reginald was a very proud man, had even requested certain luxuries at the ceremony with his mother in order to elevate his standing, things that had seemed particular or frivolous but now began painting a picture in his mind.

If

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