Page 53 of Endless Terrors
Not when it comes to love.
Laurie’s expression shifted. I saw the intention in his eyes a beat before he reached for me, and I had a beat to deny him. Push him away.
Instead, I met him halfway.
Laurie’s kiss was hot and thorough. His mouth moved against mine as if no time had passed since our last night together, and he tasted so good. His body pressed me into the wall, displacing my towel again. It fell open, baring my entire body to the chilly air. But I wasn’t cold. Laurie’s hand was a fist in my hair and the other ran up my bare side, stopping just short of my breast.
Only then did he pull away.
“You should get dressed,” he said. “I’ll start on dinner.”
I stared at him. My lips felt swollen from his hard kiss. “Wait. What?”
Laurie looked at me like I was an idiot. “Dinner. The consumption of food. There must be at least one participant, but when you make it two, everything gets so much more interesting.”
I resisted the urge to kick him and settled for a glare, but Laurie was already strolling out, hands shoved in his pockets. Cocky, arrogant bastard. Scowling, I picked up the towel, wrapped it roughly around myself, and went into the bedroom to get dressed. But not because Laurie had told me to.
A few minutes later, I emerged into the great room. The ends of my hair dripped against the back of my denim dress, and I rolled the sleeves up as I walked up to the kitchen island. There were two cloth bags resting on the middle of it. Laurie was taking items out, one by one, subtle muscles rippling beneath his shirt. The jacket he’d been wearing now hung off one of the barstools.
I stopped on the other side of the counter from where he was working. After a moment, I slid onto one of the chairs. “What are you making?”
“Portobello steaks with avocado chimichurri,” Laurie answered promptly, bending to open one of the drawers. “I checked with Emma to make sure you didn’t have allergies to anything. But if you don’t like it, we can always make a reservation somewhere else. I have a friend who will set aside a table for us.”
“I’m sure you do,” I replied with a small, private smile. He was just so … Laurie. I watched him for another minute. He removed dishes from the cupboards as if he’d been in this kitchen a thousand times. “Do you need help with anything?”
In response, Laurie retrieved a bottle of wine from the bag. He made short work of getting the cork out, then fetched two long-stemmed glasses from the liquor cabinet. He circled the island, dragged one of the barstools out, and poured. “I say this with love, darling, but you’d only slow me down.”
I decided not to argue. I reached for one of the glasses and took a slow, cautious sip. The wine was exactly how I liked it—red and just a tad sweet. I didn’t think it was a coincidence. I took another drink, turning the stem between my fingers while I continued to observe Laurie. The watch on his wrist glinted as he started to chop the parsley he’d just rinsed in the sink. “Who taught you how to cook?” I asked.
Laurie smiled. A strand of his hair came loose, and he tucked it behind his pointed ear as he replied, “My governess, of course. Her name was Florence, and she didn’t give a shit that I was fae or royalty. She didn’t spoil me like the rest of the staff, and she taught me skills the other courtiers looked down upon. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. She wanted me to have a good head on my shoulders when I took the throne. To be different from the rulers that came before me.”
I thought of Laurie’s kindness. He wasn’t perfect—I still hadn’t forgotten that he’d murdered Ian O’Connell—but he was also the one who’d left a chair for me in the tunnels of the Unseelie Court, just to make my visits with Naevys more comfortable. And he hadn’t even taken credit for it.
“Well,” I said, my voice soft, “I think she succeeded.”
Laurie set a cast iron skillet on the stovetop and glanced at me over his shoulder. As always, he heard the words I didn’t say. “But?” he prodded.
I hesitated. In the silence, Laurie turned one of the burner dials, and the ignition clicked. A small, blue flame materialized. “But I’ve been to your Court,” I said quietly, raising my gaze to his. “I’ve seen how humans are treated there … and the faeries who don’t conform to the archaic standards the old ones enforce.”
My mind filled with an image of Seth’s open, honest face. I blinked it away, nervous for Laurie’s response. He’d come back to the counter, and he slid a spoon through an avocado, his fingers deftly guiding the curved edge around the pit. At last he answered, his face expressionless, “Then come change it.”
Laurie didn’t look at me, but there was a challenge in the way he spoke. His meaning was clear. He knew I didn’t want to be queen, and here he was, offering me a crown.
But Laurie’s answer didn’t have the effect he’d probably intended. I pursed my lips and focused on the glass of wine I was still holding, working to control a surge of anger going through me.
“Or you could,” I countered. My voice was hard. I looked up at him. “You got your throne back, Laurie, and you did it with hardly any bloodshed. You used your intelligence, and your charm, and your connections, and you defied an ancient spell to reclaim your power. You don’t need me to make the Seelie Court a better place. You’ve proven that you’re more than capable of accomplishing the impossible.”
A muscle twitched in Laurie’s jaw. He turned away and tipped a bowl of mushrooms into the skillet. As the sound of frying intensified, he reached for a wooden spoon resting on the counter. “Tell me about your parents,” he said abruptly.
The randomness of the topic made me frown. It was also not an easy topic. But there was still a strange tension between us, like Laurie and I were locked in a battle of wills, and I wasn’t about to be the first one to back down. “It happened in the middle of the night,” I bit out. “I was having a bad dream, and then—”
“Not how they died,” Laurie interjected, his bright eyes darting my way. He’d started cooking our steaks. “I want to know how they lived.”
For the second time tonight, I stared at him blankly. It felt like it had been a long, long time since I’d thought about my parents without also thinking about that night. That dark, bloody night. It was easy to forget that the dead were so much more than how they’d died. Mom and Dad had led rich and passionate lives before a killer invaded their house.
“They were the best,” I said finally, raising my brows at him. “Seriously, Laurie. I had the most amazing parents. I won the fucking parents lottery.”
The Seelie King looked at me. The hard lines around his mouth softened. “Tell me about them,” he said.
