Page 60 of Bitter Burn
“In a less affair-y way, you mean?” I ask a little dryly, and Kayden gives a delighted laugh.
“I love it when you tell jokes, Tristan. It’s like getting to peek through the cracked door of a bank vault. And yes, that is what I mean, as it happens. I’d love to play with her if they’re open to it.”
The flare of jealous anger comes as pure combustion—scorching and then gone.
“I think they’re both open to it, but it hasn’t happened yet. Mr. Trevena is…” I search for the right word to convey all that he is. Something stronger than possessive, something hungrier than ravenous. But at the same time, sex is not as precious to him as attention, as devotion, as claiming. I think he’d be more irritated by Isolde playing chess with Kayden than by Kayden shoving his cock down her throat—so long as Mark got to watch. “He is a little more complicated than Hugo when it comes to sharing.”
“Ah, yes, well. We can’t all be Hugo and Isabella. Perfectly matched sexually, completely happy with their emotional autonomy from each other. It gets them hot to play their sharing games, but there’s never a real risk of Hugo’s feelings being hurt.”
We get to the elevator, and I press the button for the speakeasy-style bar on the second highest floor, where the others are waiting for us.
“Isabella is quite taken with you, by the way,” Kayden tells me as the doors close. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Hugo asks you about it.”
“Asks me about it?” My voice is a little wary, and Kayden claps me on the shoulder.
“No, no, my reluctant lothario, I promise you’re only a home-wrecker at Lyonesse. He won’t be upset. He’ll only want to know if you’d like him to share Isabella with you, make sure there’s full consent on your side as well.”
I must be making a face because he laughs again.
“Stop pouting at me. Is this about the home-wrecker remark? Come on. Who hasn’t troubled a marriage or two in their time?”
“This seems like a very Kayden perspective.”
“If that’s the case, then you are looking at proof that everything will be fine! And you don’t have to stop living so you can atone for one tiny, messy situation that anyone who’s seen Isolde would understand.”
Of course Kayden would equate living with fucking. “Well, you’ve seen Mr. Trevena too, so maybe you can understand exactly how messy it was.”
His eyebrows lift to the shock of chestnut hair hanging over his forehead. “Oh, it was like that, was it?”
“Yes,” I answer grimly.
“My point still stands though. How long are you planning on living like a priest?”
“It hasn’t even been three weeks since I left Lyonesse, and my dad has been dead for one of them. I’m not worried about my sex life right now.”
The doors open and we step out, Kayden still pestering me. “But you like Isabella, right? I mean, if everything is over between you and Mark and Isolde and you like Isabella, then why not enjoy yourself? Who would it hurt?”
Me, I want to say. It would hurt me. Because I’m still in love with Isolde and I’m still in love with Mark, and I don’t think I can surrender the hope that somehow this is all temporary. That there’s something waiting beyond Mark’s retribution for us.
“I do like Isabella,” I say, and it’s the absolute truth. She’s smart and open and kind, and in another life, maybe, or if I knew with certainty that I’d never see Mark or Isolde again… “And she’s beautiful too.”
“She is beautiful,” Kayden says with a friend’s ferocious pride, and then it makes sense to me, his pressure, his insistence. He wants Isabella to be happy, and he thinks I would make her happy. Which, sadly, couldn’t be further from the truth.
“She only thinks she likes me because of what happened at Armorica,” I try to explain. “We’re not a good fit, and I’m sure she’ll realize that soon.”
“How are you not a good fit?” demands Kayden.
“We’re too alike.” I lower my voice as we walk into the bar. The club as a whole is still very quiet after the holidays, but there are a few members here, murmuring in corners and hatching schemes for the new year. Mark, Isolde, Hugo, and Isabella are in the far corner of the bar. “I’m not…like you and Hugo. In bed.”
“I assumed that was the case—but that’s nothing if you truly want her! Just keep an open mind, Tristan, please.”
Kayden is awfully close to wheedling, and it’s so irresistible coming from a spank-happy playboy that I accede. “I will,” I promise—and it’s only a half lie, because sure, I can keep an open mind. Why not?
We get to the table, and then a streak of silver fur explodes from underneath, a bright red leash trailing from the neck of the creature. I lower myself and grab the leash just in time, snaring the puppy before she runs off. The scattered applause of five people breaks out as I scoop her up and turn to face them.
“Have a seat, Tristan,” Mark invites. “If you put one end of the leash around your chair leg, you can keep both hands free while she gambols around.”
I do as he says, make sure that her little chew toy is within attacking range, and then sit down. She also sits down, rolling on her butt until she falls over, and then starts licking my shoe. I’m in love right away.
