All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 47: Outside the Door

Thorne waited for me outside my chamber door, perched against the frame with one foot on the wall and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Is everyone lurking around corners tonight?" I reached for the latch with every intention of allowing him in, but he stopped me.

"Your mother's in there."

Of course she was. "And it'd been such a good night, too." I rubbed my forehead.

"May I ask where you went?"

"Ask away, just don't expect an answer."

He reached for my hand. "We could run away." His frame hovered over me, dousing me in his shadow, soaking me with the smell of burnt wood. Wavy tendrils lifted off his forehead and his focus harbored me.

"Why would we do that?"

"I'm tired of fighting," he said. "I'm tired of being at everyone's beck and call." His brow fell. "I'm tired." Thorne's confession resonated deep within my soul, far beyond where expectation and duty could affect it.

"And where would we go?"

He smiled, the crease in his cheek dangerously charming. "Morasse, to live with the mushroom people, of course."

The answer was so ridiculous I laughed. I'm wont to admit it, but I adored how he hadn't deferred the decision to me. How many times had Bröd asked me to join him on an outing and then proceeded to pass every decision henceforth on to me: Where do you want to go? What do you want to do? What would you eat?

It came from a place of wanting to please me, I knew that, but if all his effort concluded a decision to go out, did he still deserve the credit? If I had to plan the where, when, how, was he even courting at that point? Yet Thorne had asked and had an answer ready. He knew what he wanted. He never wavered. I knew when he wanted me, and I knew when I'd pissed him off. I knew where he stood so long as he was standing next to me. And I appreciated it more than I could ever explain. But could I say the same?

Call it impulsive. Call it reckless. Call it what you want, but I linked our hands, his chest crashing into mine with a delightful force. Worry etched into his brow at the collision. "I'm not a fragile human," I whispered to him. "I can take a little force." Eyr knew I'd endured worse than the hard press of his stomach against mine.

"That you have."

The seriousness of his confirmation conjured a twinge of awkwardness within. "What is it with you and walls? I find myself pressed between you and them often."

"I'd prefer to press you into a bed," the corner of his mouth crooked, "but they're not so readily available." His daunting silver eyes watched me slide my tongue over the inside of my lip in anticipation before he asked, "What do you want, luv?"

I bit into the flesh, hard, holding myself back as he pressed harder. Thorne braced his arm above my head. The closeness of him, the way I he trapped me beneath both his body and gaze, hauled every thought I'd ever had to the back of my mind leaving me blissfully empty. "Do you want me?" Each word left his mouth as though it were its own sentence. The question beckoned me with a single curling call.

I swallowed, leaving my lips parted just enough to let a shaky breath in. "Depends."

That piqued his curiosity. "On?"

"Whether you want me, too."

His laughter was one part mirth, one part growl as its sound sent waves of electricity through my every nerve. "Are my wicked intentions clear not so clear?"