Chapter 92 Does he...?
SOMA
We finish and return to the house. No one answers when I knock on Tristan’s door. Jade leaves for her dorm with a promise to get an answer by tomorrow, and I slump on the bed, sleep too far away from me.
Hours pass with me tossing and turning. I get out of bed, sliding my feet into my slippers. On stepping into the hallway, I pause in front of Brynne’s door.
Did he really send me that message? I leave without opening the door, settling onto the couch downstairs. It’s the same one I found him on the night we kissed for the second time.
Does he remember it? Does he replay the kiss?
Curled into myself, I stare at the ceiling. But no matter what I do, sleep doesn’t come. Tired of waiting, I stride toward the foyer to check the roses.
The bouquet is where it usually is, but it’s been replaced with a fresh set of roses. Whoever is in charge of it takes care of it well. Their determination is inspiring. I’ve had to change it only once because they’ve been efficient.
I run my finger over a petal, my eyes darting to the door. My decision is made immediately. I step toward it, wincing at how loud the creak sounds in the darkness.
Wind rustles, and the cool air tickles my face as I step out. I put one foot on the front steps and stop. Brynne is here, watering the roses. He doesn’t flinch as he moves to the other end of the building, the can tight in his grip.
All done, he saunters to me, and my breath catches. His hair caresses his shoulders, and his eyes glow in the light. A gray sweatshirt covers a body I’m eager to explore, while his long legs peek out from shorts that stop at his knees. He drops the watering can and climbs the steps, leaving one between us.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. He runs a hand over his hair, sweeping it into a bun, and my mouth goes dry. He snaps his fingers in my face, his brows creasing. “Soma? What are you doing here?”
“I… I can ask you the same thing.”
Brynne laughs. It sounds too deep and delicious, like hands running over my body and touching the right spots. I must have missed it so badly for it to affect me this way.
“Can’t sleep?” he whispers. I nod. “Me too.”
He drops onto the step, and I sit beside him without an invitation. We sit still, the air tensing between us. Do I mention the text or wait for Jade to confirm with Tristan?
“Mother liked roses,” he whispers.
It’s his first time talking to me about her. I stare up at him, but his gaze focuses on the path in front of him.
“She liked them a lot,” he mumbles.
My eyes close, and I listen to him talk about her obsession with them. How she filled the palace with different types. His voice cracks when he talks about the king ridding the palace of them in her demise.
“Do you hate him for it?” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Maybe? Sometimes? I don’t know. We all grieve differently. Seeing it everywhere must have made it harder for him to move on.”
Looking around, I ask, “Who planted these?”
“It’s the only way I know to feel closer to her.”
“Do you miss her?”
His voice sounds too small when he says, “Most times.”
“Does it have anything to do with your nightmare from that night?”
The silence that sweeps in is thick enough to touch. Even the wind seems to hold off on its movement.
“It’s more about what I couldn’t do to save her,” he says. The thought strikes my chest. I don’t remember much of the queen’s death. What I know is from my aunt and cousins, but they never blamed him. She was sick, which led to her death. A moment passes. He clears his throat and turns to me. “What about you? Do you miss either of your parents?”
“Both of them died before I could really get to know them,” I confess. I’m not surprised he knows about them. My records are probably available to all members of the royal family. The thought makes my skin itch. “Can’t say I miss them.”
“Ouch.” A small laugh escapes me, and I fold my hands on my lap. “What about him? Do you miss him?”
“Him?” I frown, but he provides no more clues. “Mason?” He grunts in reply, and I exhale. “I don’t know. I’ve not really thought about him in a long time.”
“Damn.” He places a hand on his chest and says, “That’s callous. I love that.”
“Oh, please,” I say with a snort. “I’m kind of used to being alone and not having anyone on my side, so yeah.”
Mason always tried his best, but there were many things beyond his control. In the end, we both had to fend for ourselves the way we knew best. But wherever he is, I hope he’s doing fine.
Brynne makes a sound of pain. “Keeps getting worse. Poor boy nearly lost his life for you, and yet, here we are.”
His tone holds enough lightness for me to know he’s teasing. But I flick a finger over his bicep, faltering as soon as our bodies make contact. Our eyes meet, and the air thickens. His gaze dips to my lips and back up to my greens.
He wants to kiss me, and I want that too.
We move closer, like puppets controlled by the same strings. His breath caresses my face, and I shiver. No, I can’t kiss him, not until I get the apology or confirmation of the text. Forcing myself away from him, I draw back with another shiver, and he exhales sharply beside me.
“Are you cold?” he whispers.
The chill has nothing to do with the shiver but him. Still, I nod. He acts swiftly, removing his sweatshirt to offer it to me. As soon as I put it on, my heart calms. His scent surrounds me, and the warmth of his sweatshirt feels like safety. Him.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask.
He’s shirtless, but the cold doesn’t seem to affect him. As my eyes rake his naked torso, I wet my bottom lip.
“Need me to stand so you’ll check me out better?”
A choked sound shoots out of my lips. “Who’s checking you out?” I mutter, my face growing hotter by the second.
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he pulls me against him, his lips caressing the top of my head. I fill my lungs with the smell of him and his shampoo and body wash. I can get used to this. Midnight conversations under the night sky.
“What happens if the ritual reveals we’re truly mates?” I ask.
He answers in a heartbeat. “I’ll accept it.”
My eyes dart up to his face, but he’s already staring at me. I expect him to ask me the same question, afraid and nervous. But he doesn’t. Maybe he knows my answer is the same as his.