Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) Painter, Kristen (historical books to read txt) 📖

‘Fear God.’

‘What else do you fear?’

More things than he could count. ‘Nothing.’

‘Regem honorificate.’ Her fingers stopped there, making the rest of his body ache for the same attention.

‘Honor the king,’ he responded.

‘Who is your king, Creek?’

He turned to face her. ‘Who’s yours?’

Her eyes held a rebellious sparkle. ‘I have no king. Now answer the question or I’ll alert the KM that you don’t uphold your vows.’

No longer willing to wait, he pulled her into his arms. ‘You glitter like a king’s ransom. That should satisfy them.’

He kissed her, the way he’d been longing to. He was not disappointed.

She kissed him back.

Chapter Twenty-six

‘I see you’re busy.’ And not with you, the voices taunted Mal. If thoughts could kill, Creek would be headless and missing his genitalia. The pair sloshed apart and Mal noticed the flush of pleasure across Chrysabelle’s very exposed upper body. She was not the innocent in this situation as he’d first perceived, but certainly Creek had kissed her, not the other way around. Guilty, guilty, guilty …

Creek looked like a cat fat with cream. Chrysabelle looked like she’d just accidentally drop-kicked a kitten. Mal fought a tempest of emotion, none of it good. The voices laughed at him, told him this was what he deserved. What he should have expected from any woman in his life. Betrayed. Again.

She fiddled with the strap of her sports bra. ‘I didn’t expect you.’

‘You asked me to come.’ Had she meant him to see this? Yes. Fine. He’d seen it. Remember it. He didn’t need to be hit with a sledgehammer to get the hint. She liked Creek. Anyone but you. He was human, Mal understood that. He couldn’t compete with a human. And apparently, his answer to why he liked her hadn’t been enough.

‘I did, didn’t I? I remember that now.’ She nodded as she waded toward the steps. ‘Let me get a robe.’

‘You do that. I’ll wait here.’ As difficult as it was not to watch her exit the pool, dripping wet in only a sports bra and a pair of small white underwear, Mal found it even harder not to dive in and hold Creek under until he stopped breathing. Kill him or he’ll kill you. What kind of a truce was this? Had it been some kind of plan to wheedle Chrysabelle away from him?

As soon as the sliding glass door closed behind Chrysabelle, Creek leaped out of the pool and scooped up his clothes. The movement put him toe-to-toe with Mal. He shook his head with a degree of condescension that made Mal’s fists throb with inactivity. Hit. Drain. Kill. No, for Chrysabelle’s sake, he wouldn’t kill Creek. However … Mal hauled back and nailed him across the jaw.

The punch took Creek to the ground. On hands and knees, he shook his head, popping his jaw to one side. ‘I take it you’re not happy.’ He pushed to his feet, clothes in hand.

Mal scraped his gaze down Creek’s body, stopping at his groin. ‘I hope for your sake the water was just cold.’

Creek tugged on his jeans and leaned in. ‘Punching me is a pretty jealous move, don’t you think?’ He pulled his T-shirt on over his head. ‘Interesting, considering you told me you don’t love her.’

Mal didn’t answer, unable to deny the words. His hands balled into fists again.

‘That was a lie, then.’ Creek nodded and took a step back but made no signs to retaliate.

‘I can’t love her. I’m not human.’

‘Vampires are incapable of love?’

‘Not the kind she needs.’

‘How do you know what she needs?’

Mal walked away and sank into one of the chaises. ‘I can’t be with her during daylight hours.’

‘Everyone needs to sleep.’

He frowned, fingers flexing. ‘Don’t you get that I’m not human? Not anymore.’

‘Neither am I. Not exactly.’

‘But I’m a monster on the inside.’ And the outside, if he dropped his human face.

‘Most men are.’

‘For someone who was just kissing her, you’re trying awfully hard to give her away. What game are you playing?’

‘No game. And I’m not trying to give her away. I’m trying to keep her happy.’ Creek took the chaise across from him. ‘I think we both could.’

‘You want to share her.’

‘I want to keep her.’ He shook his head. ‘After my father was out of the picture, my mother changed. It was like she rediscovered being a woman. My sister would write to me about all the different men my mother was dating – good men, but men just the same.’

‘You think Chrysabelle’s going to sow some wild oats.’

‘She’s putting her comarré life behind her more each day. Things that have always been forbidden aren’t any longer.’

Chrysabelle, out in the world, tasting what it had to offer. The men who would come after her … Mal didn’t like the idea of sharing her with Creek, but at least he was a known quantity. There were worse choices. Like you.

It didn’t hurt that Creek could be available during daylight hours if she needed something, either. He studied the man across from him. ‘She deserves better.’

Creek nodded. ‘Too bad. She’s getting us.’

The glass door slid open. Both men turned as a frowning Chrysabelle strode toward them. She was dressed in a simple white top and pants, her hair tied back. ‘You two aren’t beating the crap out of each other.’

‘Disappointed?’ Mal asked. Because he could start.

‘Pleasantly surprised. And a little befuddled.’ She hugged her arms around her body. ‘Mal, I promised you we’d talk. Creek, if you could give us some privacy?’

‘Sure.’ Then he whispered under his breath to Mal, ‘By the way, I’ve been in the house.’ With a parting smile, he went to Chrysabelle’s side. ‘I won’t be far. Yell if you need me.’

‘I won’t, but thank you.’ She walked past Mal, toward the chaises. ‘So we’re back to this, are we?’

‘I have no idea what you mean.’ Actually, he had a pretty good idea of what she meant, but he