A Wicked Song (Brilliance Trilogy 2)

“Careful, baby,” he says. “You might start something you’re not ready to finish.”

I’m presently not sure if he means with my words or my hands. “What I said—”

The blue of his eyes fleck with amber. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t suggesting—I just—”

His mouth brushes my mouth. “Have to pee,” he teases, his perfect mouth curving. “I know.” He strokes my hair. “Go pee. Jenny dropped by some soup, homemade bread, and cookies. I’ll warm up the soup and bread so you can take some more medication.”

My eyes go wide. “Wait. What? Jenny was here?”

“Relax, baby. I wouldn’t let anyone into your home without your permission. I met her at the downstairs door. And her soup is incredible. I might have tested this batch out for you.”

Emotion wells in my chest. No one has taken care of me in years, not even Gio. I mean, I know Gio would die for me, he would, but Gio is just—Gio. A player. A wild card. A man on a mission he never explained.

Spontaneously, I reach up and rest my fingers on Kace’s jaw, searching his face for some sign of betrayal, some reason to send him away, but all I find is that bond I’ve shared with him. That magnetic pull between us dragging me deeper under his spell. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Stop looking for what’s not there and see me again.”

“I just need—”

“I know. We’ll talk. I’ll explain. I promise. Right now, I’m going to get that food down you.”

“Thank you, Kace.”

“Her manners return,” he teases, releasing me and heading down the stairs.

I inhale on the exchange, and God, I want this to be real, I want us to be real, but I’m scared. I turn away from the stairs, grab my purse, and head into the bathroom, the only other room on this level. Once I’m inside, I shut the door, pee, wash up, and then study myself in the mirror. I’m a mess. My hair is all over the place. My mascara looks like something out of a horror movie. My lips are bare. Meanwhile, my hand looks like it’s ten times its normal size. The ER wrapped it with a ridiculous quantity of bandages.

Kneeling in front of my cabinet, I dig out some gauze I bought eons ago and set out to rewrap it.

Ten minutes later, I am thankful that the injury and leaden feeling is in my left hand, not my right. I’ve managed to re-wrap my left in a reasonable amount of bandage, my face is washed and bare, and that’s all I have in me. I can’t handle pain pills and I grab Advil from the cabinet, pop four, and use the glass by the sink to down them. That’s when my gaze catches on my bare feet and pink painted toes. I didn’t take off my shoes and socks. Kace did. On a subconscious level, I trust him so much that I didn’t even notice. I have never trusted anyone but Gio. That means something. Doesn’t it?

Exiting the bathroom, the scent of food teases my nostrils and rumbles my stomach. I quickly make my way to the stairs and pause as I watch Kace move about my kitchen, half-naked without his shirt, cooking for me. I’m not sure any woman could resist the appeal of this man in this moment or really any other. Considering the past twelve hours or so, it’s pretty surreal.

I slip my feet into my pink fuzzy slippers I keep at the end of the bed, and then hurry down the steps, far more steady on my feet than I expected to be when I woke up. But then, the pain pill is now pretty much gone. Kace must sense my approach because his gaze lifts, his eyes lighting on my approach as if the sight of me warms him. I feel the sincerity of his reaction and with it, my sense that what we’ve shared is real, expands.

I join him at my small island and he sets a bowl of soup and a plate of bread in front of me.

“Just in time. It’s hot and ready for you. And for the record, if you like it, you need to text Jenny. If you hate it, you need to text Jenny and still say you like it. It’s her famous chicken dumpling soup.”

I laugh and slip onto a barstool. “I’ll text her with love in my heart and belly, I’m sure. You had me at dumplings. All things pasta and bread work for me.”

“Which is why I know you’ll love spaetzle. I still need to get you a good German meal.” He sets two bottles of pills in front of me and then moves to sit on the stool next to me. “Your antibiotics and your pain meds. How did you hurt your hand? You haven’t told me.”