Page 24 of Blood that Burns
CHAPTER SEVEN
LAW
“What’s got you slugging back whiskey?”
Katina strolls in with a stack of folded bedsheets in hand, eyes narrowed in on me. She was notably absent when we arrived at the castle. Not that her being MIA is unusual. Katina does what she wants when she wants. Her debt was only ever to my father.
He saved her from her evil family, and the payment was a lifetime of servitude. The conditions were only for her to serve our father, and since he’s dead, she can leave at any time. She sticks around because she’s always had a soft spot for my brother. And now, she’s tied to Marina’s hip.
Which is yet another reason I didn’t anticipate being disturbed.
I huff. “Do you knock?”
“Didn’t realize I had to,” she says, barely making eye contact with me as she shuffles toward the mirrored dresser, discarding the sheets. “Would you like me to make the bed? Will you be staying?”
“Yes, please. I’d appreciate that.” I run one hand back through my hair while the other brings the bottle to my lips. Taking a long pull, I savor the burn the whiskey leaves behind as it glides down my throat.
“I’m afraid to ask again... but what, pray tell, has you chasing drunkenness so expertly?”
“A girl.”
Her head rolls back on her shoulders. “I’m not an idiot, Lawrence. Of course it’s a girl. When isn’t it with you?”
My mouth hangs open for a moment before I snap it shut, pulling a face. “You act as though I fly through women.”
One overly penciled-in eyebrow lifts. “Your bedroom is a revolving door for them. Your staff talks. You should probably get a handle on that.”
I don’t have staff. Not since I moved out of the castle and into the cabin. Not that it matters, because it’s no secret I’ve played the field. Being a prince doesn’t allow for anonymity, no matter where I’m bedding a woman.
“Care to tell me who is spreading around gossip?”
“No.” She doesn’t miss a beat, throwing a pillow to the floor, never once looking at me.
“You’ve never failed to keep me humbled.”
“With you, my dear prince, I find that straight shooters get further.”
I raise my bottle. “Preach, you glorious creature.”
Seated on the chair in the corner, I watch as Katina works to make the four-poster king-size bed. I should probably offer help, but I’m in no mood to be courteous.
“Lawrence,” she croons, “am I to wither and die before you tell me who is the mystery woman who has your balls in a vise?” She finishes tucking in the corner of the sheet before looking over her shoulder at me. “Currently, that is.”
I bark out a laugh. “Dear God, Kat, you don’t pull any punches.”
She blinks her heavily mascaraed eyelashes twice and puckers her lips, looking more like a wide-eyed guppy then I’m sure she intended.
I almost lie, but the truth tumbles out.
“Maggie Drake.” I groan, immediately hating that I spilled my secret so easily.
“Maggie... as in Marina’s deceased sister?” Her nose is scrunched, head tilted to the side.
My eyes slam shut and acute pain lances through me. She’s not dead, but the residual agony from the past year, thinking she was, is something that still haunts me. I vowed to keep her safe and I failed.
I could feel her disappointment. The question is, what is she disappointed about and how the hell can I feel it so acutely? That wasn’t something that happened even when we’d shared blood. I could hear her then, sense some of her emotions, but this... it was all-consuming and completely different.
I couldn’t hear her thoughts, but I couldfeelher emotions.