“It’s Rory. I don’t like that she married a Lethal—a ridiculously powerful one on top of it. Cord’s a good guy, but I wouldn’t have chosen for her to fall in love with someone who might accidentally roll over in bed one night and electrocute my dearest friend. But of course, I can’t say anything. If I do, everyone will assume that I’m all jilted because we were betrothed and she married Cordray, but Rory and I were never like that. Rory, Adam and I are closer than siblings. I even stood up as her Maid of Honor in her wedding.”
“Did you get to wear a pretty dress?”
“No,” Henry pouted. “Rory wouldn’t let me. Had to be predictable and wear a tux.”
Ella tsked and shook her head. “Shame. You in heels? That’s a sight the world would swoon for.”
He sniggered at her teasing and got up to slide his stool closer to hers, keeping his hand in hers the whole time as he sat back down. “Nah. The men of the world already feel inferior to my good looks. I wouldn’t want to make the women question their beauty as well.”
Ella’s eyes fell to their joined hands, loving the way they looked together. Though he was more polished, their hands didn’t care. They clung to each other, doing what the rest of her heart was too fearful to act on. “It sounds like you’re in a rough spot with Rory. You want to be honest with her so she’s more careful, but you don’t feel it’s your place.”
“Exactly! And I really do like Cordray. He’s a solid guy.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Not to sound petty, but would you want your sister to marry a Lethal, no matter how nice a guy he was?”
Ella ran her thumb over Henry’s knuckles while she mulled over his dilemma. “Since she’s married to him, there’s not much you can do, other than be supportive. If you’re feeling all of this, I’m sure it’s nothing that hasn’t crossed her mind, too. You confronting her about her dangerous choice won’t do anything except make her feel all those worries she has to tuck away in order to enjoy her marriage.” She bumped her shoulder to his. “Also, the more time you spend with Cordray, the less worried you’ll be about the whole thing. Hopefully you’ll learn that he’s responsible about either wearing his gloves, or about taking his pill.”
Henry glanced at her sideways. “That wasn’t bad advice.”
“I have my moments.” She took a sip of her tea, loving the luxury of sitting for so long. “There’s more to your fears than that. Something deeper. Talk to me.”
Henry’s chest puffed with bravado, ready to push it all off and claim that he was fine, but the sincerity in her cerulean eyes gave him pause. “How do you do that? My whole goal most days is to make jokes so I don’t have to reveal anything real about myself, but one cup of tea with you, and I’m hopeless at keeping my mouth shut.”
“I’m sorry you can’t lean on your regular friends. With Adam being ill and Rory getting married, it’s got to be hard for you to be heard at all by the people who matter.”
“It is. No one gets that because I rarely have private moments, but when I do, I want to be able to be a person. You know about Adam’s curse, I’m sure.”
“The whole ‘he’ll turn into a member of the Lupine when the last rose petal falls’ bit? Yeah. Malaura was terrible. What a wretched person for nature to give that much power to.”
“Agreed. Adam carries around her curse like that’s all he is. Rory’s grown up her whole life with her curse hanging over her head, and only just beat it.” Henry stared at Ella’s fingers, slowly touching each of her unpolished nails while he worked out the words. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding melodramatic.”
“I won’t judge you.” Ella slid her elbow toward his, joining the outside of their forearms together, and making their huddle more intimate. “How about you stop being afraid to be yourself around me, and I’ll promise to let you be yourself, no matter how melodramatic you might worry you sound.”
Henry stared into her eyes, seeing the honesty there for the open invitation it was. He wanted to kiss her, to draw out her lower lip just so he could have something sweet to suck on. His body wanted to lean in and close the gap between them, but part of him knew that if she wasn’t ready to give him her name, then she probably wouldn’t appreciate a make-out session in the breakroom.
He cleared his throat and reminded himself of their conversation. “It feels like the people around me are perpetually cursed. Like my curse is to watch the people I love struggle for years under the weight of far too much, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
Ella exhaled in a soft, “Oh,” that was filled with sadness for his plight. “That’s terrible, Henry. You must feel so helpless and lonely, like you have to be positive and strong all the time to hold everyone else up.”
“That’s exactly how it feels.” He let out a deep-rooted exhale that had been churning in his soul for far too long.
“Who holds you up?” Ella asked, compassion welling in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone so sweet feeling so very alone.
“My father, sometimes. Though, he’s busy with all the shifting that’s happening on the political landscape, so I don’t like to bother him too much.”
“Bother him,” Ella pushed without preamble. “He’ll thank you for it. Bother him any time of the day or night. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that I can’t bother my father anymore, and I didn’t do it enough while he was alive.”
“I’m sorry. How long as he been gone?”
“Two years. Life without him is…” She shook her head at herself and settled back into her chair to feign calmness while the storm of sadness brewed in her chest. “Bother him, Henry. Tonight when you get home. Promise me you’ll bother him.”
Henry leaned back in his stool that was pushed up next to hers and banded his arm lightly around her shoulders. “I promise.”
It was all too much. Her gentleness, the way she made him open up and fight for making his life better. He knew he couldn’t kiss her lips yet, so he compromised and drew her closer to him, so she was tucked into his side. His arm felt like it belonged slung around her hips, as though it was the first time that series of muscles had ever relaxed. Both of them began to breathe easier, taking in long drags to inhale the scent of each other, and appreciate how well their bodies fit together.
He pressed his lips to her temple, letting them linger there while he spoke. “Tell me your name,” he whispered.
The debate was strong inside of her, warring between her need to keep him away from her messy situation, and her desire to be closer… so much closer. “Henry,” she replied, hoping the lie would suffice.
“I think we’re past that.”
She closed her eyes, daring herself to be brave. “Ella,” she admitted in a whisper.
Henry inhaled sharply and hugged her closer, gratitude beaming out from him. “Finally! Was that truly so hard?”
“Yes,” she giggled, wrapping her arm around his middle like it was the most natural thing in the world. Though they barely knew each other, their bodies understood the dance without instruction.
Henry tilted her chin up, his arm still curved around her to keep them inseparable. “Thank you, Ella. It’s nice to finally meet you properly.”
Ella knew she should pull back, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn her chin from his tender touch. He was inviting, always inviting, and when she stared into his blue eyes, she found she couldn’t remember her many reasons for resisting him. He leaned in slowly, giving her handfuls of seconds in which she could’ve pulled away.
But she didn’t lean back from him. Instead, she angled her chin up, her lashes sweeping shut to welcome the kiss she’d been trying not to dream about.
It was the worst time for her stomach to growl, but it had been silent long enough. She jerked away and banded her arms around her midsection. “Sorry. So embarrassing.”
Henry ran his hand over his face to snap himself out of the haze that overtook his desire to remain gentlemanly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
&n
bsp; “No, no. I’m fine. You fed me last time. I don’t want that to be your abiding memory of me.”
He drew his lips to the side at her pride. “You’re saying you wouldn’t eat a lunch I made for you?”
“Your chef cooking us something isn’t you making a meal,” Ella sassed him with a scolding smile, standing as he stood. “You don’t cook.”
Henry wound his arm around her hips once again, surprised to find that his body wouldn’t tolerate separating from hers. “Boy, are you going to be sorry you said that. What should I make you eat first—crow or humble pie?”
“Surprise me, Chef.”
“Oh, Ella. Don’t you know? Meeting you was my greatest surprise.”
8
The Danger of a Kiss over Lunch
Ella couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so many times in a single afternoon. Henry put on quite the show for her, taking over a station in the kitchen after the lunchtime rush. He flipped the peppers in the pan for her amusement, did a shimmy as he shook in the spices, and hummed her sweet songs while preparing a quiche for the two of them with goat cheese and shallots. He did anything and everything he could think of to coax out her smile, deepening the dimples that drew him in every time.
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I never would’ve guessed you’re such an accomplished cook.” She picked out a green onion from the pie. “I mean, look at these delicate little cuts! This is incredible.”
Henry divided the six-serving quiche in half down the middle, designating one side for himself and the other for her. Most of his dates would’ve balked at a cheese-heavy quiche, or picked at half a slice, but Ella barely paused between whole pieces, plowing her way through her half with the gusto of a starving woman.
“I love watching you eat,” he admitted, running his tongue over his top row of teeth at the erotic show that was Ella devouring the food he’d made. Every groan of pleasure that escaped her lips was one he’d placed on her tongue. Each morsel she savored was an indulgence he’d given her. He watched her polish off her side, and then he sliced off a chunk of his half and offered it to her.
Ella covered her mouth, her cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
Henry decided to cut through the polite dodging and call out the evidence. “Lady Tremaine doesn’t feed you well, does she.”
Ella paused chewing, and then swallowed with great effort. She wiped her mouth on her napkin while searching for the right words. “I’m allowed two meals a day. Sometimes I get to eat what I cook the family. Other times I get toast with peanut butter.”
“That’s hardly a meal.”
“It’s not a meal at all. It’s a punishment,” Ella said quietly, opening herself up by the smallest of degrees. “I’m allergic to peanuts.”
Henry’s mouth fell open in horror. “Are you serious? She gives you food that could kill you? You should tell her you have a food allergy!”
“She knows. It’s not anaphylactic. I just throw up if I eat peanuts. That’s my meal when I make her angry. It’s a fun little game she plays.”
“No,” Henry ruled, cutting his hand flat across the table. “You’re done working for that woman. We’ll get you a better job, easily. One where no one’s trying to poison you.”
Ella shook her head, eyeing the last piece of quiche on Henry’s side of the pie tin. “I don’t have that option. My situation is complicated, and can’t be undone with a simple occupation change. In fact, that would make everything far worse for me.”
“I don’t understand. You’re being poisoned. Poisoned and starved! You expect me to just… Well, I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. You think you have no one? Henry, I literally have no one. My dad was my someone, and when he died, my shelter blew away with the wind.”
“I’m sitting here right now, offering to be your someone!”
Ella held his gaze, wishing she had any other answer for him. “And I’ll hold that offer close to my heart. But this is what it is for me, and I’m handling it.”
“Any other job would be better than this. How much does she pay you to treat you like this? Whatever it is, I’ll find you something better.”
Ella cozied her cardigan tighter around her, wishing she’d said nothing. “She doesn’t pay me. It’s complicated.”
Henry’s fist tightened around his fork. “What does she have on you?”
Ella’s stomach screamed for the last piece of quiche, but she stood abruptly, knowing she’d indulged herself for too long. “I have to go.”
“Enough with the secrecy, Ella!” He rose and stood in front of the breakroom door, filling the exit with his broad shoulders and towering frustration. “Tell me why you let her treat you like this!”
Ella banded her arms around her stomach, willing her tears not to fall as her eyes watered. It had been so long since she’d cried, and she wasn’t about to lose her grip in front of the prince.
Her finger rose to point in Henry’s face. “This is why I don’t talk about myself! It’s my business, and I’ll handle my life how it makes sense for me. You don’t know all the variables.”
“But I want to know them! Can’t you see that?”
Ella stepped backward, pinching her forearm as she struggled against her tears. “I do, and I adore you for it, but trust me when I say that I need my secrets to stay mine.”
Henry leaned against the door, commanding his anger to deflate. He closed his eyes and sucked in his lower lip to keep any chastisements locked inside. “I’m yelling at you. You’re being starved and poisoned, and I’m yelling at you. This is exactly the problem I have with Rory. I get scared so I end up yelling at her, and I can’t remember why. I’m sorry.”
Ella froze, savoring his apology for the rare gift it was. No one had apologized to her in years. Yet here was the Prince of Avondale, humbling himself for her. “It’s my fault. I’m making things difficult.”
Forlorn, Henry remained leaning against the door and motioned her forward, his arms open to welcome her into his embrace. It took a few beats, but he was patient with her skittish behavior, understand now that there was far more to the woman than her blue eyes and compassionate smile. There were slashes and whole bruises on her heart that he couldn’t heal, but he wanted to—oh, how he wanted to keep her safe.
When Ella finally crossed the room and sank into his arms, the two began to breathe contentedly in unison, matching their hearts so that each inhale felt like one body moving. The longer they indulged, the more Henry allowed her soothing presence to calm his anger. He wasn’t just frustrated with her secrecy – it was Adam’s illness, and Rory’s laissez-faire attitude about Cordray’s deadliness. And then there were the hundreds of other things that he couldn’t fix, but the world came to him with the expectation that he should, and somehow must. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“I shouldn’t drive you to insanity like this. You’re a good man. I don’t want to teach you not to care about people. It’s just that I’m already in the mess, and I’d rather keep you like this, with that smile you sometimes save for me, rather than lose you altogether.”
“However much of yourself you’ll give me, I’ll take it.” He slowly swayed her from side to side, loving the way she felt in his arms. He thrilled at the shiver he brought out in her when his lips brushed her ear. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
It was the one thing she needed most of all, and when he offered it, she found she couldn’t resist him any longer. “Henry?” She pulled her cheek from his chest and stared up at him, drinking in his striking features up close.
His hand only consented to part from her waist so it could trace the edges of her face. “Anything. Tell me anything. Ask me anything. It’s yours. Always and only yours.”
“Kiss me,” she whispered, unable to work out the words with any sort of volume. “You can’t say something so perfect and expect me not to need to kiss you.”
Relief washed over his features
, replacing his worry with a lazy smile that had served the cameras well over the years. “When a beautiful woman asks, how can I say no?” He leaned in, loving the way her lashes swept shut when he neared.
He’d been flummoxed as to how to get in her good graces. Now that he was finally there, he relished his freedom and decided to toy with her longing, as she’d toyed with his. Instead of touching his lips on hers, he moved to her cheek, gracing the heated blush with a light kiss. His arm tightened around her hips with a note of possession that belied the gentility of his lips. He was commanding behind closed doors, and finally, she was ready to be pliable.
“Is that what you meant?” he asked, a whispered tease in her ear.
Ella’s arms draped around his neck, treasuring the contact. “You know it wasn’t, but I’ll take it.”
Henry moved to her other cheek, laying a kiss in the well of her dimple to make her rouse with need. “How about here?”
Her breath grew labored as his lips dragged down the slope of her neck, exposing too much, and still never enough. Her limbs grew weighted with a jelly-like sensation that trickled through her body at his touch. “Oh, you’re driving me crazy,” she rasped when his lips dragged up her throat, only to make a trail over to the juncture between her ear and her neck, where his lips parted so he could suck on her creamy skin. Fireworks blasted behind her eyes, her nerves ablaze the longer he drew out the seduction.
Without warning, her Pulse was sent out, shooting from her without her consent. The sounds of the kitchen in the background increased their volume, so it didn’t sound like she was in the breakroom, but fresh in the middle of the action. Her Listening picked up even more, and she heard conversations out in the dining room as if the diners were talking directly to her from a foot away.
When Henry’s lips kissed a line along her jaw, she let out a frightened bleat as yet more sounds overwhelmed her, bringing her Listening out into the street. The cars seemed to zoom right around her, though she knew she was still standing in the breakroom.
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