Page 78 of Sparrow

Or rather... I sleep better when I’m in Orion’s arms. Or in Mars’ company.

Most likely I sleep better when I haven’t spent the day being attacked by another MC, lying to a doctor about what’s wrong with me, lying to the men who are trying to take care of me, and then sharing midnight secrets with Orion.

Today has contained too much emotion for one set of hours. And not enough chocolate.

I flip the sheets off, put on a robe, and creep out of my room, my feet aimed for the kitchen.

It’s deserted, thank goodness, and I put a pot on the stove and fill it with enough milk to make several mugs of hot chocolate. Not because I expect anyone else to show up–the house is dark and quiet–but because I believe in being prepared if they do. I turn to the pantry and get the cocoa out, then pour several packets into the heating milk.

It’s more than I’ll drink on my own, but if Mars or Orion shows up...

As I pour the cocoa and think about the men, though, my movements get slower. I’m exhausted after the events of the day, my body nearly as tired as my mind, and I’m not even sure how I’ve still got my eyes open. The scene at the cafe today was too close to what happened in New York, and that man following afterward...

I wonder again if I should go home, where I have guards and better safety. Armed cars and my father’s security system. But was I actually safer there?

After all, that first cafe scene happened in New York, and my father’s guards weren’t there to do a damn thing about it.

And in New York, I don’t have Mars and Orion taking care of me.

My hands start shaking at the thought and I put one of them to my heart, feeling for the beat. It’s fine, everything’s fine, but the shaking won’t stop, and I start to panic.

Then another hand takes the packets of chocolate out of my hand and pushes me softly to the side.

“You sit,” Orion murmurs. “Let me.”

I blink at him, only half surprised to see him. I still argue, though. On principle.

“I’m perfectly capable–”

“I know. I’m still making it.”

He mixes the chocolate in the milk, then pushes me again and I move toward a bar stool, surrendering the job of chocolatier to my handsome, mysterious man. As I watch, he adds another packet of chocolate so the cocoa is extra strong, just the way I like it.

I didn’t realize he’d noticed that.

He pours the liquid into two mugs, then turns to the bar with them. A bottle of whiskey appears in his hand as if by magic, and he pours a finger into my cup and slightly more into his.

When he slides me my mug, his fingers claim mine, and stick. The mug is hot, but he’s got my hand trapped against it and I don’t have the heart to move away.

Something in my heart is telling me I’m too close to losing him, and I can’t stand the thought. I don’t want to let go of him. I don’t care how much the mug might burn me.

It’s never going to force me to let him go.

We’re sitting there staring at each other in dead silence, our eyes saying exactly what we’re thinking, when Mars wanders in. He’s dressed only in pajama pants and slippers and his hair is standing on end like he’s just been electrocuted. He looks like he just woke up and came directly here without pausing to look in the mirror.

When he looks up and notices us, he makes a face. “What is it with you two and cocoa at 2 in the morning?”

“It’s medicinal,” I say, at the same time as Orion says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

We look at each other and stifle our laughter.

“Well you’ve never made one for me,” Mars grouses.

“You don’t even like chocolate,” Orion protests.

Mars fixes him with a glare. “I love chocolate, Orion. It’s caramel I don’t like.”

I jump down from the bar stool, suddenly feeling better. “Well I hope you like it strong. I made extra but Orion’s put too much chocolate in. So you’re going to have to take it stiff.”