I relaxed as he popped the cork and poured a glass of wine. “Then you should talk to him. He’s probably just concerned.”

“Does it make me a bad son if I say I don’t care?” He handed the glass to me.

A wry grin formed as I pulled my legs up, crossing them. I took a sip. The wine tasted of sugared berries. “A little.”

“Oh well.”

I tipped toward him. “I know that you do care, though. You love your parents. You haven’t seen them in the gods know how long, and you haven’t had a chance to talk to either of them under any normal circumstances. Go talk to your father, Cas. I’m fine.”

“Cas.” He bit down on his bottom lip as he planted his fists on the bed and bent over. “I’ve changed my mind about you calling me that.”

“You have?” I lowered my glass.

He nodded as he leaned in, brushing his lips across mine. “Because hearing you say it makes me want to get my mouth between your thighs again, and that need is quite distracting.”

Heat flooded my veins. “Sounds like that’s your problem.” I grinned. “Cas.”

“Gods,” he said, the word rumbling out of him. He kissed me quickly, nipping at my bottom lip as he withdrew.

Kieran appeared in the archway as Casteel straightened. He’d changed since he left us, having donned fawn-colored breeches and a sleeveless, white dress shirt that he had tucked in. “Did you actually get some rest, or did you spend hours asking Cas question after question?”

“I slept,” I told him as I plucked a chocolate-glazed strawberry from the tray. “After asking a few questions.”

“A few?” Kieran snorted.

“Yes, only—” Words failed me as Casteel caught my wrist. He lifted my hand, closing his mouth over my finger.

A wicked trill flooded my veins. His tongue swirled over my skin, catching the melting chocolate. Air caught in my throat as the edge of his fang pricked my skin when he drew back. I felt the languid tug of his mouth all the way through me.

The gold of his eyes turned to a heated honey. “Tasty.”

Tension coiled deep inside me as I stared at him. A wolfish half-grin appeared.

“Did you two forget I was here?” Kieran asked. “Holding a conversation with you two? Or trying to.”

I sort of did.

“Not at all,” Casteel remarked. “Poppy did have a very relaxing evening. We did some light reading.”

Light reading?

“Is that so?” Kieran’s brows rose.

Wait.

“Yes, from Poppy’s favorite journal, written by a Miss Willa—”

“He was reading that,” I cut in, picking up a piece of cheese. “I woke up, and he was reading—”

“You know, the one I found her with on that window ledge? The scene was about a very dark sort of wicked kiss on a very inappropriate area,” Casteel continued while Kieran stared at us blankly. “And foursomes.”

Slowly, I looked up at Casteel. Oh, my gods. My eyes narrowed as I debated throwing the cheese in his face. I didn’t. Instead, I ate it rather aggressively. He was lucky I loved cheese.