Andre spent Wednesday, during the day, asleep in a motel room he’d rented. He knew he could have stayed at Sand’s place but decided it would be wiser not to. As he said to his lover, “Not until I know Thorin’s not going to forbid me from moving out here.”
“He wouldn’t,” Sand replied, stricken.
“He is my Sire, and my King. That said, I don’t think he will but…” Andre gave a shrug, and then smiled. “Not that I won’t come back, anyway, even if he makes it clear he doesn’t approve.”
“Really?”
Andre heard the doubt in that one word and responded with, “Yes, really. I want, I need to be with you. If we have to go on the run from him for that to happen, well, I hope you’ll agree to it.”
“I don’t know. That would be asking a lot.” Sand sounded so serious it frightened Andre—until he laughed.
