The eastern sky was a band of turquoise, growing deeper blue by the second. But if I stood in the middle of the Kings' expansive lawn and tilted my head upward, the sky slid back to faded pink and then orange. Deep magenta clouds hugged the western edge of the sky where the sun had just finally slipped down to sleep. 

"When was the last time you watched the sun set?"

Beau's voice was low in my ear as he leaned forward, offering me a plate. I darted a quick smile at him and then resumed my hunched silence as I stared into the fire. "It's been a while." There was a sigh I didn't mean to exhale on those words, but I was relaxing. In spite of all the reasons I should be on edge; the fact that I had eaten at the same table as the worldliest family in the world, the fact that I was calling attention to myself by taking lessons with Claire, and most importantly, the fact that Beau's body was warm enough next to me that I could feel him there even though he'd been careful not to touch me at all, I was relaxing. 

I couldn't help it. 

There was some awareness deep inside of me that was turning cartwheels and sounding alarm bells. The hypervigilant Chosen-bred vigilance that insisted that I was deep in the lion's den. It expected Satanic sacrifice and wouldn't be surprised if Beau jumped up and suddenly devoured a baby. Any minute now, it insisted. Any minute now he's going to eat a baby. 

But that vigilance was faint. Smothered under a blanket of something that felt almost like bliss. The fire crackled, the occasional knot in the pine exploding in a pop and a shower of sparks. The night was soft and warm, with enough chill curling around the edges to make me grateful I had Beau's warmth nearby. The crickets had quieted their racket, for the most part, only the occasional creak and whistle from a loud guy down by the woodpile, but the frogs had picked up the slack, bellowing in deep echoing brawwwpas that made us all laugh every time they went off. 

Us. The four of us. I'd always been part of a group, and now, suddenly, here I was in the middle of one again. I had forgotten how I missed being part of something. 

Claire was across the way, perched on a stump that Finn had wrestled into place with her. She was talking now, pontificating on how to properly toast a marshmallow, and then shrieking whenever Finn deliberately set hers on fire. The fact that Finn was down here with us seemed to make Beau relax too, although I could feel the way he was watching his brother and the careful way he was talking to him about neutral topics. Something had happened between the two of them, and that knowledge should have made me on edge as well, but then the fire popped again and the shower of sparks was mesmerizing enough to drag a yawn out of me. 

"Are we boring you?" Beau teased.

I sighed and leaned back in the rickety chair that Beau had dragged out of one of the seemingly innumerable sheds that hugged the perimeter of their property. "I'm sleepy." I stretched my arms overhead and yawned again. 

"You need sugar," Claire announced, springing from her log and snatching the bag of marshmallows up. 

I grinned and sat up a little. "I've been meaning to ask you. What are those?"

Claire gasped and placed a shocked hand over her heart. "Please tell me you've had a marshmallow before."

Heat tinged my cheeks, but when I looked over at Beau, I saw nothing but interest in his eyes. No pity. So I shook my head. "I can't say I've had the pleasure." I took one from Claire and gingerly squished it between my fingers. "It feels like a mushroom."

The fire was bright enough for em to see Claire's horrified disgust. "A mushroom?" 

"Well, then? What does it taste like?"

"I'd tell you to eat it right now and see, but toasted marshmallow is far and away the superior marshmallow." She handed me a thin, sharpened stick. I stared at it, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck raise in fear at how closely it resembled a switch, but then she speared one of the marshmallows on the end of it, neutering the horror. 

I swallowed back the memory. "Am I supposed to set it on fire?"

"No!" Claire shot Finn a look, making him lazily wave his hand. "Finn is just an asshole and a weirdo who likes to eat the charred parts."

"I'm just trying to teach you to appreciate the finer things in life—" Finn drawled.

"Whatever." She cut him off with an airy wave of her hand. "No, you want to toast it. Hold it far enough above the heat so it gets all toasty brown and perfect."

I allowed her to minutely adjust the height of my stick. She furrowed her brow in concentration.

"That's it." Beau leaned forward, brushing against my arm and knocking it so that the stick dipped too close to the fire.

"Oh no!" I cried as my marshmallow burst into flames. I leaped up, horrified, apologies springing to my lips as tears suddenly stung my eyes. 

Beau jumped up too and in one deep breath, he extinguished the flames. 

I stood there, panting. Unsure as to why my heart was racing, as I waited for Claire to chastise me. 

"Finn!" She reached over and slid the charred part of the marshmallow off. "It's your lucky day."

Her brother jumped up and came over, gravely accepting the blackened bits. I watched in wonder as he crammed it into his mouth, licking like it was some kind of delicacy, then sighed. "Well, I guess that’s it then."

"No, you can try again, look." Claire pointed at my marshmallow.

It was smaller, but it looked untouched. Pristine. Like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't made any error at all. 

Something in my chest that had been pulled taut like a rubber band suddenly snapped. I gasped in a deep, full breath and looked at each of them in turn. "That's it then? Just... try again?"

Claire shrugged. "Yup," she said, completely distracted with the surgical precision to which she was rotating her marshmallow. 

Needing... something... reassurance? I turned and looked at Beau. 

His eyebrows were up, but he just silently made a go-ahead gesture with his hand. I turned and tried again, and this time I managed to cover my marshmallow in a perfectly brown and toasty exterior. "Now what?" I asked. 

"You eat it." His gentle grin was all the encouragement I needed. I tugged it from the stick, yelping squeamishly at how sticky it was and making Beau laugh, then pressed it to my lips gingerly. 

"Oh my God!" The slightly burnt sugar clung to my lips and I licked them with my eyes wide. "This is... this has to be a sin." I gobbled up the rest of it and licked the sticky traces that clung to my fingers. "Have you had one?"

"Many times." He leaned in and pulled one from the package, producing a spear out of nowhere. "But I like mine more charred, like my brother." He dipped his stick into the fire, and calmly pulled back the flaming tip and blew it out. "It's terrible for you, but hey, you only live once, right?"

It was the very antithesis of what the Chosen would say. Life was supposed to be about readying for the next one, keeping clear of the worldly indulgences and hedonistic pursuits of the secular world. But I only knew this life. Here, with Beau, this was the only thing I could imagine, and a part of me wondered if he was right. Life could be... enjoyed.

He jammed the blackened bits into his mouth with such gusto that I had to laugh. "See?" Finn spoke up. "Beau eats his the same way and you don't give him shit? What the heck?" He punctuated his indignation by yanking Claire's stick from her hand. She shrieked as he went running, his laughter echoing across the dark lawn. 

Beau sighed. "Haven't heard that in a while." He sat down and motioned me closer. 

I jammed another marshmallow in my mouth. "Heard wha?" I tried to say around a mouthful of sugar. 

Somehow he understood me. "Finn laughing. He hasn't seemed to be able to have much fun lately."

I leaned back in thought, and as I did, my head brushed against Beau's arm. When he didn't move it away, I licked my sugary lips, my heart racing a little. "What's going on?" I asked.

His fingers brushed my shoulder as he shrugged. It was an accident, I told myself, but then they did it again. "Something. I mean, I know that's not exactly an answer, but yeah, something is definitely going on."

"You worried about your brother?"

"I always worry about him." He sighed, and his hand fell down alongside my arm and all at once I was snuggled into the crook of his arm. His warm body warded off the chill of the night air and for a moment we just listened to the night sounds. Above us came the slam of a door. "Finn must have chased her back to the house."

"What are you worried about?"

Beau sighed again, a heavy sadness in there that made me feel bad for prying. But then again, with his arm around me and his breath brushing past my ear, I felt like now was the best time to get to know him. More than the rumors and gossip and condemnation. "I know my brother can come across as a bit of a—"

"Dick?" I supplied, which made him laugh. 

"So you can say dick?"

"It's a proper name, right?" I smoothed my hands demurely down my lap which made him laugh harder. 

"Exactly." He sobered a little. "He's got this kind of 'I'm going to hate you first before you can hate me' defense mechanism because he was pretty badly bullied back when we were kids."

I sucked in a breath. "The big rockstars?"

He turned and looked at me. "We're just people," he said. "People who played music." I swallowed, keeping my eyes turned away from him as I reflected on how wrong every one of my assumptions had been. He continued, "Finn can get pretty down sometimes. Still."

"And it's your job to take care of him?"

"Why not? I'm his older brother."

I grinned at him. “By how much."

"Five minutes. Five extra minutes of wisdom."

"It's a good thing he has you."

"It's a good thing I have you," he said, pulling me a little closer. "To keep me warm, I mean." He brushed his lips across my forehead, startling me, but before I could react, he stood up. "I'm putting more logs on. Want another marshmallow?"

"Please." I leaned forward, and he laughed at my eagerness. The fire popped as he poked the coals, then threw on another load of wood. The dry log caught with a whooping sound and I let out an inadvertent "ah" as the heat hit my chilled legs. 

"Better?" His arm was settled back around me again. "Because I'm still cold."

"I'm not really, oh..." 

I drifted into silence as his other arm settled around me and he pulled me close. I stiffened and then eased into his body. He brushed his hand up across my cheek and then gently cupped my head back until it was resting on his shoulder. I could feel his chest fall as he let out a long sigh. "Watch it," he said casually.

Confused, I looked and then squeaked to see that in my distraction my marshmallow had caught fire. "Merciful heavens!" I cried, waving it dangerously through the air. 

Beau stilled my hand and put out the blaze with one strong puff. "Just the way I like it," he said, lifting the char to his lips. I grinned my thanks and then devoured the sticky, melted center. "You got some on your lip."

"I do?" My hand went to the side of my mouth. "Where?"

"There." I inhaled sharply as his thumb dragged across my bottom lip. "Ooh, it's a little stuck, I'm going to have to—"

His lips brushed mine, opening a sudden ache in the pit of my stomach. Soft and warm, and waiting. For several heartbeats, he kept his lips pressed to mine, and the longer he went without moving, the more the ache throbbed, bubbling up into a frustrated sound that burst from my lips. 

He heard it and answered with a sound of his own, reaching up to wrap his fingers around my braid and pull me into him. The tip of his tongue probed gently at my lips, teasing my mouth open. When his tongue met mine, the ache sharpened, making me catch my breath. 

In the course of one night, Beau had challenged every assumption I'd ever made about him. Now that he was kissing me, the last little bit of Chosen that lived in my heart insisted that this was it, that now he was making his move, angling to take advantage of me. 

But he wasn't taking advantage. He was only kissing me, going exactly as far as I wanted him and no further and as I relaxed into it, I realized I wanted him to go further still. 

How could this feel so good? It was just lips and teeth and tongues and breath but the more he kissed me, the more insensible I became. The combination of his hands at my face, holding me to deepen the kiss more, and the insistent softness of his lips on mine was driving me to distraction. When he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his lap, I almost leaped into his arms, and when he cradled me in his lap, peppering my forehead, cheeks, and shoulders with kisses, I felt for the first time that I had found a place where I belonged. I snuggled up to Beau King and for the first time in my life, I surrendered to what felt good.