Porcupine Ridge I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

Lorcan's hum deepened, resonating from his chest as he cast her a sidelong glance. His amber eyes held a flicker of something unreadable—amusement, perhaps, or merely the weight of a thought too deeply buried to surface easily.

Secrets, is it? he murmured, his tone light but edged with that ever-present, rakish charm. Well, if you insist, I suppose I could indulge you.

His gaze wandered upward for a moment, scanning the open sky, though his mind was far from it. I was a hired mercenary for most of my life, he said simply, the words devoid of embellishment. Coin kept me fed, kept me moving. Prestige kept my name on the right tongues. Reputation kept me alive. He glanced at her then, a sharp yet somehow gentle look. But it doesn’t leave much room for anything else. Siblings, close ties—they tend to complicate matters. And complications, darling, are a luxury I’ve rarely been able to afford.

He shifted slightly as she leaned into him, neither encouraging nor withdrawing. The shadow he cast around her felt purposeful, like the shelter of a storm-clouded night. Better places exist, sure. But better, worse—it’s all relative, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s just about the company. His smirk returned, faint but undeniably present. And it seems you’ve found mine tolerable enough to stick around.

He let her question linger, unanswered in full, before a low chuckle slipped free. You’ll have to keep prying if you want more, love. I don’t give it all away at once.