Lydia's POV
I stormed down the corridor, cheeks still burning from the slap I'd given myself in my own mind a dozen times over. The baby's laugh echoed in my ears like a taunt, and my skin felt sticky with my own blood that he'd spat back at me. My fists were clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. Then I saw Jethro leaning against the stone archway, arms folded, watching me with that quiet intensity he always wore when something was wrong.
He stepped into my path, blocking the way. "Lydia, what happened?"
I didn't answer with words. I grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him close, and crushed my mouth to his. The kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue. He tasted like the wine I'd spilled earlier, and I needed every bit of it right now.
