The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,28
got our girl,” she says, her smile wobbling a little, tears coming to her eyes. “And, of course, our guy.”
“Not getting her wasn’t an option,” I reply, looking at Murrow long enough to let him feel my displeasure, even if he doesn’t fully understand it yet. His eyes drop after a few seconds, and it takes everything in me not to demand how he could be so careless.
“It’s been years, Maxim,” Vivienne says, getting up from her spot on the couch and coming for a hug, too. “I always knew you’d weasel your way back into Lenn’s life, and thank goodness you did.”
I haven’t seen her since Amsterdam more than a decade ago. With fresh eyes, I note the resemblance to her brother.
“Good to see you again, too, Vivienne. How’s Manhattan treating you?”
“Great. I don’t get off that island much, but I had to come make sure Wall and Lenn were okay.” She squeezes my hand and looks directly into my eyes. “Truly, thank you for going to get them.”
I don’t respond, but am moved by her sincere gratitude. I just nod and squeeze her hand in return.
Lennix stands and walks over to me wearing a wide smile, leggings, and a sweatshirt with DEFEAT THE PATRIARCHY emblazoned across the front.
“Hey,” she greets me warmly, stretching up for a kiss. I don’t really give a damn that her friends are watching. I take her by the chin and kiss her thoroughly, groaning when she kisses me back with the same enthusiasm and disregard for anyone else. It’s only a few seconds and nowhere near satisfying, but it soothes my agitation at having to be away from her all day. I haven’t wanted her out of my sight since we got back from Costa Rica. It’s an overreaction, and she’s safe, but I can’t ignore the niggling worry that something will happen again, especially with no confirmation on Abe’s body.
“I missed you,” I whisper in her ear when we break the kiss. “I’m trying really hard to be nice to your friends, but I want you to myself.”
She pulls back, and I expect that she’ll at least teasingly scold me, but the desperate heat I saw in her eyes last night is still there. “Missed you, too,” she whispers.
That only makes me want to kick everyone out even more, but instead I turn to her friends and pull her into my side. “What are we eating? I’m starving.”
“Mena left some bison and kale,” Kimba says, nodding toward a loaded serving dish on the table.
“Is that okay?” Lennix asks with a slight frown. “The bison, I mean?”
“You’re a vegetarian?” Wallace asks, a forkful of the meat halfway to his mouth.
“No,” I serve some of the meat onto my plate. “But I limit my cattle intake because of how deforestation contributes to global warming.”
Wallace nods, but his sister looks baffled.
“Can I admit I don’t understand how those things actually relate?” she asks with a wry smile.
“They clear forests for pastures, grazing and raising crops to feed livestock,” Lennix answers before I can. I love that she cares about these things, that she feels deeply connected to nature and the land even more fundamentally than I do. My concern is largely pragmatic. For her and her tribe, it’s just as much spiritual.
“When those trees are cut down and burned,” Lennix continues, “carbon dioxide is released, which I believe is the main source of global warming. Is that right, Maxim?”
“Right,” I say. “In addition to being what we call ecologically inefficient, basically meaning it costs us more than the benefits it yields.”
“What’s an example?” Vivienne presses. “’Cause I don’t get it.”
“Well, beef, for example, uses about sixty percent of all agricultural land globally, but only yields about five percent of its protein.”
“So we just stop eating beef?” Kimba asks. “Don’t take my Jack in the Box, Maxim.”
Everyone laughs, including me because Kimba’s straightforwardness is so authentic and irresistible.
“I don’t tell people they should stop eating meat,” I say. “But eating more chicken than beef is a great start, and buying deforestation-free meats is a huge help, too.”
“Also, methane is produced by cow manure and the stomachs of cattle,” Wallace adds. “That’s a heat-trapping gas, right, Doc?”
“Don’t call me Doc.”
The sharp comment pinpricks the good humor in the room, leaving behind an awkward silence. We were all getting along so well, until the good doctor had to put in his two cents. I don’t know if I’ll ever like him the way Lennix wants me to.