Shadows and Shade Box Set

by Amanda Cashure

“No,” I answer him, then accept a roll stuffed with some kind of bright red berry that I hope isn’t about to kill me.

  “It’s new, and Roarke says –”

  “What does Roarke say?” Roarke says, cutting Seth off.

  I turn sharply to meet the AllureSeed’s dark eyes. His long hair is pulled back in a neat bun with a few strands broken free around his face. He looks like he’s washed his face and brushed his hair, but his clothes haven’t changed. Roarke’s focus is deep and intense, and damn, I want him.

  He steps into the building and meets my gaze, a look of relief relaxing his features before his attention settles on my arm. I’m cradling it again, and it aches – like I hauled hay bales all day and the weather’s turned bone-cold – but not badly enough for the serious look that falls over him. His shoulders tense as he crosses the distance.

  “Sorry,” I begin, because damn, that’s exactly how I feel.

  He stops suddenly and asks, “Why?” His tone is soft and then buried under Killian’s voice.

  “Yes – why?” Killian demands.

  I didn’t see him arrive, but he’s suddenly right beside Roarke. I’d step back, but the kitchen bench is behind me, which kind of makes escape impossible. Killian steps in close and shoves two things at me, my knife – now in its sheath – and my dart-cuff – with all five darts cleaned and polished. I wrap my good arm around them, almost losing my roll in the process. And now both my arms are full, and eating my roll is impossible anyway.

  “Sorry,” I echo.

  He growls at me, leaning in close to grab the collar of my shirt.

  “Wear them in their sheaths or I’ll embed them into your thigh. Your choice.”

  I swallow hard, and thank chuck Roarke changes the subject, asking, “What do you remember?”

  “Not much,” I say. Remembering what we did so we can do it better next time would have been the beginning of a smart idea. “The last thing I really remember is you grabbing my arm,” I grumble at Killian.

  “Nothing else?” Roarke asks.

  “What should I be remembering?”

  My mouth fills with a bitter taste, and I roll my tongue around trying to work out what it is, before realizing that’s not helping.

  “What did you put on my roll, Seth?”

  “Jam.”

  “Then why has it made my taste buds pinch and sting?”

  “Like it’s bitter?” Killian asks.

  “You gave me bitter jam?” I demand, but why doesn’t that surprise me. Bitter jam is right up Seth’s alley.

  “It’s not the jam,” Roarke says.

  But at the same time Killian lets go of my shirt, pokes me in the forehead, and growls. “Stop using my power.”

  “What emotion tastes bitter?” I ask, getting another poke for my effort.

  Roarke’s brow furrows thoughtfully before he says, “Indecision.”

  Which stops my tumbling thoughts. “What’s there to be indecisive about?”

  “No.” Killian grabs my bad arm from its half-cradled, half-holding weapons position.

  He pulls it toward him, making the rest of me stagger forward too, and everything I was holding falls to the ground.

  “Ouch,” I hiss. “That’s attached to me.”

  He’s smiling at it – ignoring the rest of me.

  “Does this hurt?” he asks, digging his thumb in hard.

  “Yes, Killian. Stop it.”

  I buckle, and Seth has to catch me before I end up on my knees. The two of them are similar in height, which leaves me dwarfed between them.

  Killian works his thumb along the muscle, each movement stabbing pain deeper through me. Then he tosses my arm away.

  “She’s fine,” he says, and he sounds rather pleased with himself. “The bone’s solid. Her muscles are protesting the healing. Another mortal flaw.”

  Seth pulls me back; the muscles of the arm that he has wrapped around me are solid and securing, but his other hand slides under my shirt and settles softly against my stomach. It’s calming and centering.

  “So, she did heal herself?” Seth asks, and I know he’s smiling even without looking at him.

  I straighten, taking a big step away from Darkness and his evil half-smile.

  “It took a lot of power. You pulled from Killian and me, and it was,” Roarke hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck, “intoxicating. If Pax hadn’t intervened, we – we were getting dangerously close.”

  “Pax intervened?” I ask.

  Seth loosens his grip around me, a little at first like he’s testing my ability not to fall over. But now that Killian isn’t trying to torture me, standing isn’t a problem. He seems to realize that and scoops my roll back off the floor. He brushes his hand over it – then offers it back to me.

  I try to wave it off, but all three of them fix me with glares that make it obvious this conversation is only going to continue once I’m eating. So I take it and bite. I don’t care that it’s been on the ground, or that it may or may not be bitter, because to be honest, I am hungry-as-bralls.

  “Pax might work, though?” Seth suggests. “Now that she knows how to heal – he might be able to push more power into her without taking so much out?”

  “No.”

  Roarke nods. “I’m with Killian. Pax is just as likely to, ah, lose himself, and once she had control of my power, she latched on to Killian pretty instinctively.”

  “I did? Have you three forgotten I’m here?” I demand. “How about I just don’t get hurt again?”

  Killian grunt-chuckles, then crouches to grab the weapons. Suddenly, my pants ankle is yanked up, and he’s slapping the leather against my shin.

  “This stays on,” he growls, tightening it in a well-practiced heartbeat before standing up. “And put this in your pocket,” he adds, shoving the knife back into my hands.

  “Roarke,” Pax shouts down the stairs.

  “What’s his problem?” Roarke asks, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Bubble’s still shrinking,” I admit, holding my hand up as if answering him requires some kind of permission.

  All eyes are on me again. The rhythm of Pax coming down the stairs is impatient, like there’s more thumps than there needs to be before he joins us. The small stack of Eydis’ clothes – the ones I seem destined to claim – are in his arms, and he dumps them on the floor.

  I groan. They were clean.

  “Fix these,” he tells the guys.

  The image of my clothes laid across the bed and Pax, or more accurately Thane, rolling and rubbing all over them pops into my mind. I mean, maybe the guy needed to use the toilet as Seth said, or maybe he just wanted to act like a giant puppy. At least it was my clothes and not the massive piles of Brahman shit the manor mutt, Chomp, would stink of.

  “Show me,” Pax says.

  This is both getting old and at the same time more and more horrifying. I pace across the room with Seth counting each step out loud.

  “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

  “Why?” Roarke pulls his bun in frustration, but no one else jumps in with answers, so he keeps talking. “It’s got no pattern. Day or night. Unrelated to environmental factors. It’s like every time she sleeps, she wakes up with less steps.”

  “I volunteer to keep her awake,” Seth says.

  Roarke opens his mouth, then closes it again.

  “Or it’s a slow piece of Logan’s potion reacting to her after being messed up by Seth,” Pax says, waving me across to him. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before adding, “Roarke, Killian, upstairs.”

  Roarke doesn’t say anything, taking the steps two at a time with Killian right behind him.

  “Stay with Seth,” Pax whispers in my ear.

  I don’t argue. A part of me doesn’t want to be stuck in the bubble conversation again anyway.

  Seth leans in exactly where Pax was and says, “Stay with me.”

  I shove him away. “I am. Don’t make me regret it.”

  �
�You’ll never regret it,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. First on the spot as he talks, then around the room, grabbing strewn items of clothing. “That’s one of my missions in life.”

  “What are the others?” I ask, helping him make a pile out of all the clothes in the room.

  “Keep those guys alive, always have a bottle of liquor close by, rate every object taller than me based on climbability. Never wear the same braies for two weeks straight. Treat Logan like my walking, talking toy. Use the left end of a loaf of bread first just because left things get left out, and accept that Killian’s never going to get over that one time I burnt his hair off. And more. It’s a long list.”

  And a weird one. I pull a face at his back, a cross between being annoyed because I’m sure he did all of those things just to poke fun at me, and ridiculous, with my tongue sticking out and my eyes crossed. None of which he sees.

  And since he isn’t looking at me, I take my first opportunity to look at my arm. It still hurts, the kind where I instinctively keep it close and motionless, and without confirmation, I’d think it’s still broken. But it hurts less than yesterday, less than when I woke up, even.

  I follow him, because I have no choice, as he grabs the things off the steps and tosses them beside the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m doing the laundry.”

  “Do you know how to do laundry?” I ask him, serious and dumbstruck at the same time.

  “Yes, Vexy, I can wash clothes and lots of other things too,” he says, running a hand through his silky hair.

  He has gold strands that glint in the light. All of my guys have nice hair. I’m definitely jealous.

  “And what are they doing upstairs?”

  “My guess is it’s boring and it involves numbers, facts, or more books.”

  As I suspected, more bubble conversation.

  I gather up an armful of clothes and get two steps through the door with him close behind before stopping.

  “You’d better go first,” I say – because honestly I’m not entirely sure how many steps I’ve got before I get knocked on my ass.

  Seth moves around me with his own armful of clothes and leads the way to the back of the house, where we find a woodshed, hot-water heating by a coal pit, and several vats for various tasks requiring getting things wet.

  He dumps everything into one of the vats. It’s really only big enough for one or two sets of clothes, or more likely robes, from the person who used to live here, so Seth’s armful spills over the sides with absolutely no room for mine. I drop mine on the ground – they’re about to be washed anyway.

  I try my best not to glance over my shoulder at the boulders, but three whole seconds later, I’ve given in.

  “We buried her,” Seth says softly.

  I swallow, nodding. “I know.” Doesn’t make that particular spot any less fear-inducing.

  To battle falling into the emotion, I make myself busy getting wood for the small fire under the vat.

  After a few more logs, Seth turns the tap and lets the water start filling the vat. A handful of soap nuts and a paddle later, and we’ve got bubbles and the beginning of clean clothes.

  “So, what really happened while I was healing my arm? Because Killian and Roarke are both terrible liars. I’d have thought Roarke would be good at it. I already knew Killian was a bad liar when I had to call him my husband in the Lackshir Markets,” I say, as nonchalantly as possible, a soapy wet sock in my hand.

  Which is a big failure – the trying to be smooth bit. Not the sock, that’s looking lovely.

  Seth practically chokes on his laughter, tossing a pair of pants over the pen top rail beside us. They’re the pants with the criss-cross tie on the front, ones that I think will pull tightly enough to fit me, and I decided a few days ago that I’m going to steal them off Seth. Making them my pants, technically.

  I adjust my pants – making sure they’re going to dry properly – while he picks up a shirt and starts scrubbing.

  “I don’t think I’m the best person to try and explain it. I stayed outside,” he says, but there’s a strain to his tone that hints at this story being more complicated.

  I clench and unclench my fist again. It aches, but whatever happened, it was worth it – for me.

  Doesn’t mean it was worth it for the others.

  I open my mouth to apologize or something similar, but Seth hooks a soapy finger under my chin and gently closes it. He runs his thumb over my cheek.

  “They’re big boys, Vexy. Don’t waste your energy worrying about the people who should be worrying about you.”

  He smiles softly, leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. Soft is a look I really like on Seth.

  “Pax might be number One, but I’m number Two – don’t forget it,” he whispers, then his lips are on mine.

  Not a planned thing, just maybe like we were standing too close, and the logical way to move this moment on was to lean in even closer.

  I don’t care why – only what. Just the feeling of intoxicating happiness that tickles across my lips.

  World gone.

  Worries gone.

  Breath gone.

  His kiss is gentle and far too short. When he pulls away, I try to chase after him, lifting to my toes and leaning forward.

  He laughs.

  “Careful now, mortal,” he says, running his tongue over his lips. “You still taste really good – let’s not have you stripping your clothes off out here in the open.”

  Not what I was planning to do – so I slap him in the face with my wet sock, leaving a trail of bubbles from his hair down to his jaw.

  Those brilliant blue eyes light up, and before I can react his arms are around me, and he’s hoisting me in the air.

  “Possibly the dirtiest thing I own,” he chuckles.

  “Seth, no,” I squeal and squirm.

  I was wrong when I said the vat was big enough for one set of clothes. Pretty sure it’s big enough for a person to be stuffed into. He swings my legs up, cradling me, and Killian’s blade slips straight out of my pocket, then he lowers my ass into the almost hot and very soapy tub.

  “Seth,” I gasp as my clothes soak up the water.

  And I’m stuck. Ass in, legs hanging over the edge, back pressed hard against the steel. I’m not getting out of here without help.

  Seth, smiling about as broadly as the guy can, leans in and pokes my chest.

  “This one’s see through,” he says.

  And he’s chuckin’ right.

  I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him, biting my lip and trying to convince myself I’m purely embarrassed, definitely indignant, and a whole lot disappointed that I’m the only one revealing what’s under my clothes.

  “Game’s over. Get me out!”

  I’m not a hundred percent sure what’s about to come out of his mouth, but he’s still smiling, so I’m pretty sure whatever it is, is going to be something I don’t want to hear.

  “Seth,” I say sweetly, smiling and fluttering my eyelashes back at him. “If you don’t get me out of here, something bad is going to happen.”

  He just keeps laughing at me!

  I don’t have a single idea how I can get my revenge while I’m stuck in here, but I will have my revenge. No one can escape me, not even Jake could, and he had years more experience than this man. Years worth of me putting dye in the washing up liquid or stitching the toes of his socks together. The right opportunity and my revenge will be hot enough to burn you, Seth.

  Flames shoot out from underneath the vat, latch on to his pants leg, and start devouring the fabric. Red dances along the black linen as if it’s alive.

  My eyes are wide with shock. His eyes go wider, then he starts jumping around, trying to bash at the flames. Which doesn’t work. After a breath, he pulls at the tie on the waist and drops his pants to the ground, then stomps and stamps on the things to try and put them out.

  But I’m not looking at his pants an
ymore. Couldn't really care what’s on the ground on fire because all of my focus is on his crotch – clearly the guy had no clean braies left.

  I’ve seen his ass before. He has a habit of not caring where he gets dressed. And I’ve slept naked with Roarke and Pax. But that’s nothing compared to seeing his jewels dance and jiggle around.

  Jiggle and bounce.

  Everything really does just flop about.

  “Vexy,” he gasps as he stamps the last flames out of his ruined pants, stopping his dancing and just staring at me.

  I try to stare back – at his eyes, that is. Even if all I want to look at is his naked bottom half. “I didn’t do it!”

  “Bralls, yes, you did,” he says, slowly catching his breath. Then his lips pull into a broad smile. “And you enjoyed it.”

  “You just said bralls!” I exclaim.

  Even in the decade I lived and worked alongside Jake, he never, not once, said bralls.

  Seth’s eyes go wide. “Bralls,” he repeats slowly, like he’s trying it on for size. Then he shakes his head with mock determination. “Not sure why, but it still sounds ridiculous.”

  I chuckle at him, my arms and legs flailing around uselessly in an effort to escape the vat again. To be honest, I have two pretty big problems right now. The first is that his shirt is barely covering his jewels, and the second is that I am barely managing not to stare at what he’s got. Which surprises the bralls out of me, because I was thinking I’d be more of a-pretend-it’s-not-there kind of girl. Not a stare and gasp kind of girl. I’ve had Pax’s arms around me while the guy’s been naked a few times, and yeah, they’re all sexy as hell, but this moment with Seth is somehow different. Staring at Seth’s junk feels like the natural next step in this whole situation.

  Instructions on how to do the laundry: step one – get everything wet. Step two – set the Seed of Chaos’ pants on fire. Step three – stare at the one part of him that is making the wettest parts of me even wetter.

  Note to self – doing laundry is a dangerous chore… Also, at this rate, everyone will be wearing wet and only partially cleaned clothes.

  Because I just want to stare at Seth. All of Seth.

  I’m not sure that’s possible? Can I be interested in Pax’s eyes and the way he sinks his teeth into me and be unable to pull my gaze from his expression, then with Seth be hyper-aware of a totally different body part? A girl should fall in love with one guy, and not several, and then if she falls for several, shouldn’t she love them all equally?