“Gravity,” I inform her.
“Oh,” she says. “Gravity’s nuckin’ chutz.”
Seth cracks up laughing, and we all just wait for him to get himself under control before asking, “What is a nuckin chutz?”
“What? No, not nuckin’ chutz, chuckin’ nuts.” And her eyes are closed again. She doesn’t react at all to all of us laughing at her.
Pax chooses this moment to wander through the door, latching it quietly behind him before scanning over the room and spotting his mate on the floor.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice measured.
I point at Seth.
“Don’t look at me! We were asleep when he came in,” Seth says, pointing at Killian.
“Shhhh,” Shade whispers from the floor, flapping an arm around as if to shoo us away. “I’m trying to sleep.”
The sound of her voice makes Pax relax. He crosses the room, scoops her up, and carries her upstairs. The calm on his face hints that he’s more than happy to spend the night next to her. It contrasts with the tense set to his shoulders and the thump of his boots on each step – which I’m going to guess means Thane has been pushing his boundaries again. Or maybe Pax is reaching the end of his own patience.
Aeons, we all are.
If the woman wasn’t interested, we’d turn away. All of us respect the word ‘no.’ That would make life so much easier.
Oddly, I’m pretty sure it would actually make me more miserable.
Easier – yes. Happier? No.
And now we wait – to see what steps she has left in the morning. This could be a good time to fill Seth in on the line Darkness was hiding – that topic could be nicely distracting.
Five Paces
Pax and Seth talking right beside the bed slowly wakes me up. I roll over to eyeball them with an it’s-too-early-to-be-opening-my-eyes moan. A person should sleep until well after the sun’s up. Which is not a luxury I’ve always had, but one I’m determined to foster. Contrary to the time that these guys like to rise and shine.
Seth smiles, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on my face. “Go back to sleep, then.”
I push the pillow away and find Pax’s face right in front of mine. He moves in, presses a soft kiss to my lips, then retreats. “I’ll be outside.”
“Why?” Why is he leaving?
“Jada is waiting down stairs.”
“What? She’s still here?” I demand, though I have no idea why that annoys the bralls out of me. Of course, she’s still here. I’ve been asleep, so for that matter Teegan could still be here and a dozen others could be here, which is the next thing that shoots out of my mouth. “Who else is here, and where are they, and where the chuck did they sleep?”
Pax gives me one more quick kiss before stalking from the room. His gentle demeanor sheds with each step, replaced by a cloak of control and command that he wears so easily. Like it’s been tailored to fit him perfectly, confident stride, powerful posture, don’t mess with me vibe.
It’s not until he’s out of the room that I can gather my thoughts and demand, “Seth, answer me?”
“Nowhere. Sabers don’t sleep.”
“They do sometimes. How do I know they didn’t need sleep!”
“Jada is the only other one still here. Rose and her team could have done with the rest, but there’s no way they were going to ask for it and no way Pax would let them in the house. They were short on time and long on crap to do, so they left.”
“Not them,” I press, there’s another Saber much more dangerous than Rose.
“Yes, Vexy, Teegan has left.”
I groan and throw the pillow at him.
With one punch he sends it flying back at me, wearing a big grin. I only just manage to catch it and completely miss my chance to get out of the way of his running jump.
He rolls straight over me.
The bed creaks, the mattress bounces, and I squeal. “Seth!”
Which makes him laugh. He lies back, linking his hands behind his head and taking up ninety percent of the space.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve moved in close, slipped my head onto his shoulder, and found the most comfortable position to sleep in. Little content moans fall between us. I can hear the muffled beat of his heart as the scent of sweet oranges fills my nose. He’s shaped so perfectly, and the only possibility is his shoulder was made specifically for me.
“Mallow,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
He slips one hand from behind his head and strokes it over my hair, then down to my shoulder. Tracing a long line to my elbow with the tip of his finger, then back up again.
“Other Sabers?” I force myself to ask.
“Zuri was supposed to meet us here, she’s a strong ally. You’d like her – a lot like Rose. Imogen and Kaia are still on assignments in the south and haven’t been brought up to speed at all.”
“Are there any male Sabers? Any?!” I would sound far more upset if I wasn’t so comfortable.
He chuckles. “Eliijah, Alerik, Miles, and Stone are all male triunes.”
I sigh with relief, which is a bit overdramatic.
“Roarke wants you in the attic as soon as you wake up – and he just took the last block of chocolate and a whole plate of fruit up there. I say we go steal it.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes – he did.”
I’m about to argue again – why would Roarke steal my chocolate? But this is Roarke we’re talking about, and the chocolate was in Seth’s bag, which technically makes it unclaimed in the eyes of his brother. Means there’s no time to waste.
I launch out of the bed and rush past Seth. Well, almost past Seth, he snags the corner of my shirt to halt my momentum.
“Is this a race?” he asks, yanking me back a step then overtaking me.
I rush to regain my lead and both of us burst to the top of the stairs in a fit of gasping giggles.
Roarke springs up from his cross-legged position on the floor, with a curious raised eyebrow and an unimpressed pinch to his lips. Not sure if he’s about to defend his space, chastise us like children – or both.
He has a plate of fruit cut into rough squares, along with several opened books, some kind of dried leaves, and a mug of a pinkish liquid that’s fizzing and popping.
The fizzing and popping steals my attention.
“What are you drinking?” I demand. It doesn’t look healthy.
He doesn’t answer, instead grabbing the front of my shirt – actually, it’s Killian’s giant oversized shirt – and dragging me around his mess over to the table, snatching a piece of chalk up with an air of intense urgency.
“What?” I demand, letting him manhandle me.
With one hand on my shoulder and the other on my hip he pushes my ass firmly against the table and says, “Pace.”
“Huh?” I ask, not moving.
“Your bubble,” Seth explains, leaning against the banister and crossing his feet over each other.
My heart sinks, remembering Roarke’s theory about sleep.
Roarke steps to the side, and I do as I’m asked. Counting each one very deliberately.
“One, two, three, four, five. Still five.”
The room sighs. Seth runs a hand through his hair, and Roarke turns to scrawl on the table top.
“If it’s not sleep, then what is it?” Seth asks.
Roarke goes back to his bubbling cup and open books, resuming his cross-legged position.
“It could be random, simply the magic running out, or it could link to something very specific that we haven’t thought of yet,” Roarke says.
Seth moves around the trashed room, picking up a bone quill and flipping it end over end as he inspects the fresh damage in here.
“This space gets worse and worse every day,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound surprised.
“So what is in the drink?” I demand, the thing is unnatural and unnerving.
“It’s not a drink. It’s a dissolvant. Works for low qual
ity protection wards, very low. Didn’t affect our ward, though,” he says, dropping three dried bright red flowers into the cup – then suddenly tossing it at me.
No warning.
Just tosses it.
I’m not even that close. Pretty sure he isn’t in my bubble, but the liquid splashes on my bare feet, dries to a thin crisp instantly, then cracks and crumbles away. All while I skip backwards to get as much space from Roarke as possible.
“What just happened?” I demand, feeling absolutely no effects except the fine powder now on my toes.
And boiling hot pissed-the-chuck-off gripping the pit of my stomach.
Seth takes a few steps back, and my wall takes me with him, then a few steps forward to give me my room back.
“Didn’t work,” Roarke drawls, putting the mug down and flipping to the next page in the book. “We need something stronger. An oil, maybe.”
“Nope, no oil. No more bubbling liquid either,” I declare, my tone between a growl and a shout. Both Elorsins look surprised, which they have no right to be. “I mean it – no more potions. If you think something will work, you ask me, and I get to do the cup tossing – got it?!”
“I think she’s upset,” Seth says.
“Damn right I am, no more chuckin potions, or there will be punishments.”
“Okay,” Roarke finally says, his brow drawn down like the idea goes against everything he thinks he has a right to.
First punishment, no fruit. I snatch up the small metal tray. It’s cold, balances nicely on one hand, and is soon relocated to the bench between Seth and me. Then I lean against the bench and pop a piece of banana in my mouth. I’d sit on the thing, the bench not the banana, but it’s littered with books propped open by all kinds of objects and an assortment of quills, all looking recently used. Seth still has a quill in his hand, and with the drama over he returns to flipping it end over end.
Roarke lowers his attention back to his books, and I up my game, asking, “Where’s the chocolate?”
“I ate it already,” Roarke says absently, not even looking up or acknowledging the importance of my question.
The nearest quill is in my hand and flying towards his ass in an instant. Not because I’m feeling murderous – sure looks like it though. My mouth drops wide, and I gasp as it arcs, then sinks right down the crack of his pants. A soft thunk escapes from the metal tip tapping the timber floor before the room explodes with his sudden jump, squeal, and dance – and laughter from the Chaos guy beside me.
Roarke reaches back to pull the quill out, and his eyes couldn’t be any wider if he tried.
I put a piece of apple in my mouth and chew it slowly, just soaking up his reaction.
“Don’t mess with a woman’s chocolate,” I drawl.
“Isn’t that like the number one rule, brother?” Seth asks.
“Yes, and number two is don’t admit to it while said woman is armed,” I say.
“You weren’t armed, and I’ll buy you more.”
“I’m always armed,” I say, flicking my pants up.
Which reveals my bare leg.
Damn, no darts.
Where the bralls did I put them this time?
Roarke looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Ask Killian. He took them off you last night.”
“Why?” I demand, a mix between disbelief and a little nervous he might not give them back.
I like them now, want them, feel a little naked without them.
I feel around my pockets, small blade in one and egg in the other.
“He thought you’d be more comfortable, I think,” Roarke says.
“So he was happy for me to sleep with hard steel in my pocket, but not with soft leather around my ankle?”
“I saw him polishing the leather. It didn’t look very soft anymore,” Seth counters.
“Softer than the damn knife,” I say, pulling the blade from my pocket.
It has a little loop on the end of the handle, and I pinch firmly with my thumb and forefinger to let the thing swing back and forth before sticking it back in my pocket.
“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Seth says, holding a quill out for me to take. It’s identical to the one in his hand with a long white feather and silver tip, and it feels perfectly weighted by the small silver bead that’s been threaded onto the end of the feather.
He starts flipping his end over end again, and without thinking, I do the same. Perfectly in time, while Roarke grabs at his Allure speed and darts around the room pulling down several jars and vials and setting them to his left. He doesn’t even notice us, or at least he doesn’t acknowledge us, silently sitting back in his spot. Without any kind of cue, we both toss our quills toward his ass crack.
Mine flies true, Seth’s veers off to the left, but neither of them hit their mark because Mr Moving-with-super-speed shifts to the right. The quills pierce his collection of supplies, shattering one jar in an explosion of red stuff, knocking the lid off another and releasing some kind of buzzing insect, and tipping over fine yellow crystals that immediately begin to dissolve in the red liquid and stain the floor orange.
Roarke jumps to his feet for the second time in ten minutes, though this time without the squeak. He bounds backwards toward me, arms out wide as the final splashes of orange settle across the room.
Once it’s clear nothing is going to go boom, he turns on Seth, true anger in his eyes.
“Seth,” he snarls. “You could have killed her!”
I swallow. “He could have?”
“I have no idea what he just made. I’ve never mixed that much of those ingredients together before and never without the crushed moonlight bugs. A few drops – that’s all I ever use, a few drops!”
Damn, he’s really upset.
I shrink. “Sorry.”
“Not you, him,” Roarke snaps, pointing sharply at Seth.
The big guy runs a hand through his hair, moving out from Roarke’s line of fire. “He’s right, it wasn’t supposed to go wrong, but it did. Even if it’s harmless now, potions are unpredictable. Masters design them for a reason. Sorry, Vexy.”
“I’m not the one mad,” I tell him, then notice the red splatters on Roarke’s shirt. I have no idea what that stuff is, but it was heading straight for me. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t my own fault though.
Seth scoops down, picking up the two quills, both of them stained a burnt orange color, and both of them now clearly his. He doesn’t break his stride, heading straight for the stairs.
“Well, I need a shower and a rather private moment on the toilet, so I’m going to go this way and leave you two with all of that,” he says, waving an exaggerated hand to indicate that both Roarke and me are all of that. “Before I make more of a mess.”
His posture, the sag to his shoulders, and even the flat tone to his words, are all too much to bear.
“I still love you though,” I call at his back, which makes him freeze mid-stride, swivel carefully, and meet my gaze. As if looking for sincerity before his lips pull back into a huge smile.
Crap! Can he see how hard my heart is hammering – because where the chuck did those words come from?
I meant every syllable, but I hadn’t meant to say them out loud. Damn mouth!
He lifts one of the stained quills to his lips, kisses it, then blows the kiss across to me. “Always,” he says, then retreats so fast I’m pretty sure the word was a slip of his tongue too.
He’s gone, and I damn near can’t breathe.
Roarke smiles down at me, giving me a distraction from the empty staircase.
“He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”
“What makes you think that?” I ask, well try to ask, it’s part gasp really.
“Because you’re holding your breath. Those words meant a lot to you?”
Chuck yes, I want to say, but just manage a nod.
Roarke hooks a finger under my chin, trying to hold my gaze with a mix between curiosity and calm understanding written across his face.
I draw in a full solid breath, but my insides are still buzzing with Seth’s words.
“I like seeing you happy,” he says, then he snatches the plate from the edge of the bench and drags me over to sit down next to his stack of books. “But I have to focus, and if you’re in here with me, you have to focus too.” He holds his quill up, waving it a little to get my attention. “Not for throwing.”
I try to snatch it off him, which doesn’t work because the guy can move almost as fast as time.
“I thought it was perfect for it, actually.” I accentuate the ‘actually’ and playfully nudge him with my shoulder. The contact feels warm, desire-filled warm, and I’ll admit straight away that I want to do it again.
Or hug him. Or maybe even tackle him and pin him down.
He’s smiling and looking at me, but not at my hand or even my eyes.
His attention is all on my lips.
I run my tongue across them slowly, teasingly, and his smile tilts at the corners in response. He reaches across and presses his finger to my lips, and I gasp at the slip of heat from his skin to mine.
“Stop that, Kitten,” he says, turning slightly and angling his full attention at the books on the floor.
I giggle and glance over them. The scrawls are pretty enough, but meaningless.
“I like teasing you,” I decide.
“You don’t even have to try,” he says, his tone soft enough that he might actually be talking to himself, then he grips my chin and turns my face toward the books – and away from him. “Focus.”
I chuckle at him, but in truth his touch is more than welcome, even if it is only on my chin. And even if he does let go way too soon.
“So… you’ve been up here reading for hours on end and thought you could do with some chocolate to keep you going?” I ask.
He makes a, “Mm-hm,” kind of noise, using his finger to track where he is up to on the page.
Then, like he’s paying no attention to me, he slides his hand under the cover of the book and pulls out half a block of chocolate. I snatch it up, even though he’s clearly offering it to me. With a sideways kind of wink, he relinquishes it.
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 108
