Mikkel wore a pair of board shorts but his torso was on display too. His arms and shoulders, hell, his spine, were just one long ripple of muscle. Just watching him reach for his shirt on the floor had her sitting up straighter so as not to miss one single aspect of the show.
She really wished she could see his ass, but it was most definitely covered by those shorts of his.
Determined to burn them at some point, she watched as Rafe riffled through a dresser on one side of the room.
“When did that happen?” she asked, blinking at the sight.
“When did what happen?” Rafe asked absently.
“Who unpacked?”
“The maids. When we arrived. Rosa told us last night,” Mikkel inserted as he scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw. The sound of the bristles was definitely audible. “I should shower.”
“We all should shower.”
“But breakfast,” Rafe bleated. “We need food first.”
Thalia laughed. “You can’t be starving after what we ate on the plane last night.”
“Can’t I?” he groused. “We’re still growing.”
Mikkel snorted. “I’m not.”
“True. You’re just unfortunate.”
“When do you stop growing?” Mikkel asked. “My brothers aren’t going to get taller than me, are they?”
Amused at the outrage in his tone, she murmured, “I doubt it. Rafe doesn’t mean we’ll get bigger.”
“Thalia might. She’s young enough.”
Waving that off, she answered, “We’re still developing. Muscle wise.”
“Which means?”
Rafe snickered. “That they might not get taller than you, but your brothers might be able to beat your ass.”
“Well, we can’t be having that,” Mikkel retorted, pounding his fist into his palm.
“I wouldn’t worry. When we bond, you’ll get some tricks up your sleeve.”
His ears pricked up at that. Like, literally. If ears could move, they totally moved. “What kind of tricks?”
“Didn’t you notice your mother grew stronger when she mated your stepdad?”
“I was only a kid, I didn’t notice shit outside of what she fed me and that I had a new dad. Also, that they disappeared a lot in their bedroom,” he tacked on wryly.
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, she’ll have been stronger, faster. She won’t age either. Not like humans do. Won’t get ill…”
“Basically, everything they say in Hollywood is true,” Rafe mumbled as he dragged on a T-shirt, covering the lushness that were his abs. Fuck, it was a crime for either of them to wear shirts. Ever.
“Everything?”
“Well, aside from the silver shit.”
“I already knew that.”
“How did you know that?”
He winced. “You don’t want to know.”
“Sure, I do.”
He rubbed his chin. “Another time. But I know silver doesn’t hurt Lykens.”
“Nope. Not that we’re infallible. We can still die. Just, it’s usually of old age.”
Thalia shook her head. “Silver might be folklore, but mercury isn’t.”
Rafe frowned. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“It’s old lore. I read it in one of the books from the TriAlpha collection.”
“A book on weaponry or healing?” he asked, curious.
“Healing. Next time we’re there, I’ll show you the section,” she told him, amused at the gleam of fascination in his eye.
“Why mercury?” Mikkel asked, breaking into the torrent of questions Rafe was about to spew.
“I don’t know,” she admitted on a shrug. “I just read that the silver is an old wives’ tale but mercury isn’t.”
“Well, it’s poisonous to all creatures. It makes more sense than silver. Although, no bullet is good for a Lyken’s health. Be it of gunpowder, silver, or mercury,” Rafe intoned.
“I wonder what will happen because of the TriAlpha bond though,” Mikkel murmured pensively. “Maybe it will make you impervious to even mercury. Rafe couldn’t telepathically communicate before, could he? So that’s a new trick. Why wouldn’t there be more of them?”
“It’s definitely new,” Rafe murmured, his tone as dry as the Sahara. “But it’s useful.”
She rubbed at an itch on her arm. “You’re human. You’re limited to the extras you can get as a perk.”
“That’s not fair,” he said, pouting, but from the twinkle in his eyes, she knew he was teasing.
“Are you staying in there all day or are we going for breakfast?” Rafe demanded, sounding grouchy. And she’d learned he only sounded grouchy if he was hungry.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she retorted, then blinked when, seconds after scampering out of the netting, a dress was flung at her. She caught the ball in her hands before it fell to the floor.
“I take it I’m wearing this?” she asked wryly, throwing it overhead—she’d gone to sleep in her bra and panties. Then, as she stared down at herself, she grumbled, “Where did this even come from?”
“Didn’t you listen to anything Rosa said last night?” Mikkel asked.
“No. Apparently not.”
“They stocked it with clothes for you. And considering your wardrobe is limited, that’s probably useful,” Rafe murmured. “Now, you’re covered. Can we eat at last?”
Laughing, because less than three minutes ago, he’d been fast asleep on the bed, she nodded and headed toward him, Mikkel at her back as they approached the door. Pulling it open, she jerked back in surprise at the sight of her grandmother.
Who was pleating her hands together.
Rosa was not the pleating sort.
“Nanna?”
“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake.”
“Have you been waiting for us?” Thalia asked, confused as to why Rosa would have been pacing outside her door.
“Not for long.”
“How long?” She peered down the hallway. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s here to see you.”
“Someone?” Mikkel demanded, his tone cooling as he gently pushed Thalia through the door. “Who, Rosa?”
“He’s an old friend of your grandfather.”
Thalia relaxed a little, not that she’d been riled up, but she knew Mikkel was bristling. His protective instincts apparently on red alert. “Well, sure. I mean, I don’t know why he’d want to meet me, but—”
Rosa grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers. “You do what you want, Thalia. Do you hear me? Your grandfathers promised me last night that they’d fight for your free will.”
That had her jerking back in surprise. “Free will?” She turned back to look at her mates who looked both perplexed and pissed off. Two guesses as to which of them was pissed. “Why would my free will be in question?” She laughed at how silly the question sounded, but Rosa’s tense features didn’t relax.
Her beautiful almond eyes were wide with tension as she whispered, “I don’t know. He won’t say. Just says that he needs you. Or at least, Louis won’t tell me. He might not want to concern me.”
“Seems it’s too late for that,” Mikkel snapped, “you’re already concerned.”
Rosa nodded. “I-I’ve never met one before.”
“One what?” Rafe asked, stepping up to Thalia and cupping her shoulders, drawing her back against him for support.
“A Fae.”
And like that, Thalia wasn’t so sure the day was going to be as good as she’d figured just five minutes before.
** **
Theodore
“Honestly, I’m not an ogre,” Theo groused into his orange juice. The way they were looking at him, he was starting to feel like a pariah.
As one, Louis, Ade, and Matthew jolted in their seats.
Sighing, Theo mumbled, “You didn’t always used to be such pussies.”
Louis coughed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m not here to terrorize you. I’m here
for your help.”
“No, you’re here for our granddaughter,” Matthew retorted, his brow crinkling with distress. “And what are we supposed to do? How can we protect her against your kind?”
Theo pursed his lips. “Didn’t you tell them what I said about making her a Queen? Does that sound like I’m going to hurt her?” Exasperated about covered it, but he withheld the waspish words that longed to fall from his lips.
He’d catch more bees with honey. Or, he supposed, more Wolves with a rare piece of steak.
“In my experience, being Queen isn’t painless,” Ade rumbled. “Rosa hated it. And I’m not entirely sure my daughter-in-law enjoys it either.”
“Well, I can’t help that. Preferences being what they are, it’s a personal opinion. But physically, they’re safe, aren’t they?”
“Safety is also relative. In the public eye, they’re always in danger.”
“Yes, because Thalia can’t handle herself, can she?” Theo said on a hiss. “I didn’t just watch her annihilate a man twice her weight, twice her apparent strength, and older than her by a good two decades.”
“He has a point.”
Theo nodded at Matthew. “Thank you.” He took another sip of his juice. “You were friends before, and friends you shall remain. I am here with not a single intention of causing you pain. Or Thalia,” he quickly amended.
Louis, who’d been playing at eating his cereal, put his spoon down. “We can ask for no other assurances.”
Theo studied the men who, to a one, all appeared the same, and yet, were entirely different. Theo supposed that was his magic helping him, but he also thought they each wore their personalities well.
Though they were all dark, tall, stacked with muscle, and with olive skin that aged well, their individual characteristics set them apart.
Matthew, the politician, had a more mobile mouth—a born orator. Louis, the strategist, had more lines on his forehead, and he had a tendency to rub his temples like there was a perpetual ache gathering there. Ade’s hands were fluid, they shifted and danced as he spoke, punctuating his words in a way that spoke of creative flair.
So, while their eyes were all the same shade of cerulean, and their noses were all Roman and their mouths wide, they were easy to set apart.
Ade scraped his knife against his plate as he set the cutlery down. “We only just got her back.”
“You mentioned this last night,” Theo remarked, aiming the comment at Louis, who shrugged.
“She’s an only daughter. Not a set of triplets, Theo. You can’t imagine her childhood was easy.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not her fault.”
“No. But neither did our sons know what to do with her.” Matthew’s mouth tightened. “Her unique situation created circumstances that they believed necessitated…”
When the other man broke off, Theo prompted, “Necessitated…?”
“A form of house arrest,” Louis gritted out, shoving his napkin on the table as he pushed his chair back in an explosive burst of energy.
Theo frowned. “House arrest? Like a prisoner?”
“Has your English suddenly failed you?” Louis demanded, stacking his hands on his hips as he leaned back against one of the tall windows that acted as the exterior wall of the breakfast room where they were eating.
Theo placed his arms on the cool glass of the dining table. “No. But you can forgive me, surely, for not understanding why a child would have her behavior… limited? I’m also surprised as to why you allowed this to happen. You’re not exactly the shy and retiring type.”
“Against the TriAlpha, there is no point in fighting. If anyone knows that, we do.” Matthew’s tone was somber.
“Explain,” Theo commanded.
“Their will is written into the fabric of our universe,” Ade murmured gently. “There is no disobeying that kind of law.”
“You mean, your Gods power you?” Having never understood the ways in which the TriAlpha were powered, this information was more than intriguing.
“Aye,” Louis said grimly. “For good or ill, they empower us and strengthen us in ways that I can’t, not even to a Fae, explain. It is impossible to describe. Only someone in that position can possibly understand.”
Theo murmured, “You’d be surprised at what I can understand.” Far more than they could even begin to comprehend.
“I’m sure. But as we have no words to describe or even to quantify how we gain our powers, there’s little use in trying,” said Matthew abruptly. His head tilted to the side. “They’re coming.”
Louis nodded, then he approached the table, his seat, which had fallen against the floor moments before, was quickly righted and he took his place.
Eying this, as well as Ade’s picking up of his paper as though they hadn’t just been in a deep discussion about the hows and whys of the TriAlpha’s rule, Theo stared at the door, just waiting for Thalia to enter the room.
When it opened, he saw Rosa first. She was close to frantic with nerves. He’d known her many years ago, and though time had changed her slightly, it hadn’t altered her character. She was as strong, as vivacious as ever. Which was why her sudden fear perplexed him.
Did their knowing his true nature truly change things in their eyes?
The Fae didn’t have a bad reputation. He’d always hidden behind his glamor because to live in the human world, he’d had no choice. But had he realized the effect it would have on other supernaturals, Theo realized he’d have had no choice but to hide then as well.
Determined to learn why the Lykens were so scared of the Fae, he almost missed Thalia’s first steps into the room. Her pace was strident, her body language non-aggressive, but she leaned forward in a way that made him think she was eager… What had Rosa told her?
Her white blond hair had been tossed up into a messy topknot, and tendrils curled and unfurled about a face that, not unlike Helen of Troy, would launch a thousand ships.
Of the many hundreds of thousands of females he’d seen in his life, he knew he’d never seen a face like that.
It settled on him. Searing into his memory banks, sparking life into his retinas, imprinting her there until he knew, point blank, she’d be the last thing he’d ever see when his ancestors eventually did call him home.
Her gaze, casting about the room for someone—he thought she sought him out—came to a stuttering halt when those ice blue orbs hovered over him.
For a second, there was silence.
It seemed to grow, ever pervasive, spreading through the room, dragging with it time as it too stood still. Waiting, hovering, quivering in response to the first clash of their eyes. Then, it broke. With a breath. A single breath.
It burst from her lungs, slipped from her lips… and Theo felt it.
All those feet away, and he felt it.
Like it gusted over his mouth, like they breathed the same air.
She trembled. Her body quaked, and behind her, a man, scowling now, came up to her. She didn’t turn her head, didn’t need to know the identity of the male to trust, implicitly, that he would hold her upright. Theo watched as she sank back against him, allowed the other male to take her weight, to support her.
With approval in his eyes, Theo climbed to his feet. The chair scraped against the tile floor, making the frozen tableau shatter into a million pieces, but he ignored it. Instead, he stood there tall and proud. His hand sliced upward, diagonally cutting through the air. Making a fist, he pressed the curled fingers to his heart and made a deep bow, their eyes trapped the whole while.
She blinked, swallowed thickly, but before she could say a word, he declared, “Theodore Gabriel Sidhe, your highness.”
“Thalia Lyndhoven,” she whispered, and as he focused on her, he saw how her pupils were blown.
Full bloom.
Her hand, quivering, moved out. Theo watched as it found another’s, the fingers clasping hers tightly as a second male made himself known. The two men couldn’t have been more different.
One Hispanic in heritage, the other Scandinavian—or, at any rate, with some Viking in his veins.
Theo licked his lips at the sight of the three of them.
“My mates,” Thalia whispered, her voice close to inaudible as she saw the location of his regard. “Mikkel and Raphael.”
His lips curved. “We are your angels.”
She coughed. “Excuse me?”
He motioned. “Mikkel. Another name for Michael, no? Archangel—Michael was the leader of God’s army. Raphael. Archangel—the healer. Gabriel. Archangel—the messenger.”
He knew he’d staggered her because she slumped hard against the male at her back and the other gripped a tight hold of her arm to keep her upright.
“Thalia!” Rosa cried, rushing forward but Theo declared:
“No! Still!”
And like that, the room ceased moving. The heartbeats slowed to the smallest of lulls, oxygen trickled in and out of lungs which moved in the tiniest of increments...
“What have you done?” Thalia demanded, her voice hoarse as she glanced around the room and took in the exaggerated motions her grandparents were making.
Matthew’s orange juice went down so slowly, they could see it disappear wave by wave.
“Created privacy,” he replied, unapologetic, when she gaped at the myriad tasks her family were performing that took a lifetime.
“Privacy? What for? What the hell’s going on, Thalia?” the Norseman at her side bit off.
“H-He’s…” Her mouth worked. “But this can’t be. All three? At once?”
Theo jerked his chin up. “It’s unexpected. That I agree.”
Her eyes widened. “You came for me. Why?”
“Because, as my name attests, I have a message for you. The Fates have a tricky way of making the impossible seem sensible.”
“Thalia, sweetheart, talk to us. What’s going on?” the man at her back asked quietly, kindly. He was the healer, Theo realized. The Norseman, aggressive and bristling, was a fitting Mikkel.
“I am Thalia’s mate,” he said, his lips curving as he caught her eyes with his once more. “Aren’t I?”
She nodded, slowly. “T-This feels different.”
“It will. I’m Fae. Not human or Wolf,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring as he discerned the scents in the room.
Triskele (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 2) Page 18
