Elf (Mystic Guardians #2)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A laric

Alaric heard someone in the kitchen, and since he knew both Bain and Finn were outside, it had to be Ezra, who’d been unnaturally quiet after he’d watched Alaric doing yoga that morning.

He walked into the kitchen to find Ezra with an open bottle of whiskey and a glass on the island counter.

“Want some?” Ezra asked as he lifted the tumbler and guzzled half its contents.

“No.”

“So stoic,” Ezra muttered half under his breath as he glared at Alaric. “Always on the job.”

“One would think you’d like that. Appreciate it because I’m keeping you safe.”

Ezra licked his lips then took another swallow of whiskey. “How are you going to keep me safe if more of those elementals show up?”

Just how much liquor had Ezra had? His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded, and his pupils were blown. Alaric felt a stab of concern at what had brought this on, though having a two-million-dollar hit out on a person would probably be enough. Was fear making him hit the bottle?

“What? No answer?” Ezra slurred the questions.

“Like I told you, this house is warded—they can’t get inside. And Finn stayed because he’s able to find them easier than we can.”

Ezra ran his finger through the drops of condensation on the counter. “Did you know I have only one friend? His name is Corbin. He’s the best. Puts up with so much.” He wiped his fingers on a hand towel, then picked his glass back up. “You said Finn is a jinn and Bain is a… basilisk? So Bain turns into a snake? That’s wild.”

Sheesh, the alcohol had Ezra’s brain bopping all over the place. “Part snake, part man. He’s actually quite a beautiful creature both ways.”

“Ever hit that?”

And Ezra was back in asshole mode. Good to know. Though Alaric did wonder what set him off. “No. Bain has always been just a friend. Like your Corbin.”

“How do you know we haven’t banged?”

“Suppose I don’t. It was just a guess.”

Ezra snorted. “You’re right. We never did. Corbin goes after big guys. The bigger, the better. He has this need to feel… Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be talking about his private business. It’s amazing he’s stuck around me as long as he has. No one else does.”

Alaric studied Ezra’s red cheeks and the half snarl on his lips for several moments before asking, “Have you ever considered that you purposely push people away?”

“Better that than to let them get close only to disappoint me.” He glared into the dregs of his glass. “Two whiskeys, and my tongue gets loose.” He swallowed the last bit and quickly poured another glass. All the way to the top.

So technically, he’d had more than two…

Alaric bit his tongue, not really wanting his client blackout drunk should something come here. He trusted the wards, but chaos could still happen. But the tense set of Ezra’s entire slim body told him nothing he could say would matter.

“Do you know that my father absolutely hated me?” These words were even more slurred than the ones before. “Hated my guts. Always did. I have no memories of him ever feeling differently—not even when I was small and still cute.”

Ezra could still be cute—if he kept his mouth shut. But Alaric didn’t tell him that.

“With Ezekiel, he was different.” Ezra swirled the amber liquid around, seeming almost mesmerized by it. “It’s not like he hugged my brother, either. Neither of my parents were physically demonstrative. But he was…nicer to him, and Ezekiel could do no wrong when it came to Mom.”

Alaric had a feeling there might have been more glasses of booze before he came in. More than Ezra had admitted to.

“This one time? I got a C on a test, and my father decided I needed a lesson. There was a freak snowstorm, and he drove me seven miles from the house and made me walk home. Did you know that frostbite can give you blisters? Because I didn’t. It can also leave lasting damage. When you healed me at Bran’s apartment building, you fixed a pain I’d had for most of my life, too. Did you know that?”

Alaric just nodded. He’d sent enough healing magic in to take care of everything for Ezra, and he’d sensed that old aching spot in his foot and ankle.

“Well, thanks. That seven-mile walk was absolute hell on earth. Got only got As after that. Not that it made a difference. My father still hated me. Thought I was weak.” He took a long swig of the whiskey, his hand unsteady as he set the glass back down on the island. “You want to know something crazy? I was still sad when he was killed. It still hurt. Don’t know why.”

“We love our parents, Ezra.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have given him even one tiny part of my heart, useless block of nothing that it is. Fucker didn’t deserve it. And then I get nearly beaten to death, and neither my mother nor brother came to see if I was okay. Some family I have, eh? My mother’s out of the country, but she could have come back.”

He went to pour more alcohol, but Alaric stepped in and took the bottle away. “You’re already going to feel like shit tomorrow, Ezra.”

“Probably right,” he garbled. “I should go back to bed.” He started walking that way, and Alaric followed. And immediately felt bad for noticing how tight and round Ezra’s ass looked in the pajama pants.

At the door, Ezra leaned against the jamb facing away from Alaric. He was silent for a time before he whispered, “You’re wrong, you know. I do have ambition and focus. Somewhere in here” —he thumped a hand on his chest—“there’s something meaningful.” He looked back at Alaric. “There has to be, right?”

With that, he stumbled inside and shut the door. Alaric stood in the hall for a long time. Shame burned hot in his chest.

Ezra had heard him talking to Finn that morning. He’d hurt the man’s feelings—and from what he’d said about his childhood, nobody had ever made him feel good about himself. A twisted tangle of anger and regret made Alaric nauseous. Anger over that snowstorm story and regret that he’d reduced Ezra to nothing more than a spoiled child, and that Ezra had heard it all.

He’d have to apologize. And maybe, just maybe, he’d been wrong about the man. Because the ache he felt in his chest told him that he hated making Ezra feel bad. And that maybe…he wanted to do the opposite.

Thoroughly confused, he walked to the room he was using, then changed his mind and went into the living room. Even though he wouldn’t need it, he tugged on a jacket and let himself outside to patrol with Bain and Finn.