Chapter 13 Stone by Stone
Casimir
She was in the bathroom, of course.
Sounds of soft, stumbling footsteps had reached my ears four minutes ago, then the closing of a door followed by water gurgling.
Despite being focused on Gregory and Mrs. Wentzel, I hadn’t missed a sound.
Now, staring at her bathroom door, my fangs pricked through my gums as I cataloged threats: Slippery tiles, unsecured cleaning chemicals, that moon-damned wolf’s nose just visible under the threshold.
Zane hip-checked me aside to set Seri’s breakfast tray on the window seat.
I placed my own tray on the dresser as I looked around, noting the lace curtains over the bulletproof windows. Blackout drapes would be better, but she needed sunshine.
Benefit-risk analysis on that later, I told myself.
“We need to sweep her room,” I muttered. “Electronics. Hidden compartments. Air vents.”
“You think Arabesque planted—”
“Seventy-seven percent likelihood of hidden cameras and listening devices everywhere,” I interrupted Ko.
“You think too damn much,” Zane muttered.
“This room gets swept twice daily.” I ground out. “She needs it to be a fortress.”
“What she needs is less of you turning her bedroom into a serial killer’s craft project.” Zane flopped onto the mattress, sending pillows scattering.
“When we were in the library…” Ko busied himself buttering Seri’s croissant.
“Secret passages?” Zane cut him off with excited eyes.
“Whole shelf of current bestsellers.” Ko stared at the butter knife. “Wonder if she reads. Maybe she’d like that.”
“We’ll ask her and bring some up here if she does.” I straightened Seri’s napkin.
“Translation: Casimir wants to baby-proof the whole manor before she steps foot out of her room.” Z rolled his eyes. “Oops. I mean fortress.”
Before an argument could break out, Brumous whined, claws clicking against tile as he pressed against the bathroom door.
Smelling his ‘nom-noms,’ most likely. Then the water cut off and, moments later, Seri emerged, still wearing Koa’s shirt, which swallowed her.
My brother’s scent caused something primal inside me to purr in approval at the claiming.
She shuffled out, yawning so wide it looked like her jaw might unhinge. Her movements were slow and shaky, as if every step took effort.
My chest tightened even as my jaw clenched.
She shouldn’t be that drained from peeing and washing up. Even a beating from the Harrow twins shouldn’t have wiped her out this badly. Something more was at play, and I was determined to find out what.
Her knees buckled on the third step.
Ko reached her first, but I caught her elbow. Zane appeared at her right side, hands hovering like she might dissolve. Brumous wiggled between our legs, nearly sending me face-first into her collarbone.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I snapped, steering her toward the mattress and glaring at the pup’s lolling tongue. “Letting that animal watch you in the bathroom?”
“He’s a wolf?” Seri blinked up at me innocently. “And a pup?”
“He’s a boy!” I grumbled, ignoring Koa’s snort ricocheting around the room. “He has no business in the bathroom with you!”
Zane let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying my irritation.
“Jealous the mutt got a front row seat and you didn’t? Relax, bro. It’s not like he was taking notes.”
I glared at him, but Seri was already settling onto the bed, her exhaustion evident in the way she sank into the pillows. Ko was quick to prop her up, arranging things with a gentleness that made me feel oddly inadequate.
Brumous circled our legs, sniffing curiously, and Zane crouched, holding a canapé out for the pup, who approached him cautiously.
“Who’s a good little apocalypse hound?” he cooed when Brumous’ pink tongue darted out and swept the food off of his fingers.
“Did you shower?” Ko quietly asked Seri.
“No, I was afraid to get the bandages wet.” She winced slightly, her fingers ghosting over her injured arm. “And it hurts.”
“It’s going to hurt for a while.” I kept my eyes on hers. “Still draining?”
The image of it flashed behind my eyes: Four-inch laceration, subcutaneous infection, necrotic tissue requiring debridement, eighteen sutures.
Clinical terms that couldn’t capture how the sight had shredded my soul last night.
And she’d been up here trying to deal with it alone while we’d been busy playing house with Gregory.
Gregory who was very clearly Arabesque’s little bitch.
I wondered how long before Zane realized it. Ko most likely had already figured it out. But once Z did…
Well, we have a massive estate now. Surely there’s a place to hide a body.
“There’s yellow stuff.” She worried her lower lip. “On the bandage. I was too scared to touch it.”
“Let me see.” Ko reached for her sleeve, and she flinched.
He froze, hand suspended. My little brother, who’d faced down a titan wraith without blinking, now looked ready to cry.
Or kill something.
“Pop quiz, Serafina.” Zane’s grin strained at the edges. “What’s the number one rule of wound care?”
“No picking scabs?” she tried.
“No suffering in silence.” He gave her a fake pout. “Zero points for you, buttercup.”
“We’ll look at it later,” I decreed as I adjusted her breakfast tray over her stretched-out legs.
We gravitated like moths, Zane commandeering the space to her left, Koa folding himself cross-legged at her feet, me anchoring the right flank. I filled her in on the staff as we ate, watching her face for any sign of discomfort at our proximity. She showed none, so long as we didn’t move too fast.
When Ko and Z talked about our tour of the manor, her eyes lit up, and enthusiasm cut through her fatigue.
Seeing that, we spared no details. Between bites of salmon and quiche, we painted Evermere in words.
Zane’s rendition featured secret tunnels and a moat stocked with piranhas that I had to step in and explain weren’t real when she excitedly asked to see them.
That earned us a disappointed pout, and I speared Z with a death glare.
Ko told her about the kitchen pantry, which was bigger than our old apartment, and the library archives. My own contributions, where I planned to install motion sensors and pressure plates, earned eye rolls from my brothers and blinks from our girl.
“I can’t wait to see the rest of the place,” she chirped, her voice gaining a little strength.
“Did you read the motto over the gates? A place beyond the hunt, where shadows rest and dawns endure. I love it. It’s like a promise of safety and hope.
Do you think…” Her eyes dropped to where her fingers plucked at her linen napkin. “Could that be true for me, too?”
The threadbare yearning in that whisper unraveled something hard behind my ribs.
“We’ll make it true,” I assured her.
Her smile hit like sunlight after eternal night, fragile, precious, and lethally disarming.
“Mrs. Wentzel mentioned there’s a fox den in the apple orchard. I thought you might enjoy watching the kits emerge in a few weeks.” Ko’s knuckles turned white around the butter knife, wary of showing her so much of his softness.
Saving him, Brumous let out a loud belch that reeked of salmon. Seri’s laugh came out hoarse, but real, warming the room better than any hearth.
Speaking of warm…
She kept rubbing her arms, shivering despite the adequate interior temperature.
I crossed the room to the wardrobe, my boots barely making a sound.
Inside, folded neatly, was a soft, cream-colored blanket.
I grabbed it, turned back to her, and unfurled it with a soft whoosh, fine merino wool whispering across her shoulders.
She startled at first, then her fingers found my wrist, her calluses catching on old scars.
“Thank you.”
Her second smile proved more devastating than I ever could have imagined. Small, soft, barely there, but I’d earned it. It was mine, and mine alone.
“Can I, um, ask a question?”
“Any time you want,” I assured her as I resumed my seat at her side.
“How often…” Her bottom lip trembled as her lovely gray eyes flooded with fear again.
Nothing. Nothing in my life had prepared me for the pure pain of seeing my beloved in distress.
“Serafina, we won’t hurt you,” I murmured, furious at my lack of skills in this area, a deficiency I would be correcting as soon as possible. “The beloved bond would not allow it even if we were so inclined. Which we aren’t.”
“I just was wondering how often you’ll, uh, need to feed from me.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, her pulse faster than a rabbit’s.
The courage it must have taken her to ask that left me breathless.
Then Zane’s loud laughter made her flinch like she was dodging a thrown stone. My hand shot out to cradle hers before I could think better of it and found her skin remained chilled despite the blanket’s warmth.
“Beloved, no,” Koa said gently, as if explaining rain to a parched flower, while I sat there speechless and Zane giggled to himself. “We’re not vampires. We don’t live on stolen blood.”
I caught the exact moment her fear converted to confusion, her eyebrows knitting together, lips parting in a soft ‘o’ of realization. The slow flush creeping across her neck fascinated me more than any battlefield stratagem ever had.
“So no biting?”
Zane waggled his eyebrows as he stole Koa’s orange juice. “Not unless you ask ni—”
“Finish that sentence,” I growled through clenched teeth, “and you’ll be healing your kneecaps again.”
#
The cards slapped against the duvet with more force than necessary. Zane’s tell. He always got aggressive when holding shitty hands.
“Fold,” Koa muttered, tossing his cards toward the center of our makeshift poker ring.
His gaze kept darting to Seri, who sat cross-legged between him and me, absently twirling a curl with one finger.
So far, we’d learned a few things about her.
She turned nineteen on March seventh, had found Brumous about nine weeks ago, and King Julian Hemming told her that he was almost five months old.