Chapter Twelve #2
I practically choke on my own spit, and the inferno he’s created in my underwear from the image his words created practically incinerates my underwear.
Well, fuck me, yes, please. Wait, actually, no, I’m not going to take that back.
There’s no fucking denying I’d love to ride the mysterious supernatural.
Storm’s eyes practically bulge out of his head, as an orange spark lights his horns, “What the fuc . . .”
“So she’s a slut too. It makes sense. I mean no one would do her unless she was easy anyway,” the women giggle together, and the teasing air that was surrounding the rest of us sours.
I sigh heavily and shove the last bite of food on my plate into my mouth, “And that’s when I take my leave. Fuck you both.”
I grin as I get up and walk away, hearing the tell-tale scrape of chairs as someone else gets up as well.
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Loki says as he reaches my side, anger simmering in his eyes.
“Yeah, you can’t leave without grabbing something from the dessert table,” Rival grins as he grabs my arm and gently steers me towards the table in question.
I glance around at all of them surrounding me and then back at the table where Storm’s eyes are glued to us despite the wandering hands of the two women who are trying to entertain him.
My heart warms. I grin and thread my arm through Rival’s. “No, how could I forget dessert?”
“Don’t listen to them. Even if we had been doing what you were implying, it’s none of their fucking business, and poly relationships are or at least were the norm for supernaturals until recently,” Reaper tries to reassure me sweetly.
“Thank you, I know all that, and it didn’t really bother me.
I don’t really care what either of them thinks about me,” I reply honestly.
I don’t, I do care about what Storm thinks of me though, and I hate it, which is why I add, “Can we take the desserts up to the room, though? I don’t fancy sitting back down and being insulted. ”
Loki wraps his arm around my shoulders, and his lips brush the top of my head, sending butterflies soaring through my stomach, “Of course, we can even put a movie on.”
“Thanks,” I reply simply, their kindness and consideration is still a shock to me. “Could we watch Notting Hill from the Earth Realm? I love that one and how they use some of our sayings.”
I’m suddenly pulled into a very enthusiastic hug courtesy of Loki, “Yes! That’s one of my favourites, and the fuckers don’t let me watch it very often!”
Mayhem rolls his eyes with a smirk, “You watched it on repeat for a week. We had to limit you.”
Loki’s grin widens, but he stays silent, a happy bounce in his step as he moves over to the dessert table, apparently in a rush now that the film has been chosen. His whole demeanour makes a soft smile tug at the corner of my lips.
“I’ll be back in a minute, grab a dessert for me, Darlin’?” Killian asks me, and I nod.
He turns on his heel and a fierce look descending across his face as he starts to make his way back to Storm and the women. A quick glance at the others reveals the grim satisfaction contorting them.
“Do I want to know?” I ask, turning to the table and loading up a tray with everything that looks good. Over the past few days, I have learned that I have a major sweet tooth. Besides, in the movies, when people get sad, they eat desserts and comfort food, so I assume it’ll make me feel better.
“He’s just going to have a word, nothing to worry about,” Loki answers with his usual light-heartedness. “Come on, let’s take this up to the room and watch our favourite film.”
As I turn to follow the others, my eyes land on the long table at the front of the hall where the teachers usually eat, and something about it strikes me as odd. I pause in my steps and frown as I realise what strikes me as strange.
“Guys,” I call out, making them all pause and turn back to me. “The Headmaster and half of the teachers are missing, and look at the expressions of those who are here.”
Instead of questioning what I’m talking about, they all turn in the direction of the teacher's dining table and observe them.
“None of them has touched their food,” Mayhem points out with a frown.
“And they all look on edge. They’ve got the sound-dampening spell around them to stop our noise from bothering them, and their conversations being heard like normal.
However, they’re still bending their heads together and darting their eyes around like they’re worried about being overheard,” Rival adds, looking over them with a critical and curious eye.
“Do you think it has got something to do with whatever Zev had to see the Headmaster about?” Reaper asks.
“Without a doubt,” Killian replies, joining the conversation and obviously hearing enough that he knows what we’re talking about.
“I have a feeling that shits about to hit the fan,” Loki mutters, and we all hum in agreement.
Killian takes the tray of desserts off of me and holds it with one hand as he reaches out with his other hand and threads his fingers through mine. He gently pulls me away from the dining hall, the others following as he leads me back up to the room.
As soon as we push through the door, Loki makes a mad dash for his room, and I look at the others curiously.
“Where’s he off to in such a hurry? I thought he wanted to watch the film?”
“He’s going to put pyjamas on. You can’t watch a film and eat your weight in desserts in normal clothes,” Rival grins, starting towards his own room.
I realise that they’re all going to get changed, and I feel the familiar rise of anxiety. I pull my hand from Killian’s and start twirling one of my rings in a nervous gesture.
“Are you all going to put pyjamas on?” I ask. My voice is more timid than I like.
Rival pauses in his doorway and turns around, frowning when he catches whatever look is currently on my face, “We normally do, but we don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing we’d want to do.”
My anxiety recedes a small amount at his gentle tone and the easy acceptance to make me feel better.
I can do this. I can tell them what’s really wrong. Despite not knowing them for very long, I trust them, surprisingly. I feel the nudge of Poca’s head against my stomach, he always appears when my anxiety starts to rise. I reach out my hand and run it through the reassuring warmth of his fur.
“It’s not that, not at all. It’s just, I don’t have pyjamas. My father considered them a luxury I didn’t need when I could just sleep in my clothes,” I shrug.
The anger that pulses through the room is not what I was expecting, and I’m immensely grateful when Loki bounds out of his room, interrupting the silence as he stops in front of me and gives me something else to focus on.
He thrusts a bundle of fabric out towards me, and I grasp it quickly to avoid it all falling on the floor, “Here, I thought you could wear something of mine.”
He knew, and he tried to fix it. My heart melts into a gooey puddle as I stare up at him.