Chapter 5
Bluebell
A poking sensation along my ribs has me jolting upright, blinking my eyes to figure out who or what is tickling me.
I scream at finding shocking purple eyes and sharp white fangs right in front of me.
Hadrian.
He snickers and grins, moving his tail from beneath the hem of my shirt and wrapping it around his thigh like most gargoyles do.
I try not to stare at just how much of that thigh is exposed due to the shortness of his Punishers shorts.
They can’t even be called shorts; they should just be called sho— because they can’t have more than a two-inch inseam.
“Get your junk outta my face,” I bark, slumping against the sofa as he crosses his arms and beams at me. “When are they gonna get you some shorts that fit?”
He snorts out a laugh and spreads his huge wings wide, flaring them so big, they blot out the light coming in from the windows and the light filtering from the chandeliers above him.
“Shorts that fit? That ain’t in the playbook, Bluebell.
I think half the tickets we sell are so that monstresses such as yourself can come stare at our junk while we’re running around. ”
“Facts,” I grumble. “I’m partial to the team uniform, if I’m honest.”
He drops to his heels and rests his elbows on his knees, cocking his head playfully to the side. “You come to the game to stare at my junk, Bluebell?”
I lean forward until my face is a half inch from his, dropping my gaze to his mouth. Nipping my lip, I hum in the back of my throat. “Would you like me to, Hadrian?”
He rolls his eyes and pushes me to the back of the sofa. “You eat yet? They gave you the gift card, right?”
I pop up and follow him into the kitchen, where he deposits his bag and starts emptying protein shake bottles out of it.
“Didn’t eat yet. I fell asleep on that bomb-ass sofa instead.”
He raises a single dark brow in an accusatory fashion. “Yeah, with your soda in your hand. It was half dumped over when I arrived.”
I gulp. “Err, did you pick it up?”
“I did.” He smiles as he tosses the protein bottles in the sink. “Let’s get food.”
I look around. “Don’t you have post-game team shit to do?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not much of a partier. Told them I had plans.”
“Argh.” I slump onto a barstool. “Don’t cancel plans to hang with me. I’m just gonna pass out and be boring and probably work.”
He rounds the island and joins me, slapping a menu down on the bartop. “And yet that sounds fucking perfect to me because, again, I’m not a party animal. Let’s order room service, watch weird movies, and chill on the sofa. Or I’ll take you out if you wanna go out.”
I scrunch my nose up, and he laughs, shoving the room service menu closer to me.
“In, it is. Pick a bunch of shit from there. I’m gonna shower, then I’ll order, and you can pick a movie.
“Done.” I pull the menu close as he rises and heads to the left where the bedroom is situated. I definitely don’t watch him go to see if he happens to rip that shirt off on his way to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, he shows back up in gray sweatpants—my fucking archnemesis, WHY DO GUYS DO THAT?
—and a matching gray hoodie that snaps along his shoulders and sides to accommodate his enormous wings.
The gray looks good against the dark purple of his skin and all that black hair.
It’s pulled halfway up into a top knot that shouldn’t make my mouth water.
I blame the sweatpants. It’s stupid for him to wear them. I’m just a simple woman, and I can only be expected to behave so much.
Scratch that. I’m just a horny woman who hasn’t been on a date in about, oh, eighteen months, and I really cannot use the vibrator I brought while I’m in this suite with my brother’s best friend.
Not when gargoyles have such impeccably strong senses.
He’d hear it and smell it, and gods, that would be fucking awkward.
Although, I’m pretty sure I hauled a box of his sex toys when I helped him move. He got so awkward about that small one. LOL.
Hadrian flops on the sofa and grabs the room phone. “Give me your food list ‘cause we both know you wrote it down.”
Laughing, I slide off the bar and hand him the sticky note where I wrote out the food I want to try. “I picked a lot,” I admit. “I’ll pay.”
He snorts. “Imagine if I told Jasper I let you pay for food. He’d rip my head off.”
“I dunno, he’s not that chivalrous,” I mutter. If he was, he wouldn’t let me do so much of the shit he should be doing for himself.
Hadrian takes my list and calls down to the attendant, who’s apparently on call specifically for his needs.
His tone is casual and easy with her, and despite the angel on my shoulder who usually overrules the devil, jealousy rises.
The way he talks to her sounds like he knows her.
And that leads me to thinking about him out partying with his teammates.
And wondering what he’d be doing tonight if he wasn’t stuck in with me.
I’m ready to flip tables again thinking about some girl riding his face.
Get it together, Blue, I scold myself.
Hadrian turns to me with an inquisitive look. “You okay? Your scent changed. Did I order wrong?”
I force a laugh. “That’s my starving scent. It’s the I’m-about-to-be-a-feral-cat-if-you-don’t-feed-me smell.”
He stares for another moment, then turns to grab the television remote.
Handing it to me, he puts his big feet up on the coffee table.
I definitely don’t admire the three thick claw-tipped toes.
He has no arch to speak of. His foot is totally flat.
I bet you couldn’t knock him over with a bulldozer.
“Pick something you know Jasper wouldn’t wanna watch,” he says, grabbing a water bottle out of the front pocket of his sweater.
I scroll through the options as I tuck my feet up under me.
With the sun setting, it’s getting a little chilly, and I hadn’t imagined that for Santa Alaya.
I should have, because the wind off the mountains in PG makes everything feel twenty degrees colder.
Here they’ve got wind coming off their mountains and the sea.
Ultimately, I settle on Galaxy Quest, a movie I fucking adore that I know Jasper hates.
“Good pick.” Hadrian settles his right arm on the back of the sofa. I try not to notice how close his hand is to the back of my head. And I definitely don’t think about what it would be like for him to grip my neck and guide me onto his huge lap.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” I announce, rising off the sofa and heading into the kitchen, praying there are more sodas or something in here. Turns out his fridge is fully stocked, so I grab another drink and busy myself while I try to tamp down the unfortunate hormones.
Hadrian glances over. “Is this gonna be like a typical Tucker movie night where you can’t sit still because you’ve got a to-do list a mile long?”
I take a swig of the soda, willing the cherry flavoring to chemically alter my brain just for tonight. “Yeah,” I admit. “Probably.”
He smiles and turns back to the movie.
“Do you ever go out with the team?” I return to the sofa and flop down just past his reach.
He shakes his head, taking another long drink of water. Fuck, the way his throat bobs as he swallows makes me think things. And wonder things. And I’ve got to rein it in.
I just don’t spend time alone with Hadrian. And that’s a good thing because being alone with Hadrian makes feelings rise inside me, feelings I’ve done a great job of hiding over the years. Feelings I’ve had ever since he got big and brawny and started getting facial hair and a five o’clock shadow.
Finally, he turns to me, scrunching his nose up, which brings out the divot in his chin. “They’re younger guys, mostly, like me, but I’m an old soul. They want to drink and party and taste the local delights, if you know what I mean.”
I snort. “Are you afraid to say the word ‘sex,’ Hadrian?”
He gives me a wry look. “No, Bluebell. My teammates love to go out and fuck hard; is that what you want to hear? Fucking random women isn’t my jam.
It’s not interesting to me without a connection.
And I can’t connect with someone hopped up on tequila in a random sex club.
It’s just…not to mention, it’s hard to know who wants to hang out with you for you and who wants the fame and everything that comes with this.
” He waves around at the beautiful suite.
Returning his focus to me, he smiles. “Remember when you were nine, and we wrote out that pact that we’d get married at thirty if we weren’t mated yet?”
My blood freezes in my veins. He’s thirty-four.
“Yeah, I remember.” I take a deep drink of the coke. Please please please don’t tell me you’re thinking it’s time for that.
He shrugs. “Obviously you and I aren’t married, but the spirit of that pact still means something to me. We made it because we knew that the basis of any good partnership is friendship and mutual respect. How can you even have that with someone you just met?”
I’m staring, but I can’t summon words. I’ve had plenty of one-night stands. Nothing ever stuck, and nobody was ever right, but that’s always been fine for me.
“I’ve still got the bracelet we sealed our pact with,” he says with a little chuckle. “It’s at home on my keychain.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you for real?”
He scoffs. “You didn’t notice when you helped me move in? Do you have yours?”
I gulp. “Errr…”
He shrugs. “I’m sappy. I know. It’s symbolic more than anything. I just never met anyone who made me want to throw it away, I guess.”
I’ve gotta do something about this revelation, so I resort to my trademark sarcasm. “Well, you’ve got two months until I’m thirty, and then you’ll be stuck with me for eternity.”
He grins as he watches the opening credits of the movie. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Bluebell.” He winks at me. “I could do worse than you, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “You couldn’t handle me, Hadrian. I would drive you crazy.”
His teasing smile falls, and a muscle works overtime in his jaw, his tail uncurling from his thigh to thwap against the floor. Cocking his head to the side, he stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Heat flares along my cheeks and down my chest, nipples pebbling at that challenging, possessive expression. What do I do with this?!
I’m thankful when a bell dings, and we both get up to grab the food.
Half an hour later, I’m so full, it hurts, and Hadrian’s half asleep on the sofa, eyes heavy-lidded as our intrepid Galaxy Quest team struggles to understand that aliens do exist.
I quietly quote my favorite parts as the room gets chillier and chillier. Eventually, Hadrian glances over. “You cold?”
I laugh. “Among the other failures of this trip, I neglected to realize it would be cool at night.”
He shifts upright and yanks his sweater open at both shoulders, revealing miles of taut purple skin and ab muscles so thick they’re like building blocks.
They’re, like, fake abs, they’re so good.
He could be wearing one of those fake ab sweaters.
I force my eyes up when he snaps the sweatshirt back together, then turns to me.
Pulling it over my head, he helps me get it fully on and then smiles. “Got it cooled up for ya.”
I wave at his everything. “You won’t be cold?”
“I’m fine, Bluebell,” he says quietly. Then he wraps an arm around my shoulder and hauls me close. “I’m not as warm as a human would be, but c’mere.”
Fuck meeeeee. I’m tucked against his side, my feet under his thigh as he angles sideways so I’m basically resting on his side and chest.
His slightly cool skin smells faintly of soap as he shifts to make room for me, muscles flexing beneath his beautiful dark skin.
Resisting the urge to slide my hands over his abs, I carefully rest my cheek on his naked pec.
His fingers grip my shoulder even though his eyes don’t move from the television.
Is he finding this as awkward as I do? I’m snuggling my brother’s best friend I’ve had the hots for for ages.
But within moments, he’s asleep and snoring softly, manspread all over the couch while I try to take up the minimum amount of space without making this awkward.
He wouldn’t have pulled me close if he felt weird about it. Eventually, I roll with it and try not to pass out on his half-naked body while I’m wearing his clothes. This could be so, so hot if things were different.
Sigh.