Chapter 12
Twelve
A good brownie never lies.
Unless she really needs to help her friend. - Arienna
“Fabia,” I ask as I watch the hottest man in all of the Seven Planes walk away from us, my eyes on his tight behind, “is my jaw on the floor? Because I feel like it’s on the floor.”
Dear gods, he is fine. Black leather hugs long lean legs. His wasp-like wings, greyish and glowing, are currently erect, leaving his ass open for blatant, undisturbed ogling. And dear gods, his ass… A girl could get lost in it.
Preferably with her tongue.
I lick my lips, totally onboard with this whole marriage thing. “So any chance we can get married tonight?” I ask as the door closes behind him. My king. “Or like, right now?” Or better yet, an hour ago so we can go ahead and have our wedding night?
Fabia steps in front of me with a scowl. “You have the worst taste in men,” she says, shaking her head. “He’s a total dick.”
I peer around her, as if I can catch a glimpse of him through the wooden door. “But he’s hot.” I grab her arm with both hands. “And Fabia, I think he wants to have sex with me.”
Scoffing, she shakes me off. She opens her mouth to say something when a towel lands on her face.
“Get dressed. The wedding is set for tonight, and we have a lot of work to do.”
Excited, I grab the towel off Fabia’s head and fling it around my shoulders. Rushing over to my clothes, I miss whatever she does, but the next thing I know, there is a grunt and a hiss of pain.
I turn, with the towel around my head, my hands drying my hair. “What the – Fabia! Seriously? How?”
Staring at the knife in her hand, which is pinned above her head as he pulls her against his hot, wet body, I am bombarded by questions.
So many questions. Where did she even hide it?
How did she get it? How long has she had it?
How many knives does he have? Also, where?
He is dressed in nothing but boxers! And seriously, can their faces get any closer without kissing?
“The next knife you try to use on me,” he growls, “better well cut me.”
Holding her gaze, he claws the weapon from her hand. She breathes hard, her chin jutting out as she looks at him in defiance.
“The next knife, you won’t see,” she warns.
He laughs, but it sounds like a challenge.
And suddenly, I feel like the side character in a book.
But damn if I’m not going to be the best side character to my bestie. Not one of those annoying ones who always interrupts the moment.
Slowly sneaking over to my discarded blue slip, I pick it up and head for the door behind me. I’m not sure where it leads to, but it’s away, so that’s good enough for me. And them, I imagine. Unless…
He is an exhibitionist?
I freeze mid-sneak. Bugger. How do I know if I should stay or go now?
Although most brownies are exhibitionists, I’m not really into it. I always get too embarrassed. So I have no idea what Nicholas will want me to do if he is. Do I stand here with my back turned? Turn and watch? Or –
“Arienna,” Fabia hisses. “Where are you going?”
Huh. I wouldn’t have thought she would be the one calling me back. Given her lack of participation in our town orgies, I always assumed she wasn’t into public displays of affection.
“I was just giving you two lovelies some privacy so you can go at it,” I say, turning back around. “But I didn’t realise you were into voyeurism.”
“Into voy–” Nicholas starts.
“We were not going to ‘go at it’,” Fabia cuts in. “We are never going to ‘go at it’. Because unlike you, I have much better taste in men.” She tugs away from him and stomps over to her clothes.
I grin.
This is going to be so much fun. Fabia hasn’t crushed on a guy in… well, ever.
I glance at Nicholas.
His dark eyes are glued on the floor. His shoulders are curved in ever so slightly. As if he senses my gaze on him, he looks up. And then quickly away. “Just get dressed and meet me outside.”
Spinning on his heels, he leaves the room.
Wasting no time, Fabia grabs my arm and yanks me towards the door I was trying to sneak through earlier.
“Come on.” She pulls it open, then curses when she sees it’s only a closet.
Looking up, she cranes her neck side to side.
“There’s a vent up there,” she says. “If you give me a lift up, I can reach it.”
Shaking my head, I pull out of her grasp. “I don’t want to escape.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m tired, and I’ve just had a bath. I’m clean. And –” I pause, thinking everything through. “I think this marriage can work.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re still drunk. Great.”
“No. Fabia.” I step away. “Listen.”
She looks at me, giving me her undivided attention despite her obvious thoughts about it.
“I just watched my mum marry the man I thought I would. And this guy isn’t looking to bang my mum. Or my sister. Sure, I’ll have to figure out a way to bring all my w–” I stop, then cough. “My stuff over, but I’ll be a queen. That’ll most likely be a non-issue, really.” I wave a hand.
“But he’s a monster, Arienna. He eats children.”
“But not babies.”
She shakes her head dumbly.
“Okay, fair,” I say. “But I’m certain I can fix him. Once I introduce him to the lovely flavours of –”
“Arienna –”
“No!” I cut in. “You already made me get rid of Hyatt.”
“Another monster.”
I ignore her. “We have a connection.”
She rolls her eyes. “You thought the same about Karl. And Jack. And Simon. And Patrick. And –”
“Not like this.” I sigh dreamily. “I think he might be my lifemate.” The literal other half of my soul – taken by the gods at the beginning of time and then flung out into the world for us to find.
She snorts. “Again. Karl. Jack. Simon –”
“Fabia!”
“Arienna!” she says, exasperated. “Look. I love you. I’ll follow you into the dumbest of places, like here, because I know I can always get you out.
But this is not Brownston. You can’t just say sorry.
You’re going to be shackled to a madman who eats children and has massacred numerous towns and villages.
He is the boogeyman, the most devilish of devils.
There is no one worse than him, and I will not see you whittle away over time, snuffed out by his darkness. ”
I swallow. My pulse hammers under the emotion in her eyes. “I love you too,” I murmur. “But I can change him.”
“You can’t. Men like that don’t change.” She lets out a slow exhale, then offers me her hand. “So please, Arienna, just give me a leg up.”
I look at the door Nicholas exited through. The one my king had left through too. A pull in my chest wants me to follow him. It is a primal need I can’t ignore, and I know I am right this time. He is my lifemate.
I look at Fabia.
But she is my best friend.
Nodding, I drop the towel and head towards her. I place my hands together and lock my fingers as I stand directly below the vent.
Fabia stares at me for a second, a lifetime of feelings passing through that look. I smile softly. So does she. Then she places one hand on my shoulder and her foot in my hands. With a deep breath, she steps up and reaches for the vent.
Digging a hand into her trouser pocket, she pulls out the multi-gadget she always carries with her; I made it for her for her thirteenth birthday.
After a few seconds, she lifts the vent off, steps down, places it on the floor, and then goes right back up.
She hauls herself through the tiny hole until only her legs are sticking out.
I watch as she shimmies forward and then stops.
“Mmhmmffmph.”
I tilt my head, trying to make out her words. “I didn’t quite get that. What?”
More muffled noises reach my ears.
“Sorry, I still can’t –”
Her legs kick at the wall, saying what her mouth cannot. Oh.
Oh!
Goosebumps break out across my skin. I look around the spa room, my heart racing. I need to find something to barricade the door. If Nicholas comes in and catches Fabia trying to escape… I shudder, not wanting to think about what punishment that would bring.
“Hold on,” I say as I rush over to the closet and start pulling things out.
Fluffy robes. Towels. Mats. Slippers. All of little use.
Ugh. Where is the box of sex toys and lube one uses while having a bath?
I need something to help her wiggle out of there.
Stepping back, I place my hands on my hips and scowl at the pile before me.
Think, think, think. How can I use any of this?
A knock sounds on the door. I jump a few millimetres in the air. My heart follows suit, lodging in my throat.
“Are you two done yet?”
“No!” I say loud enough to be heard but not too loud to count as a yell. Grabbing a few towels, I run over to the door and silently shove two under the gap, wedging them in tight. “Don’t come in. I’m only half dressed. Needing to get dry and all that.”
“I didn’t think brownies cared about nudity.”
I wince. “Ah... well, yes, most don’t… but...” My eyes light up. “But a good brownie never insults someone else’s culture, and you all like clothes.”
Nodding, I twist the last towel into a cord, then loop it around the hook hanging at the top of the door. With luck, they make things properly here, and that piece of metal won’t go flying off at the first little tug.
Holding my breath, I gave the towel a slow hard yank. The hook doesn’t budge.
Smiling, I wrap the other end of the cloth around the door handle and tie the two ends together.
“And I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” I say with pride as I survey my handiwork.
It isn’t the prettiest, but given what I have, it’ll do.
He’ll eventually be able to force the handle down and shove the door open, but the towels will buy us some time.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll be changing as soon as we’re in the Dressmaker’s Suite anyway,” he says.
Argh! Why is he making this so difficult? “Yes, but…” I say, reaching for something that’ll stop him from entering. “I’m wearing a slip. It’ll cling to me if it’s wet, and in that case, I might as well walk around in my underwear.”