Chapter 5
FIVE
There’s power in silence.
CELINE
Ciprian leaves the bed around sunrise, a cross between a man on a mission and a lost little boy. His head hangs low, but his shoulders are clenched. I don’t try to stop him. If he wants to talk, I’m here, but he deserves alone time. Gods know it’s an endangered commodity.
Alistair and Luca are still asleep, their faces slack. I’m glad they’re resting. We all need it after the nonstop stress of the monster realm. I sigh and sink deeper into the pillows, glad to have some time to myself. The silence gives me a chance to sort out my next move.
My top priorities are getting back to my home realm, freeing Malach, and removing my father’s head from his body.
I can’t use the illegal gateway in the desert; it’s obviously compromised, but I don’t know how to get to the celestial realm any other way.
There must be other gateways. I need to track them down.
Beneath my skin, my wings twitch eagerly. They want out, but that will have to wait. I can’t stroll around the enclave’s Colorado compound flexing my wingspan . . . or can I?
The idea is tempting.
Lips press against my neck. “Your thoughts are loud, angel.”
I arch into Alistair’s touch. “Yeah? What am I thinking about?”
“Patricide. Obviously.”
I huff. “Lucky guess.”
He drags his fangs over my throat, letting me feel the scratch but never breaking the skin. “Would you prefer I give you something else to think about?”
I curl my leg over his hip and flip him until I’m on top. The ends of my hair graze his bare chest, and Alistair shivers, then groans. “I love it when you’re rough.”
Smiling, I drag his wrists over his head and rock my hips. “Are you thirsty?”
Red consumes the blue of his eyes. “For you? Always.”
My pulse hammers in my neck. Alistair has always been charming, and I’m used to his feral desire for me, but there’s a softness behind it now. I like it as much as his possessiveness.
“Should we keep you hidden while you’re here?” I ask, bending over to kiss his jaw. “I can make you my dirty little secret if you’re concerned about association with the enclave getting out to your clients and ruining your business.”
His reaction is immediate—eyes narrowing to slits as a scowl overtakes his face. “No,” he hisses. I nod and take his decision at face value. I don’t ask him to explain, and I won’t make the offer again.
Instead, I strip us both and ride him until my thighs burn and the faded blue of Alistair’s eyes is nothing but a memory.
We try to be quiet; Luca is still sleeping, and knowing he could wake up at any point makes it hotter.
When Ali’s fangs sink into the curve of my right breast, I come hard, losing my grip on his wrists and sagging in his arms.
“I love you, Celine,” he whispers.
My magic stirs inside me, the truth of his words so strong I can tell without testing him. My heart thuds erratically. He’s told me before, but we were in danger then. It means something different to hear it while we’re lying in bed together, as safe as we’ll ever be.
I swallow, my throat tight.
Saying it back isn’t enough. How can Alistair believe me without proof? I need him to never doubt me. This thing between us, it’s more than explosive chemistry, more than the blood circle. We’ve killed to protect each other, and I have no regrets. If I lose Alistair, I’ll lose part of myself, too.
I activate my runes and meet his stare. “I love you, Alistair Ashbourne, and I won’t ever let you go.”
His eyes flicker from my truth runes, stamped on every inch of my nude body, to my eyes. His lips land on my chest. “You don’t have to prove it to me, angel. I feel it every time we touch. Your racing heart is fast becoming my favorite sound.”
I shake my head. “You made my heart race long before I loved you.”
“It wasn’t the same,” he growls. “Although I’m happy to continue serving as your dildo.”
“Don’t mind me.” Luca yawns, rolling onto his side to look at us. “I would hate to interrupt your super romantic dildo declaration.”
I laugh, then wink at Alistair. Together, we tackle Luca, pinning him to the bed and working together to turn him into a desperate, begging mess.
They’re mine. More now than ever before. I fought to protect them, and I’ll be damned if I put them in harm’s way again. I can’t change my plans for them, but I can try to keep them from being caught deeper in my mess. If that means keeping things close to my chest, that’s what I’ll do.
A solo mission is the only kind I’m willing to risk.
Ciprian returns, stepping into the room cautiously. His eyes are red-rimmed, but his shoulders are relaxed.
“Are you good?” Ali asks.
Ciprian nods. “Sheena took Riven and Hyacinth to meet a witch who might be willing to mentor her.” He swallows, and a muscle in his jaw works. “And my brother invited us to breakfast.”
I tilt my head. “Why do you look like you’re about to make a run for it?”
He glances at his feet before reluctantly meeting my eyes. “I told him.”
“Told him what exactly?” Luca’s voice is sharp.
Ciprian stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “That we’re together. All of us.”
There’s a beat of silence, interrupted only by the large clock ticking on the wall.
“Okay,” I say quietly, giving him a chance to elaborate.
He doesn’t.
“Did he freak out?” Alistair asks.
Ciprian shakes his head.
We wait again, but he’s lost in his thoughts.
“For fuck’s sake,” Luca snaps. “The suspense is killing me. What did he say?”
“That he wants me to be happy.” Ciprian sounds far more stunned by that than most people would, but I remember the conversation we had in his bedroom after his dad died.
He stood by that childhood photo of him, Callum, and Gideon and told me about how things used to be between them. There was so much longing in his voice.
I erase the distance between us, pull his hands from his pockets, and squeeze them. “That’s good, Ciprian. That’s really good, right?” He nods jerkily, then his face crumples. I wrap my arms around him. “He was obviously worried about you.”
“We talked about everything, and . . .” He sighs, his voice raspier than usual. “I think we’re okay. Gods, I think for the first time in eleven years, me and Callum are fucking okay.”
Luca and Alistair slide in on either side of us, and my lips twitch. Poor Ciprian. He’s in a relationship with three only children. We can’t fully understand a damaged sibling bond, but we can try.
And if Callum matters to Ciprian, he matters to me.
Someone bangs on the door, and we jump apart. “I don’t know how you got by me outside, squirt, but if you don’t open this door, I’ll break it down.”
“You will do no such thing,” a posh voice mutters. “Pretend to be civilized for five minutes.”
There’s a scuffle with grunting before Ciprian sighs and opens the door. “I’m here, Gideon, what’s the issue?”
The oversized shifter releases the fae from a headlock and shoves him away. In the next second, he wraps Ciprian in a bone-crushing hug that lifts his feet completely off the floor. “You scared the fuck out of us,” he says. “I nearly started breaking things.”
I chuckle. “From the state of my apartment door, that ship has sailed.”
Gideon grins at me, drops Ciprian, and scoops me up in a hug. “Thank you for keeping him safe.” His voice is gruff and low.
I pat his back. “We kept each other safe.”
Gideon releases me and focuses his golden gaze on Luca and Alistair. “I’m Gideon Therion. Ciprian is basically a little brother to me. If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”
They nod solemnly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be threatened before nine in the morning.
Ciprian scowls at Gideon. “I’m not a damsel or some blushing virgin. If I had any honor left, I wouldn’t need you to defend it.”
“Whatever.” Gideon shrugs. “I said what I said.” And from the primal glow behind his eyes, he meant every word.
Idris introduces himself to Luca and offers Alistair a tense nod. I know they met when Sheena lifted Ali’s sun curse, and from the look of it, the fae hasn’t forgotten that encounter either. “Callum is preparing breakfast,” he says.
“Really?” Ciprian raises his eyebrows.
Gideon snorts. “I think he went to Eggs ’N Bakin’.”
Ciprian rubs his hands together. “Even better. I would kill for a breakfast sandwich.”
“Then get a move on!” Callum appears in the doorway, holding half a dozen brown paper bags. The sides are spotted with grease, and I can already smell sausage.
My stomach growls, and I rub my belly. “That smells amazing.”
We follow Callum to the kitchen and crowd around the table. There’s a replica river made of resin running through the middle of the wooden top. It’s beautiful. And expensive.
Callum dumps the greasy bags right in the middle without hesitation. “I got you your usual,” he tells Ciprian before glancing at us. “And I ordered you each a Kitchen Sink combo.”
I blink at him. “I’m scared to ask.”
“It’s got everything.” Ciprian grins. “Including the kitchen sink.” He digs into one of the brown paper bags and starts pulling things out: home fries, eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, biscuits—oh my gods, is that French toast?
—and a stack of pancakes the size of my head.
Stamped on top of each to-go box is a smiling, anthropomorphized sink.
The handle on the cold side of the faucet is somehow giving me a thumbs up.
“Dig in,” Callum says. “It won’t be nearly as good if it gets cold.”
No one argues.
I would be embarrassed by the way we’re eating—Fringe supernaturals do have some manners, I’m sure of it—but Gideon and Ciprian also eat with gusto . . . or careless abandon, however you want to categorize it. And Callum is barely better. The only person following strict etiquette is Idris.
The fae carefully cuts his French toast into evenly shaped bites, always chews with his mouth closed, and periodically dabs at his mouth with the cloth napkin he has tucked in his lap. Where did he even get that?
Callum tosses a roll of paper towels down next to the discarded takeout bags, and the rest of us use those to mop up the grease.
I eat until I’m stuffed, then give in to the urge I’ve been fighting since we sat down and begin to sort the food.
Bacon in one box, sausage in the one next to it.
The eggs are cold and rubbery now. They should be tossed, but I’ll leave that up to our hosts.
Methodically, I consolidate the leftovers before lining the boxes up in a neat row until eight smiling sinks are staring back at me with mischievous, matching grins.
“Wow,” Gideon blurts. “Idris, you should have given her a fancy napkin, too.”
Heat floods my face. I’m not a person who blushes, but I feel exposed. Give me a stripper pole and a song with a dirty beat, and I’ll blow minds without hesitation . . . but micromanaging the to-go boxes is too revealing.
“I’m not a control freak,” I insist, wincing as my magic zaps me for the lie. “Well, I guess I can be. I want things to be organized.” I fold my hands in my lap, fighting the urge to squirm.
Callum clears his throat, braces his elbows on the table, and leans toward me conspiratorially. “Until very recently, Gideon only owned one towel.”
Gideon shrugs, unbothered by the disgusted looks he’s getting. “So what? I got more, didn’t I?”
The sound of a door opening reaches us, and Sheena walks in with Riven and her human boyfriend, Quaid. I glance behind them for Hyacinth, but she’s not there.
“We got an apprenticeship for Hyacinth,” Sheena says, beaming. “And I gave her a phone, too. She’ll call if she needs anything.”
I study Riven. His face gives nothing away, but he doesn’t appear worried. If anything, he looks like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders as he says, “She needs to be around other witches.”
I nod slowly. He’s right, but I don’t want her to think we abandoned her.
Sheena squeezes my shoulder. “When I was her age, I was on my own, too. I felt like a freak on my best days and prey on my worst. If I had had someone to teach me about my magic things might have been easier. I think this will be good for her.”
I force a smile. She’s right. And the fewer people close enough to me to draw my father’s attention, the better.
We make room around the table, and no one mentions the organized boxes of food. It’s nice, and from Ciprian’s constant smile, I know it means a lot to him that we’re all getting along.
“Have you told Mom I’m here yet?” He glances at his brother.
Callum shakes his head. “Hell no. I didn’t tell her you were missing either. Keep a lid on that and maybe we’ll all survive this.”
Gideon grins, revealing dimples in his cheeks. “It’s tempting to let it slip that you’re here with friends.” He waggles his eyebrows.
Ciprian punches him in the shoulder. “I’m not here with friends. I’m here with my girlfriend and my boyfriends. And Riven.”
“Thank you for the distinction,” Riven drawls.
“Oh, shut up.” Ciprian tosses a bite of wobbly, scrambled eggs at him. Scowling, Riven catches the yellow glob and gingerly tucks it inside his napkin.
Quaid clears his throat. “Do any of you want to train?”
Sheena’s answering groan is loud, but there’s nothing I’d rather do. I shoot up from my chair and step out of the way as my wings burst from my back.
Quaid’s brown eyes twinkle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”