Chapter 5 #2
“Where do you sleep?” Amun asked, his voice tinted with what I could tell was actual curiosity.
Despite getting off to a bad start, I couldn’t blame him for his reaction to Arabella, and even more so, I think he was quickly grasping the dynamic here.
You didn’t live for that long—even with having near immortality—by being reactive.
I was positive that his reaction to our pixie was both startling and upsetting to him.
So, unlike the others, I didn’t have much problem with him, and I trusted Arabella’s instincts.
If she thought he was good for our team, I wasn’t going to deny her that.
It would be difficult for me to deny her anything, unless it threatened her health.
But wasn’t that the biggest issue here? It wasn’t the lack of attraction or what I would or wouldn’t do for Arabella.
I mean, shit—we hadn’t stated it directly, but I felt like it was pretty obvious that any one of us would give our left fucking arm to be even next to her, let alone be with her.
No, the issue was that she was human, and that was the only thing stopping any of us from attacking her sweet ass, pinning her against a wall and taking her like a legitimate animal.
But I couldn’t. We couldn’t. She was delicate.
Breakable. Vulnerable. So instead we kept her insulated like an exotic flower surrounded by thorns and hoped that no one would try to take her from us.
It wasn’t fair. I knew it even confused her, because she felt the draw.
But the idea of her being with anyone but our team was infuriating.
I mean, shit—the idea of her being with a human made me see red, but the worst threat?
Her possibly falling for a nightmare that was a Class B or C.
One that wasn’t as powerful and had far more humanity.
Had a far less chance of hurting her. That very real chance of her not being ours, even if it wasn’t in the way we fully wanted, was like a shock to the system each and every time.
So this middle ground we had come to was just an unknown, a draw. It was temporary.
We had to figure out something, because it wasn’t fair for Arabella to live her entire life without that.
Without physical affection. I knew that, and so did the others, even if they refused to admit it.
Nightmares weren’t used to softness or affection—it wasn’t part of our culture—but I knew she craved it, and not giving her something… that wasn’t an option.
Then again, it wasn’t like we didn’t touch her all the time. Sleep next to her. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe we could figure out ways around it.
I let out a frustrated sound as Arabella looked back at me, confused, my emotions blanking as she slid her badge to open up the dorm. She continued to explain to Amun how to get into the room as I stepped into the familiar space that I called home.
“Everything okay?” Razar asked, walking next to me, his gaze sharpening on my expression as if sensing my internal dilemma.
He was good at that, being able to sense when I or someone else was on the edge of saying something to her or fucking shit up.
It was one of the reasons I still kept most of my thoughts to myself after all this time.
The shit that I did want to say to her? It would only complicate everything.
I had willpower, but when she was laid out against me on the couch, running her fingers through my hair and telling me how handsome she found me?
What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?
I literally just soaked it in, taking every ounce of softness she offered, knowing it may be all I ever get from her.
It was also possible that Razar was poking at me because he had a bruised ego from when I knocked him on his ass earlier.
Something I had done in part to make sure she didn’t get hurt in a potential fight between him and Amun…
and because seeing her in a stranger’s arms had forced my temper, so the physical reaction had made me feel better. I didn’t feel bad about that.
I shrugged, offering a noncommittal response, before crossing the room and sitting down on the large, comfortable sectional that was centered in the sunken living room.
The entire space was dimmed in lighting and warmly decorated, the hardwood floors matching the masculine furniture, fireplace, and wall of bookshelves.
There were no windows in the dorm because it was in the center of the building, but the space still managed to feel warm instead of cold and dark.
Probably because Arabella had personally designed the space. Unlike the group of us, she was welcoming and warm enough to make up for all of our bullshit, so it was unsurprising that it was reflected in here.
My eyes ran over her frame as she stood in the middle of the room, pointing towards a massive table and a kitchen featuring an island large enough to seat several people.
It was a luxurious space, and after everything I’d gone through within the past one hundred something years, it had taken weeks for me to get used to it.
Get used to having a space to call my own, even.
You didn’t get that while traveling or imprisoned.
Now I had a bedroom and a dorm I could legitimately call home.
I just wished that it included my pixie in it.
That I could wake up every morning to a wave of bright pink hair on my dark sheets and her naked frame wrapped up in my arms. It was probably smart that she didn’t live with us, because my control was already fairly weak, and I knew that if mine was bad, the others were far worse.
Especially those who were younger and had less control.
Specifically, Blackwell. Everyone had seen exactly how thrilled he’d been at the concept of her having no choice but to sleep in our beds if Amun took her room, and I think that Razar would probably go out of his way to make sure she didn’t sleep in his bedroom now.
Not that he had a right to talk at fucking all—we all knew that he went to her room at night.
The woman came into work with red sparkles all over her most mornings.
If it wasn’t for his fear of hurting her, I think they would have been sleeping together for some time now.
Somehow, though, he managed to keep control, something that impressed even me.
I didn’t really trust anyone else to be able to do so… especially not myself.
But couldn’t I just have her in my bed once? Sleep with her once? I wasn’t even talking about fucking. Although, I would probably give my goddamn soul for the chance to slide into her tight warmth. I could go slow enough and keep controlled enough so that I wouldn’t risk hurting her… probably.
Fuck, one time would never be enough, though. I knew that.
I frowned as Arabella led Amun towards the hallway that featured all seven doorways, not liking that she was going into a room alone with him. I smiled as Saint followed after, clearly determined to not allow that to happen either.
Good. I may not mind Amun, but I didn’t want him alone with Arabella until he realized the risk any of us posed to her.
What would she say if she knew? If she knew that I wanted her more than I’d wanted anything in my life, but that I could never give into that need because it could kill her? I could kill her. Shit.
Letting out a tired sigh, the couch shifted as Zain threw himself down next to me, offering a knowing smile. I had no doubt he knew exactly where my head was right now, mostly because it was rarely anywhere else but on her.
“We could kill him during training and make it look like an accident.” He was attempting to act like he was joking, but I knew he was serious.
Unfortunately, a choice like that began playing with the chance that Arabella would be mad at us, and that was something we avoided.
Then again, on the rare occasion that she did get worked up, it was fucking glorious, the way her stormy, mismatched eyes changed and her cheeks flushed with color.
It would be hard for me to find a state of being that Arabella inhabited that I didn’t find attractive.
“I’m a fan of that,” Razar stated, his eyes on the open bedroom door as Arabella pointed some stuff out to Amun.
I knew Razar was doing his best to give her space and not make her feel like he was upset about the Amun thing, but I could see how much it frustrated him.
Then again, anything that threatened Razar’s spot in Arabella’s life even slightly made him furious.
I think sometimes he didn’t see how clearly she loved him. How clearly she felt for all of us.
I never doubted Arabella’s feelings for us, unlike some of the others. As I said, none of that was the problem. The problem was the risk we posed to her.
But not everyone believed that was the case. Some of our younger teammates were not only a possible risk due to a lack of control, but suffered from uncertainty when it came to the obvious affection Arabella had for us.
Zain was a good example of that. Despite his lighthearted attitude, I knew the nightmare pined over Arabella and was constantly watching her, trying to figure out ways to get closer to her without possibly hurting her.
I had heard him tell Saint several times that he wasn’t convinced she had feelings for him, and despite Saint’s assurances, I knew he wasn’t swayed.
I honestly had no idea how the two of them were friends to begin with, because they were so drastically opposite of one another.
It didn’t help that I knew Saint encouraged him to toe that line, and while it was frustrating, it was completely unsurprising.
The reaper had said several times that we were worrying about nothing, but that was obviously not true.
Frankly, I had no idea how we hadn’t fucked up yet, because we were always on the verge of it.
Blackwell almost had. My gaze moved to where he and Damian stood talking quietly to one another in the kitchen.
I considered everyone on this team a friend, or whatever nightmares like us could have that was close to a friend, but they were actually like brothers.
I think part of it came from being legend terrors, but more so because of their fathers and their important place within human culture.
At least they had a built-in check for one another, which was why when Arabella had kissed Blackwell and he had lost his shit, Damian hadn’t hesitated to lock him up.
It was the most considerate thing to do, because outside of killing him, it was probably the only way to stop him.
I enjoyed slaughtering someone as much as the next monster, but I was actually a fan of both of them, so I preferred to not have to.
“Bella,” Zain called out, grabbing her attention. “What are you going to do while we are gone tonight?”
Her eyes widened, as if she hadn’t fully considered her plans.
I loved her two different shades of eyes, one a smoky, velvet gray and the other a silver that reflected her emotions perfectly.
It was for sure a positive that she was easy to read, because without it, I had absolutely no doubt that we would fuck shit up way more than we already did.
As it was, I often felt like she was keeping back her opinions and thoughts about stuff just to provide a measured response.
Her gaze moved to Amun. “I’m going to be on the radio like normal. I mean, Amun should see how everything works from this end, so when he joins you guys next time, it’ll be easier.”
“I can’t focus with your voice on the radio,” Saint groaned as I nearly chuckled at the blush that lit up her cheeks. He wasn’t lying, despite her acting as if he was teasing her. Saint didn’t joke around—everything he said was exactly what he meant, even if his mannerisms suggested otherwise.
“Too bad.” She poked his chest, his eyes snapping to her finger as he caught her hand. Her attention was already back on Amun. “You should get settled, though. We don’t really have anything else to do today but hang out until they leave.”
“Are you staying here?” he demanded, looking worried, suddenly, as if she was going to leave.
I knew he probably wanted to haul her to his side, but the man had some level of self-preservation, clearly, since she was in Saint’s arms. If he tried to remove her, he would probably get his soul forcibly ripped out.
“Of course.” She flashed a smile and slipped off her shoes before crossing the room towards me, causing Saint to scowl at her absence.
Zain had already turned on the television, and despite everyone trying to look busy, most of us were just staring at her.
Well, except Saint, who was once again having a stare-off with Amun.
It was enough having one nightmare with death magic; having two was a fucking cluster, and it was causing my own magic to buzz in annoyance.
The minute Arabella squeezed between Zain and I, though, it didn’t matter. None of the tension, the shit with Amun, or even my magic mattered. Just her.
Razar slid down on the floor in front of her as she tucked her legs underneath her frame and began to run her fingers through his short hair, my own finding their way to her back.
She rolled her shoulders and let out a happy hum as I began to draw patterns there, my eyes on her instead of the television and the bullshit human news program that was flashing headlines in bright colors.
The actions of humans had become predictable.
Attack after attack. It just proved that humans didn’t change over time.
They hated one another, but they hated anything different than them even more.
Nothing could unite them like hatred for something alien or ‘scary.’ I suppose I should be grateful for their fear since it fed our power, but instead I found myself annoyed that they were the reason we had missions in the first place.
Missions that caused my pixie to stress and took us away from her.
Her nose twitched once again in clear frustration over the headlines as she melted against my side after a few minutes of watching.
Everyone else was settled throughout the large room, Zain draping a blanket over her lap as Arabella offered me a concerned look after another moment focused on the television.
“Promise me you guys will be careful.”
“You know we will.” I kept my voice so low that only she could hear it. Her eyes warmed as she nuzzled further into my side, her sweet perfume surrounding me.
“You will come back to me?” she murmured.
That wasn’t a true question.
My fingers ran over her cheek lightly, like she often did to me. “Always.”
Either that or die trying.