Chapter 13 Blackwell #2
Her sharp intake of breath and wide eyes had me feeling concerned, before a tremble worked its way across her body, making me growl in realization that she didn’t mind in the fucking least. Arabella’s eyes were dilated as she looked up at me, her pulsing jumping wildly, her desire very apparent.
“I don’t understand,” she hedged, examining my reaction.
“I must have let my magic out more than I realized,” I admitted, a smile nearly forming on my face because I wasn’t positive if it had actually been an accident at the time.
Hadn’t I been thinking about how fucking perfect she was and how I wanted her to always be mine?
Well, now, in at least one way, she would.
“You marked me.” Her voice was soft and… pleased? Thank fuck.
“Yes.” I swallowed and gave a sharp nod as her gaze met mine.
Something had sadness filtering through her gaze. “Is this the part where you get freaked out like Cy and Razar? Tell me how this was somehow a mistake and that you’re bad for me?”
Fuck. I could literally hear the hurt radiating through her voice.
I let out a soft un-humored chuckle. “Sorry, love. I am not nearly as fucking selfless as they are, clearly. I very much want my mark on you.” And so fucking much more.
“Oh.” She laid back as I leaned back over her after rolling her yoga pants back up. “Well, good, because I’m pretty sure that is permanent.”
Understatement of the century, little love.
Before I could explain that, there was a knock on the door that had me nearly groaning, knowing who it was by the magic signature alone.
I wanted to keep her wrapped up underneath me for the rest of the night, but the bastard waiting outside seemed to have a goddamn sixth sense for when to interrupt.
Hadn’t I said someone would show up eventually?
Maybe we could ignore him.
“You know that won’t work.” She smirked as I realized I’d said that out loud.
I rolled over to my side and wrapped myself around her, my head resting against her chest, my arms around her waist. I closed my eyes as she called for them to come in.
I wasn’t going to give him any mind yet.
Razar was already going to flip the fuck out and try to kill me for possibly hurting her while marking her; I wasn’t in the mood for Saint’s bullshit.
“Well, this is something I wouldn’t have expected,” Saint mused, striding in.
Fucking liar. I could hear the amusement in his voice, and if I hadn’t been so comfortable, I would probably hurt him. As it stood, I very much didn’t want to move. Ever.
I nearly let out a rumble as Arabella’s fingers began to smooth through my hair in a motion that had me both turned on and feeling relaxed enough to close my eyes. A confusing and completely real combination when it came to my little love.
“Morning, Saint.” Arabella’s voice was slightly shy. As she sat up, I kept my arms around her waist, refusing to give her up fully.
“How’s the hangover, flower?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed as if none of this was surprising or unusual.
“How do you know she’s hungover?” I asked. I knew how, but I liked to call Saint out on being such a goddamn stalker.
“I always know what Arabella is doing and how she is doing,” Saint explained easily before his tone turned more serious. “I even managed to keep the others away, and what do I get? Razar absolutely lost it, so much so that I had to lock him up—”
“You what?” My eyes snapped open as Arabella made a small worried noise.
Saint lounged back on the bed and tilted his head, assessing our reactions.
“Well yeah, he wanted to kill you when he found out that you not only encouraged her getting drunk but that you went back to her room together.” He chuckled.
“So young and dramatic, right? Nevermind, both of you are actually rather young as well. Still, you probably do need to ready yourself, Blackwell, because I informed the others of where he was being kept only minutes ago. I would say that you probably have less than a minute until—”
Fuck.
I groaned as my body was slammed back against the wall of Arabella’s bedroom, the walls shaking at the impact as the lights next to her bed flickered. Razar’s snarl filled the space as I offered him a distasteful look. I was really not in the mood for this bullshit right now.
“What the fuck did you do?” Razar demanded sharply, his black eyes filled with absolute fury. Goddamn psycho.
“Razar.” Arabella’s voice was soft and understanding as some of the others joined us, looking far more confused and less worked up. “Seriously, I am perfectly fine!”
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Razar’s voice was sharp and dark. Unfortunately, Arabella’s frustration paired with my own inner need for dominance won out, and instead of staying relaxed, my magic began to fill the space.
“Nothing she didn’t want,” I goaded, a sneer taking over my face as Saint chuckled from where he sat by my love.
“Black,” Damian offered in a warning tone.
“If you fucking hurt her—” Razar’s snarl was cut off by Arabella standing up on the bed to gain attention.
“I’m literally fine!” she exclaimed, but I knew he wasn’t hearing shit except the rage rolling through him.
“I didn’t hurt her,” I leveled, my gaze meeting his and realizing that I was officially over him trying to control every element of her life. I didn’t disagree about her safety being important, but she was a grown fucking woman. “I did mark her though.”
That would probably do it.
“What?” Razar hissed, the room filling with voices at the information as I saw Saint attempt to tug Arabella towards him, no doubt wanting to see the brand.
“I said I fucking marked her.” I stepped closer to him, my magic flaring out as my forearms lit up with black and gold flames, reaching the point where I knew this was about to turn into a very real fight. There was nothing he could do about this. It was what it was. She was marked.
Arabella was mine.
I wasn’t surprised, though, when without any magic associated with it, he punched me hard enough in the face that my head snapped back. I let out a groan when it collided with the wall.
Bastard. Absolute bastard.
A laugh came out of me, unable to stop myself, as I swiped at the blood that was coming from my nose, the gold metallic substance glinting and making Arabella let out a soft worried noise.
“You aren’t any goddamn better than any of us, Razar. We all know what the hell happened between you two after coming back yesterday. Plus, I’m not the only one that has marked her. Cy literally fucking marked her neck.”
Razar let out a low snarl, walking back across the room before I turned my attention to Cy, who had blinked across the room towards Arabella at a speed even I found impressive.
“I did what?” he asked curiously, his voice filled with something I didn’t understand.
“Marked her.” Saint shook his head as Arabella pulled away her hair to reveal the silver snakeskin-like mark that had my teammate freezing.
I didn’t pay attention to his reaction, though, because Saint was suddenly gently tugging down the edge of her yoga pants now that she was distracted with Cy.
His brows shot up. He was careful to not touch my mark on her, my body going tense at the idea of anyone touching her.
It would probably go away, but right now I felt extremely territorial. Razar’s eyes narrowed on the markings.
“I didn’t know that was possible,” Cy noted as she watched him with a slightly sad expression, but he didn’t catch it.
I knew she thought he was regretting it, but that was far from the truth.
No, I could see exactly how happy Cy was, and I was impressed the bastard had the ability to keep his shit together, especially considering the tense nature of the current situation.
“Seriously?” Damian was scowling at me in reference to the markings. My smile grew, because I knew he was only upset that he hadn’t done the same. Nightmares all marked their mates in different ways… he was just jealous that I’d actually done it.
“Can we just take a moment and relax? I haven’t even had coffee,” Arabella pointed out.
Cy walked across the room towards her small coffee bar that she had with a mini-fridge containing food and some chilled drinks.
The woman had enough of a setup that if she wanted to work here for several days straight, she could…
not that we would let her, because we are needy motherfuckers, but it would be possible.
I watched her smile at Cy’s action of starting the coffeemaker, making me jealous that I hadn’t thought of that.
“You are really just waking up?” Zain asked curiously.
I suppose it was a bit odd since Arabella rarely slept in.
I knew he was also trying to distract himself from the scent of her desire that still filled the space from when we were in bed moments ago, probably causing them to be uncomfortable and turned on.
Once again, not my problem.
“Yes, long night,” I explained.
My eyes flickered to Amun, who was leaning against the far wall, watching all of this with curiosity. His gaze moved across her two marks with an expression that wasn’t exactly anger, but he didn’t look pleased, either.
“We got drunk.” Arabella yawned, sitting back down on the bed. Saint was still splayed out on it, as if none of this was a surprise to him, and began to play with her hair.
“You marked her when she was fucking drunk?” Razar hissed in realization.
I narrowed my eyes. “One, I was drunk as well—”
“You still took advantage of her—”
My patience ran out, and I knocked his ass to the ground, hitting him right where he’d hit me, returning the favor.
I barely heard Arabella’s exasperated sigh as he snarled and managed to score a solid hit right to my abdomen, knocking the wind from me for a moment.
I cursed, going to hit him again, but suddenly I was literally thrown across the room, hitting the wall again as I slid down it.