Chapter 4 Arabella
Chapter Four
ARABELLA
Lips ran over my neck in a sweet soothing pattern that had me sighing happily.
I knew instantly, just by the scent of warm brown sugar, who was wrapped around me—and I really did mean wrapped around me.
As in there was a heavy muscular leg that had trapped my own and a tattooed arm that was locked around my waist, molding to me and nearly trapping me underneath Saint.
I could feel his lips against my neck, and despite being completely covered by him, I wasn’t overheated.
I felt like I was covered in a secure blanket, and the crackling of the fireplace only enhanced the sensation of safety and contentment. My gaze opened to focus on the hearth in front of us, but everything felt a bit fuzzy and off as I tried to gather my bearings.
Were we on the floor? We clearly weren’t in the clearing anymore… So where were we? Were the others okay? Holy shit. The clearing. I blinked, my pulse picking up as I remembered everything.
I tried to wiggle away from Saint, needing to sit up and look around.
Something that totally didn’t work since I was quickly rolled flat on my back with him over me, his eyes glinting in the fire.
The way he was looking at me should have scared me—it was so intense and possessive—but all it did was make me feel wanted and loved.
“Saint,” I breathed out, my fingers immediately going to his bare muscular chest, covered in stark tattoos.
Ones that I’d craved to trace for some time and now finally could without a second thought.
Well, it actually was far more than a second thought—it consumed me momentarily before I finally looked back up at him, caught by the heat in his gaze.
I swear this man was going to be the death of me. He left me absolutely breathless.
“Breathe, flower,” Saint demanded softly, smoothing a hand over my hair and keeping my head tilted up so that I continued to hold his gaze. “Everything is fine. We are in the wolf’s house—”
“Ashur.”
His name tickled my lips as I recounted the extreme way I seemed to react to him.
Outside of the nightmares on my team, I’d never had an instant reaction to someone like that before.
I suppose that said something rather important…
but I couldn’t focus on that right now. Not until I got more answers into what the hell was going on.
Saint tilted his head curiously. “The bastard told you his name?”
“Hey.” I tapped his nose. “No name-calling.”
His smile was amused as he propped his head up with one arm, rolling us so that I was facing into his chest. “Is that so, flower? Has the wolf done something to earn your affection and protection?”
I blushed and narrowed my eyes. “I wouldn’t call it affection…”
“Protection then,” he goaded, not in a critical way but obviously very curious about my emotions towards Ashur.
“I just don’t think we should call him names,” I pointed out. “Especially if we are in his house.”
Saint examined my face for a minute before flashing a smile. “You got it, flower. I am going to fully enjoy seeing him interact with you after years of living as a wolf. As for the name-calling…that’s my love language. You can’t take that away from me.”
“Your love language?” I couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from my mouth because Saint didn’t have a love language—and if he did, it was gift-giving.
I would know. I tried to not think about what my love languages were because I had a feeling it would make me all emotional because of how these men completed so many important parts of my life.
“That and gift-giving,” he conceded before his expression turned more serious. “Everything is okay, Arabella. I promise. We came here because it flooded last night. You passed out in the clearing and slept for over twelve hours. Everyone else made it here safe as well. Nothing to worry about.”
Oh, I was positive we could find plenty to worry about, but I appreciated his calming attempt. I think it was becoming obvious that the only thing that could get me stressed was the possibility of my men being in danger.
“What about Peace?” Her broken expression immediately came to mind.
“The library has been set up as a temporary bedroom. She’s been healing—she’s been mostly unconscious since the incident in the clearing, but she seems like she will recover,” Saint noted helpfully, none of his normal amusement present.
His eyes warmed after a second, pressing our foreheads together.
“You’re too damn sweet, flower. Always worrying about everyone else. ”
“It’s a bit easier to deal with than everything else,” I admitted.
I couldn’t help but appreciate Saint in the moment, his normal bluntness providing immediate responses to all my predicted questions.
The details could come later, but he had given me everything essential.
I could feel my body relaxing, the tension from worrying about my boys disappearing.
Not gone completely, at least until I saw all of them, but it very much helped.
My gaze turned blurry for a minute as I processed everything that had happened with Hate and then the power that had broken out of me and what I’d been able to do…what I’d been able to see. Despite my life being the same as before, I felt like I was looking at everything through fresh eyes.
Inhaling sharply, I opened my mouth to express what I’d seen, but Saint interrupted in the best way possible. He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, and instantly my entire body melted against him, his dominance winning out as he once again rolled us so that I was trapped underneath him.
And I was trapped, for the record. Unless Saint let me, there was no way I could get out from under this 6’9” god terror on my own…
and I loved it. There was something so hot about knowing my nightmares could dominante me physically, that I would have to do whatever they wanted, especially if it included holding me down…
Damnit. I was going to need a cold shower if I didn’t get my brain on the right track.
Although Saint really was terrifying to most people, so that type of sexiness was hard to ignore.
The man who I had once thought was a simple reaper was anything but.
No, my mate was the literal embodiment of Death within this realm.
I wish I could tell you I didn’t find that extremely sexy, but that would be a lie.
“We are going to figure all of this out.” Saint’s voice was tinged with concern, as if worried I wouldn’t believe him. I did though. I also appreciated that he said ‘we’ instead of ‘I,’ including the men he still wouldn’t admit to being friends with.
“I know,” I responded softly. Saint’s dark charcoal eyes turned silver in a flash before darkening again. I knew it was because of the mercury-shaded ring around his pupil that changed based on his emotions—the effect was sort of trippy.
“As for the stuff with Hate and those other bastards, fuck them. And your power—”
I placed my fingers over his lips and inhaled, realizing that I wasn’t ready for the full conversation yet. I wasn’t overwhelmed… I didn’t know what I was, exactly.
I examined Saint’s concerned expression and the way his black wavy hair, streaked with silver, seemed messy as if he had been running his fingers through it.
The nightmare usually had a rough sort of dangerous edge to him, but right now he looked like he hadn’t slept for days, uncharacteristically darker emotions filling his face and making me worry.
“I know everything will work out,” I said before examining his gaze, “I trust you, Saint. I trust all of you…I just feel a bit off since the clearing.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to feel normal,” he rumbled.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Saint functioned on a daily basis with an intensity and indifference I didn’t know was possible to combine.
It was like nothing bothered him, and the things that did were usually minor, petty arguments with Amun or one of the others.
That didn’t mean he didn’t need to be checked up on, though.
Assuming there was some truth to all of the god terrors being close like family, that level of betrayal on Peace and even Saint wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
“Am I okay?” He blinked as if confused by the statement before a darkness filled his gaze. “No, flower. I am not okay.”
I knew he would tell the truth; it was one of the many things I loved about Saint.
“Hate could have taken you”—he snapped—“that easily. If you had stepped closer to him, he could have snatched you, and I would have lost you… And then you went and soothed all of those nightmares. It was glorious, and so fucking hard to see. You didn’t even care how much danger you were in.
And that was before you forced a god terror to do something they didn’t want to—fucking scared him into leaving.
It was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you coming into a source of magic I didn’t even know existed, which rendered you unconscious—”
“Saint.” I clasped his jaw so he’d stop talking. He let out a low rumble, putting his head down to rest it against my neck for a moment before finally pulling back and looking at me.
“I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all with the prospect of losing you, whether that’s to a god terror, humans, or your own fucking magic.”
His truth radiated through me. The embodiment of Death, the man who turned into a 9-foot-tall grim reaper with silver gem-like eyes and flowing robes…was not okay. Saint not being okay was one of the most surprising things I’d ever heard.
I pressed a soft kiss to his lips before telling him exactly how I felt. “I love you, Saint,” I whispered, my voice a bit wobbly with emotion. “I love you, and I know I am beyond safe with all of you. You’re never going to lose me.”
Saint inhaled sharply at my words and let out a low rumble. “I love you so fucking much, flower.”