Chapter 4 Arabella
Chapter Four
ARABELLA
“Hey, Razar?” A small surprised noise left my lips as the man appeared right behind me in the mirror.
He’d been looking out the window by my desk, then was across my room and into the bathroom where I’d been getting ready, all in a mere second.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was mostly used to it, but the intense concern on his face had me feeling a bit off.
I wasn’t used to seeing him look so unraveled.
Despite my reassurances, I knew I would never be able to completely remove that look from any of their faces, but especially not Razar’s. I saw guilt there as well, which I hated but knew was unavoidable because of his intense sense of protectiveness when it came to me.
Something I loved, truth be told—except when it put him this on edge.
“Yes?” he asked, his low, rough voice rolling over my skin as his crimson eyes darkened to a deep maroon on the edges.
Sometimes it blew my mind that this night terror had been with me my entire life, that I had been given such an amazing blessing from the fates in the form of both a friend and so much more.
How I had managed to not attack him until recently was beyond me.
His large hand came over my hip as if knowing where my thoughts were, his gaze dipping along my neckline where my shirt hung a bit lower than normal, showing off a hint of cleavage.
It had been an attempt at a more ‘badass’ outfit to inspire bravery during the battle, and it had the unintentional effect of showing off the edge of the bite mark he’d left on the swell of my breast. It was something I wore as a badge of honor, so I didn’t mind in the least, and I was thrilled because the bite mark didn’t seem to bother him nearly as much as the bruises he’d left on me.
I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been able to stand the sight of his mating mark.
Each mark from each of my mates was so incredibly special, and the sleeveless tank I wore, crafted from soft molded leather, showcased almost all of them.
Ashur’s wolf necklace sat right against my throat, and I felt like it almost directly drew attention to the skull on my sternum from Saint, despite it not being currently visible.
Along my throat also sat a patch of snakeskin from Cy that flashed in the light but was slightly less noticeable than the way my scar glittered with a ruby light from Zain.
Not only that, but underneath my scar was a permanent black heart from Damian, as well as a pink ring around the iris of my silvery white eye.
Both it and the scar had bothered me for so long, but no more.
Now I was proud of it because two of my mates had embellished the scar in a possessive and claiming way.
My gaze momentarily dipped to the bracelet tattooed on my wrist from Amun, loving the way it decorated my skin.
I wished the brands on my hips from Blackwell were just as visible, but I had purposefully worn low-rise jeans so they would peek over the top—I knew he would like that.
“Arabella.” Razar kissed my ear, drawing me back into the present.
“Sorry, just appreciating all my marks,” I admitted. I turned into him and let my head fall back, looking all the way up into his handsome face. “I was just going to say I’m ready to go.”
“I want to keep you locked up in this room and pinned to the ceiling until I handle everything going on outside,” Razar said point-blank, exhaling sharply as if he had been holding it in.
“I don’t want you to be part of any of this shit.
I want you to be safe and forget it’s even fucking happening. ”
He closed his eyes and groaned, putting his head down. “But I can’t and won’t stop you. I just need you to promise me that you’ll be careful, Arabella.”
“I will,” I said softly, thankful that he seemed to understand how important this was to me. “I’m always safe with you.”
His energy pulsed around me, always seeming to love when I said anything like that, as he nodded sharply.
A knock on the door had us both looking over to find Amun standing in the doorway.
He looked amused, but I wasn’t sure why.
Razar let out a frustrated groan before shaking his head, pissed at being disturbed.
Dipping his head, he pressed a hard kiss to my lips before storming past Amun, going back into my bedroom to finish whatever he had been doing, presumably.
“I didn’t even say anything,” Amun grumbled, causing my lips to press up.
I wouldn’t lie, I had no idea how the mummy kept finding himself in the middle of fights or becoming the brunt of violence, but it was becoming a bit funny.
Not funny because he was getting hurt, but more because he seemed so grumpy about it.
Not mad—just literally grumpy about it.
“I think everyone is a bit on edge,” I said as the legend terror approached, his fluorescent green eyes running over me and focusing on my wrist with a hum of approval.
Amun hadn’t changed out of his uniform, and while he technically matched everyone else, there was a distinctly rougher note to him.
His dark, shoulder-length hair was wild looking, and the scars that covered what I could see of his skin, despite being covered in tattoos, only added to the effect.
The man was thousands of years old, and while that side came out often, there was another that was a lot more curious and lighthearted.
It was a side that when all of this was over, I hoped he could let out more.
“Rightfully so—they are attacking our home.” Amun cupped my jaw, and I broke into a massive smile. Part of it was what he said, but it was also the sensation of being surrounded by his scent of parchment and oil.
He tilted his head with a curious look. “What made you smile, precious?”
“You called it ‘our’ home.”
“It is my home. You’re my home,” he said, leaning into my touch as my fingers ran up his jaw.
From the moment I met Amun, I’d felt a connection, a rightness, and him calling this place his home only solidified the truth. The truth I had felt when I had let him mark me, when I had let him kiss me, when I had, from the beginning, let his magic roll against mine despite the danger.
“Amun?”
“Yes, precious?”
“I love you.”
His eyes almost crackled with lightning as he stared at me for a long moment before his lips met mine in a dangerously hot kiss. I let out a whimper as he finally pulled back, pinning me with a look full of need and so much affection it was nearly overwhelming.
“I love you. I have loved you from the start. Whether that is rational or sane doesn’t even matter because I love you. My mark is on you because you’re mine and I’m yours.”
And I loved that so, so incredibly much.
“Ours,” Damian called out from the other room. “She’s ours.”
Amun chuckled. “Starting to understand what Saint meant about me putting myself in these situations.”
I let out a soft hum, going up on my toes to kiss him. “I love it.”
“Yes, we all love Amun so much,” Damian said in the driest voice possible, appearing in the door and offering me a small smile. “So thrilled to have you here, buddy—now get out. I need to talk to cherry blossom.”
Amun sighed, giving me a kiss before he left, ignoring Damian’s narrowed gaze.
When he was gone, Damian flashed forward, lifting me up so we were eye level.
I couldn’t help but smile as I peered into his beautiful gold eyes and inhaled his cigar and mint scent.
I reached up, running my fingers over his horns and trying not to get turned on, but as always, all I could think about was all the times when those horns would be useful while we were doing much more entertaining things than dealing with some overblown, egotistical god terror.
“You wanted to talk?” I asked curiously. I felt him grow tense, but I knew it was because of my touch. For a long moment he only stared at me, trying to control his reaction.
I didn’t like his control.
Although I suppose with everything going on, now was not exactly the best time for it to break…
“Yes, although that is becoming harder,” he grumbled.
I bit my lip. “Not the only thing that’s hard…”
Damian kissed me, pushing me back against the wall of the bathroom. I whimpered, my legs wrapping around his large frame while being held up by his tail. His hands were on either side of me, and I felt completely trapped in the best way possible.
“Do not say that right now,” he growled, pulling back. “We need to go to this meeting before I strip you bare and fuck you.”
“That’s not a threat,” I sang. He shook his head, looking broody as he carried me from the bathroom and dropped me down right in front of Blackwell. Clearly whatever he needed to talk to me about wasn’t that important. He probably just wanted to be alone with me. Damian was cute like that.
The others were gathered by the door, ready to leave.
“Hey, you.” I offered Blackwell a happy smile.
“Don’t give me that,” he rumbled, offering me a speculative look.
Blackwell was not nearly as willing to compromise as the others—in fact, I was surprised he was even letting me out of the room.
I noticed briefly, as the others walked ahead and he ran a hand over my back, that he had changed into a pinstripe suit that fit perfectly to his 6’9” frame.
His black hair was slicked back, his burning fire scent running over my skin as his dark eyes seemed to stare into my soul when they flickered down to me, willing me to bring up what was going on here.
I sighed. “Why are you upset?”
“Upset?” He chuckled softly. “I’m not upset, I’m fucking worried. Really worried. Furious you were injured and scared it will happen again. I’m not upset, love—I’m terrified.”
Damian came to a full stop and offered his best friend a look I didn’t fully understand, Amun and Razar walking ahead. Blackwell nodded for us to continue, him and Damian seeming to have a silent conversation before the first continued on.
I mulled over his words. Blackwell…was scared.
I turned into him and wrapped my arms around him, burying my head against his muscular torso. He let out a low rumble but wrapped his arms around me.
“Thank you for understanding why I need to be part of this,” I murmured. “I know it’s the last thing you want.”
“I want you safe, and I want you happy. As much as I would love to throw your little ass over my shoulder and lock you away somewhere, I know you would be mad—actually mad.” Blackwell sighed. “So we are going to do this. You aren’t leaving my fucking side though.”
I was more than okay with that.
After another squeeze, the five of us continued towards the meeting, my comfort melting away as we grew closer to the conference room.
I wanted to know how our people were doing and what the status of the institute was outside of our wards.
I needed to know, and the lack of knowledge had me feeling on edge.
A short elevator ride took us to the room that we’d met in before leaving for our road trip, and the minute we stepped out into the hallway I knew something was off.
Cy. His energy was everywhere.
I broke away from the others and hurried down the hall, nearly slamming right into the man as he pushed out of the meeting room doors.
I stumbled, almost falling after hitting his hard chest, but he easily snatched me up and pulled me against him.
I inhaled his minty scent and didn’t even realize he had me pinned to the wall so far away from anyone until Saint’s voice rang out.
“Flower, he’s a bit of a mess right now.”
Pulling back from where I was buried against his neck, his hands holding my waist, I examined his hypnotic eyes and realized I had never seen Cy this upset before. He was visibly trembling with the effort to calm down.
“Cy.” I ran a hand over his cheek as his gaze hyper-focused on mine, holding it to the point that I almost felt dizzy. “I need you to breathe.”
“I can’t,” he said, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. “I can’t watch you get hurt, pixie. I will have that image of your skin being burned in my head for the rest of my life. I can’t handle that. The idea of you being hurt sends me fucking reeling.”
“I know,” I soothed, “but I’m fine. I’m a lot more durable than before.”
“We should have protected you better,” he bit out. “You shouldn’t have to be durable.”
“Cy.” I used the strongest voice I could manage. “I need you to listen to me.”
“I hear everything you say,” he whispered, his jaw so tight I worried it would shatter. At least his breathing was starting to steady.
“I will get hurt. It’s just life; it’s going to happen.
It’s happened before, and it will happen again.
I’m a mostly human woman mated to eight nightmares and living at an institute filled with them.
I’m engaged in a war with humans, and I am going to fight to protect our home.
And that’s not even including normal stuff, like when I have children or shit like that—”
“This isn’t helping,” he groaned.
“The point I’m making is that there’s nothing we can do about it. Pain is part of life, but I know you will protect me and try to stop it. I trust you, so trust yourself as well. Today we were unprepared, which is why we’re having this meeting, because that shit is done with.”
“Exactly, Cy.” Saint’s voice was relatively relaxed, but I knew him well enough to see that the man walking towards us was on edge. “So chill out and let’s get in there.”
Cy let out a long exhale, letting me slide down his frame. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before tugging my hand gently to follow him. Saint intercepted, though, tugging me around the waist.
“I love you,” I called out to Cy as he continued down the hall without us, lost in his own thoughts.
He looked over his shoulder and offered me a tight smile, the tension not gone but for sure lessened.
I think being able to hold me had helped, and it didn’t surprise me completely—Cy always did better with communication through touch.
“Flower—”
“No, no, no.” I cut him off before he could even start. “Seriously, Saint, you are not going to tell me about how you don’t think this is a good idea—”
Saint chuckled softly. “No, I think it’s a good idea.”
“Oh.” My brows furrowed. “You look all tense and worried.”
Saint let out a low rumble and captured my jaw. “I am worried about you, flower, but what I was going to say…”
“Yeah?”
“I need permission from you to bury all those motherfuckers out there.”