Chapter Three #2
“Don’t be sad,” Lake told him. “I’m not upset with you. I’m only glad you bit me and not Evan.” He cocked his head as Oreo emitted small grumbles. “Ah. You’d never bite him? That’s reassuring. He doesn’t heal as fast as I do.”
It was cool as hell witnessing them speak in their special way. Lake really did understand him.
The leaves above us came alive, stirring with another breeze. Taps then sounded. One at first, then another, before it spread like a crescendo in the percussion section of an orchestra. The rain song.
“Evan?” Maddox called from the back door. “Are you out here?”
Oreo darted away from us, and the bushes rustled before he vanished from sight.
“Yeah, we’re here!” I grabbed the plate and stood back up. Lake and I turned from the woods and headed back toward the cottage. Raindrops landed on top of my head, and flashes lit up the sky, closely followed by another loud boom.
Maddox opened the door wider and stepped onto the porch. “A storm’s coming. Why are you outside?”
“Um.” I went up the steps, guided by Lake’s hand at my lower back. Not the injured one though. He kept that one at his side and hidden from a certain captain’s view.
“Um isn’t an answer.” Maddox led me inside right as the rain really hit. It pelted against the window as we walked into the kitchen.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll like the real answer.” I set the plate in the sink and fidgeted.
“Evan…”
“Oreo was outside,” I blurted out. “We fed him the steak left over from dinner.”
“The Fenrir came here?” Unease flickered in Maddox’s eyes, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “And you went outside to see him? Gods, sweetheart.” He lowered his hand and gave me a disbelieving look. “What were you thinking?”
“I wanted to thank him.”
Maddox eyed me for a few excruciating seconds before glancing at Lake. “What happened to your hand, wolf?” He missed nothing.
Lake glanced at me, then back at him. “An accident, is all.”
“An accident,” our captain repeated in a clipped tone. “One that involved him biting you?”
“The thunder frightened him.” Lake examined his hand. “He meant no harm.”
“Yet, he caused harm anyway,” Maddox countered with a growl. “The beast bit you. How could you be so reckless? What if he’d bitten Evan? What possessed you to—”
“He wouldn’t bite Evan,” Lake interjected, hands balled into fists. “He told me so.”
Maddox scoffed. “He’s a demon. Violence is in their nature. And you let our male near it? Have you gone mad?”
“That demon saved him.” Lake’s eyes turned a vibrant purple. A sign of his agitation. “Perhaps you should stop being a stubborn ass and show some gratitude.”
Stubborn ass? Holy crap.
“Don’t fight,” I begged them. Unfortunately, neither seemed to have heard me. I braced myself for the imminent explosion.
“You’ve been around the thief too long,” Maddox snapped. “His ways have started rubbing off on you. Foul-mouthed and insolent.”
“Rowan is blunt, yet honest,” Lake said. “He speaks his mind. And he doesn’t hesitate to put you in your place when needed.”
“My place? And where is that, wolf?”
The two of them hadn’t argued like this in a long time. I guess nothing lasted forever. Just as I was preparing to jump between them, a crack of thunder rattled the walls.
My knees wobbled.
“Sweetheart?” Maddox caught me against his chest and smoothed his hand over my hair. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
Lightning flickered outside the window. I clung to his shirt and squeezed my eyes closed, jolting as another crash sounded. A second set of arms came around me from behind. My wolf.
That was one way to stop them from fighting: be my pitiful, storm-fearing self.
“Wolf?” Maddox looked at him over my shoulder. “Forgive me. I was out of line earlier. The thought of Evan around a demon…”
“Worried you. I know.” Lake offered him a small smile. “I didn’t take it to heart.”
“How’s your hand?”
Lake lifted it to show us. “Nearly healed. Give it another hour and you won’t even know I was bitten.” As a demi-human, he healed a lot faster than ordinary humans. The puncture marks were mostly closed. Only dried blood remained.
“Briar can take a look at it when he comes home,” Maddox said. “Just in case.”
Lake smiled into the back of my hair. Maddox’s concern touched him. He then kissed my nape. “I’ll brew you some coffee. It always makes you feel better.”
He stepped toward the counter and grabbed my favorite mug. A strong wind pushed against the cottage, and rain came down hard.
“Ev?” Callum stepped into the kitchen and came over, taking Lake’s place from earlier. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I nuzzled Maddox once more before turning to do the same to Callum, breathing in his familiar scent of vanilla bean and sunshine. It grounded me. “I’m a mighty muffin lord, remember? Thunder is no match for me.”
“Aye.” The tenderness in his brown eyes did strange things to my heart.
“Who won the brownie-eating contest?” I asked.
“I did, of course.” He beamed with a smile, adding a burst of sunlight to combat the raging storm. “Quincy could only fit three in his mouth before laughing. I managed five.”
“Before laughing? Uh-oh. I take it there’s mushy bits of brownie all over the floor?”
Callum flashed his dimple. “Loser had to clean up the mess.”
I shook my head. Silly boys.
After the coffee was ready, we retreated to the parlor and sat beside the fire—me between Maddox and Callum on the couch, while Lake sat on the floor in front of me, tipping his head back in a silent request for me to pet his silver hair.
Duke, Quincy, and Baden joined us in the parlor, bringing another platter of brownies, along with an assortment of cookies. Mainly oatmeal raisin and lemon white chocolate.
“The three of you can plan on sleeping here tonight,” Maddox told the knights. “The storm doesn’t seem like it’ll be letting up anytime soon.”
“Yes, sir.” Baden nodded to him.
“Such a pity.” Quincy exaggerated a sigh and patted his belly. “That means we’ll be here come breakfast.”
Duke smirked from the top of his mug. “I’m sure you’re tore up over it. Forced to eat all those cake pans.”
I nearly spewed my coffee. Quincy loved pancakes, but the first time I’d made them, he couldn’t remember what they were called. Of course, his brothers in arms wouldn’t let him forget that slip of the tongue.
Cake pans for life.
The storm continued outside, less intense than earlier.
Once the front came through, the wind died down some, leaving a steady rain and the occasional rumble of thunder.
Nothing severe, just as Lake said. The knights bantered, and the air felt so light.
Heaviness found me again, though, as I glanced toward the window and thought of Briar. He still wasn’t home.
“Anyone need a refill?” I asked, rising from the couch with my empty mug. “Tea? Coffee?”
“I’ll take more ale, if ya have it,” Duke said.
“Coffee for me,” Baden chimed in. “The brown sugar blend you brewed this time is addictive.”
“Any more of these?” Quincy asked with his mouth full of the last lemon cookie.
“I’ll see what I can find,” I said with a short laugh and exited the parlor.
In the kitchen, I brewed more coffee, found a half-full tankard of ale, and hunted for sweets. Anything to keep me moving. Because thoughts about Briar and the mercenary were making me restless. Anxious.
“There you go pacing again,” a voice said from the shadowy corner near the pantry. “Keep it up and you’ll wear out the floorboards.”
I halted in step. “Ro?”
“The one and only.” The darkness swirled before Rowan stepped from the shadows. And lord help me, he was wearing his spy clothes: dressed in black from head to toe with a hood pulled up over his hair. A thin black mask covered his face from the nose down, showing only his topaz eyes. “Miss me?”
“Always,” I said, my voice shaking. One that had nothing to do with fear. As he walked toward me, slow and almost predatorily, my mouth went dry.
His favorite dagger was strapped to his thigh, and smaller ones were sheathed in his belt. I would’ve bet my entire supply of coffee beans more daggers were tucked out of sight too—beneath his cloak, hidden in the leather cuffs on his wrist, and at least one in his boot.
“Yeah?” Rowan took hold of my jaw and tipped it up slightly. “Tell me how much.”
All my blood rushed south. “Can’t right now. I’ve lost the ability to think.”
“Yet, you can somehow still speak,” came a different voice from behind me, the accent heavy and reminiscent of a Russian one from my old world.
I turned to see Draven. He and Reign stood under the archway between the kitchen and back door, both also dressed in black from head to toe and wearing masks. Draven’s face was a mystery. All I’d seen were his baby blue eyes and pale blond hair I’d caught glimpses of beneath his hood.
“Evenin’, gents,” I said, hands going to my hips. “Fancy a cuppa tea?”
Rowan choked on a laugh. At my random attempt at a Cockney accent, no doubt. It happened on occasion, usually when I was super nervous.
“Tea sounds nice,” Reign said, his mismatched eyes crinkling with a smile, the left one brown and the right a deep shade of blue. “Quite the chill out there tonight. Mug of something warm would be appreciated.”
Like with Draven, I’d never seen Reign’s face either. The mystery of what lay beneath their masks intrigued me. However, I had seen Draven lift the bottom of said mask once to eat a chocolate chip cookie. A jawline so sharp it could cut glass.
“Of course.” I stepped over to the stove and put on a kettle. “What brings y’all to the cottage?”
“To see you,” Reign said with that same eye-crinkling smile. “How is it possible you’ve become even cuter since we last spoke? Perhaps you have a touch of magic in you after all, Evan Clark.”