Chapter 15 Jasmine #2
“You had the four of us last night.” He brings in the hand I’m holding, in turn pulling me closer. “Does the prospect of having us all again make you nervous?”
My mouth parts.
Because the tone isn’t dry or accusatory. It’s teasing.
Is Kane… is he talking like this on purpose? The way his lips still hold that soft curve tells me he is.
I forgot he could feel my emotions. Not fully, not exactly, but he’s told me before that, as a demon, he doesn’t have many of his own. That’s what makes it worse. Because when you rarely feel anything yourself, someone like me, an empath, hits harder. Probably doesn’t help that we’re… bonds.
But he’s clearly misreading me, because it isn’t being around the four of them that makes me nervous. It’s how I react to them.
Even now, after food and sleep has steadied me, I know how easily their emotions slip into mine. How quickly they muddle everything.
I have to be careful. I can’t afford to forget which feelings are mine, and which belong to them.
“I’m not nervous.” I close my eyes, breathe in. Try to ignore how close we are, how his darkness caresses me.
But his soft chuckle at my obvious lie forces me to look at him.
Everything in me softens. My eyes dart over his face, tracing the soft hollow of his cheeks, the cat-like shape of his eyes, how his irises are dotted with specks of grey like stardust.
He’s so beautiful.
And then… I feel him. “I make you nervous,” I blurt. It’s a soft statement, quiet, because I’m not saying it to tease or be cruel.
I expect him to recoil, reinforce the mask Kane keeps just beneath the surface, ready to shutter in place when things get too real—
Cool fingers slide over my ribs, my vision blurs and the room loses its vibrancy as his eyes lock with mine. “You make me feel many things, empath.”
Abort. Danger.
This is… He’s…
He’s ours.
This is not the time, scary voice.
Then he smiles, a sliver of his teeth peeking out, and I swear I’m seconds from grabbing his chest plate—
Soft murmurs circle me as the space around us comes into focus. Somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere new.
He flitted.
The bastard.
Inky tendrils of my power wrap around me, protective and instinctive. But he’s here, and he’s still holding me. One hand resting on my side above my hip, the other still gripping mine.
I step back, and he lets go.
My gaze sweeps the unfamiliar space, my darkened sight dulling the edge of my rising panic.
Wherever we are, there are more people than just us. I can hear them, feel them, my power already sweeping out and feeding.
Then the smell hits me. Sweet and buttery. For some reason, it eases me.
“Enforcer, please let me show you to your table.” An older woman with a pale pink apron and soft grey hair curled into a sweeping bun stands before us.
Eyes lowered. Not a threat.
“Martha, it’s fine,” Kane replies, which is a strange response to what she’s said.
Martha’s thinning brows furrow, just before she looks up.
“Oh, my dear.” Her face splits into a large grin, and her warmth, her affection, slams into me. I don’t have a chance to gain my bearings before she’s directly before me. “I’m so glad you came! They weren’t sure, you see, so I made extra just in case. They told me which ones you like.”
She’s still beaming at me, but I’ve no idea what she’s saying. I cast a wary glance at Kane.
“Martha is a patisserie,” Kane elaborates, with a ridiculously attractive French accent to boot. “She makes the pastries you’ve had before.”
My gaze snaps back to Martha. “They’re the best things I’ve ever tasted.”
She claps her hands and a soft mist of flour fills the air. “Just wait until you’ve had them fresh!” Then she turns, heading into the back and what I assume is a kitchen.
Kane doesn’t waste time, his darkness curls around my back, gently encouraging me to follow.
I stare at his retreating form, feeling the cool embrace of his shadows. There was a time he wouldn’t have given me the choice. He would’ve dragged me with him, without pause or question.
But now, he’s not making me follow. He’s silently asking.
And I do.
But I hadn’t prepared for this.
I didn’t know I’d be seeing them all again so soon. Last night was hard enough, but this?
All four of them, dressed in their enforcer uniforms.
This is cruel. Savage. Yes, I’ve seen them like this before, but that was weeks ago, before everything, and this is now.
How can anything be more deadly than this?
“Julien, are you trying to kill us, mate?” Sai murmurs, and I know I shouldn’t be able to hear it. He doesn’t even turn to Julien, his blinding gaze is fixed on me. “Last night’s outfit, then this?”
“I don’t think it’s the clothes.” Julien slowly stands, revealing all his towering glory.
A dark chest plate covers his pecs, sculpting his shoulders to look even broader, more imposing. But everything below… that grey, skin-tight long sleeve leaves nothing to the imagination—every ridge of his lean six-pack, every muscle beneath, on full display.
Holy Goddesses, give me strength…
I’ve completely stilled, lingering in the doorway, my eyes darting over each man in a repetitive cycle.
“Are we not holding back enough?” Ezekial’s voice slips into my thoughts—soft, concerned. Unaware I’m hearing it.
My sight darts to him, and stays.
Now I remember how well his chest plate, hard and rigid armour, draws the eye to those broad, brutal shoulders. Huge and solid. And I remember how close I was to him last night. How close I came to putting my hands on all that strength...
Wait. They’re holding back their powers, again?
And I still feel like this?
A flash of something sharp nips me. It douses some of this heated emotion, and I cling to it, latching onto the feeling of… worry?
They think I’m… leaving?
That’s how they’ve interpreted my hesitation.
I seek out the worst culprit, and his piercing eyes make it worse.
“Where should I sit?” My soft question freezes them. For a second.
Then they launch into a blur of action. All standing, all silently offering their chairs, ignoring the fact there are several empty ones.
I bite my lip to smother the laugh dying to get out.
“Thank fuck that truth serum’s out of my system,” Sai mutters, “because my answer had nothing to do with a chair.”
I force a cough to stifle that laugh.
“You can sit right here, b—red.” Sai’s face immediately shuts down.
“Did you just call her bread?” Ezekial teases, and I can’t help but drink him in, the way his smile pulls at one side, revealing a hint of teeth as he runs a thumb across his lower lip. “Smooth, man. Very smooth.”
Sai keeps his eyes shut, gritting out, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Bread?” My laughter slips out, I can’t help it. Not with this internal bickering.
He groans, hand dragging down his face. “You caught that, huh?” He peeks at me through the gap in his fingers. That small action is painfully adorable.
Ezekial tsks mentally. “And you said Kane didn’t know how to flirt.”
Sai’s markings flare, his gaze cutting. “At least I wasn’t humping a fucking wall all night.”
“I—I wasn’t… I was just… near it,” Ezekial splutters.
I bite my lip, barely holding it together.
“Oh. My. Fuck.” Sai lets out a single, incredulous laugh. “You were actually humping it?”
“Gentleman, please can we postpone this conversation for when we are in lesser company.” Julien casts a stern look at both men. Then those deep, entrancing eyes flicker to me. “Please, take a seat, Jasmine.”
He gestures to the table.
A long, rectangular table which has too many empty seats, five to be exact. All the men are spread out with at least one empty chair between them.
“Do you always sit at tables like this?” I search the vacant restaurant. There’s no one else here but us, and there’s so many more suitable tables.
I hear the buzz of their minds as they consider my question, but I’m already moving, heading towards a table nestled in the corner. A large bay window sits behind it, covering it with warm light.
“We could sit here?” I point to the circular table. “Less space.” Without waiting for their response, I take the seat with my back to the window. “It’ll be easier for everyone to speak—”
To my right, the space fills with blue flickers, and a hum rushes along my skin just as Sai appears. To my left, a towering figure slips into the seat as though he had always been there. The two brothers follow behind, eyeing the remaining seats beside Julien and Sai with clear distaste.
“Before you fuckers say a thing, this is fair and you know it.” Sai leans back, draping his arm along the back of his chair, his fingertips graze the top of mine.
“I agree,” Julien adds.
I stifle my laughter again, turning to glance out the window at the many people rushing along the high street. I frown. “Why is it empty in here?”
“Martha opens up early for us. Perks of being an enforcer, Bread.” Sai smirks.
I groan. “No, please. No more nicknames, Sai.”
“No can do. It’s either baby or bread, so choose wisely.” He winks, his markings warming the back of my neck.
“Bread? Does someone want bread?” Martha sweeps into the room mid-conversation, oblivious. “I can bake some before you leave!”
She places a silver platter filled with pastries and a jug of coffee onto the table. All mentions of bread vanish as the warm, delicious smells fill the air.
“No need, Martha. Thank you,” Ezekial says with a polite, I-am-a-gentleman smile, which somehow makes him even more attractive.
“Enjoy my dears!” And with the clap of her hands, she scurries off.
There’s no time to consider my next move, because they’re all moving instantly. A mixture of shadows and flickers hovering over the table, all taking action.
There are cups of coffee in front of everyone before I can even blink, and the pastries soon follow on plates. I don’t know who’s doing what because they’re all doing something. Like a well-oiled machine, a repeated routine, and a soft warmth fills my stomach at the thought.
This is their routine, their norm, and they’ve included me.