Chapter 8 #2
“Between you, Liam, and Sloane, we’ll walk away with more information on the opposition than he will. That’s the best we can ask for in this situation.”
As I stacked pancakes on the plate, a peculiar queasiness swept through me. I lifted the milk carton to take a sniff and make sure it hadn’t gone off, but it was fine. Then it hit me. “Pancakes.”
A breakfast comfort food. I had made them on reflex. They were my go-to for guests.
“Pancakes,” Rían echoed, placing a hand over his stomach. “I wasn’t going to say anything but…”
Not so long ago, Liam and Sloane had burnt pancakes into frisbee-like discs, told me Goldie made them for me, and guilted me into eating them. Except Rían had taken half the stack upon himself. Now both of us had delayed-onset pancake trauma.
“What do you say we divvy this up between Goldie and Sloane then hit a diner for breakfast?”
“Yes,” he rushed out, angling so he wouldn’t even catch a glimpse of syrup from the corner of his eye.
The noise hadn’t woken Goldie or Sloane, so I fixed them plates and placed them in the oven. I wrote them a quick note explaining where we had gone and stuck it to the coffee table where the neon pink was sure to grab their attention.
After a quick change, I brushed my hair and teeth, checked for my phone and wallet, and escaped the buttery scent lingering in the kitchen.
Rían and I sneaked out and hit the sidewalk.
With the town open for business, I didn’t have to check the hours on Egging You On.
They did an all-day brunch that, while it would put us in the firing line for more of that unwelcome smell, was to die for.
Halfway to the restaurant, a slight figure dressed in black sweats with a hoodie concealing their hair hustled across the street, and my senses came alive with suspicion.
I couldn’t pinpoint why my danger radar was pinging, and I couldn’t pick up a scent.
I took one step forward, intending to confront them.
“That’s Jael.” Rían gripped my forearm. “She’s nocturnal.
That’s why she dresses like that. Her eyes are very sensitive to light, so she always wears dark sunglasses and a hoodie or hat to shield her face if she has to go out during the day.
It’s rare to see her before dusk. That’s probably why you haven’t noticed her until now. ”
“Oh.” I backed down, even though instinct continued nudging at me. “I guess I’m on edge.”
“You have every reason to be.” He released me. “Things won’t always be like this.”
“I know.” I breathed easier when we reached the diner and the warm scents of fresh bread and sugar hit my nose as I let us in. “Are we on for tonight?”
“Yes.” He cut his gaze left to right. “I need to discuss a few things with key people, then I’ll update you.”
Message received, loud and clear. We might be in clan territory, but it wasn’t safe to have those kinds of conversations where anyone could overhear. I hated how the reminder dragged down Rían’s good mood.
“Fayne is terrified that Liam and Sloane will become an item.” As we took our seats, I blurted out the one thing I felt certain would snare his attention.
“She’s a wise woman.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “The two of them cause enough trouble individually. As a couple, they would rain down chaos and catastrophe.”
“I really don’t see a difference between that and what they’re already doing, honestly.”
“Fair point.”
“Those invisible-fence things are meant to keep dogs in your yard, right?” I attempted to picture a life where Sloane and Liam were our neighbors. “Do you think they would work to keep relatives out?”
“As long as there are windows in our house, they’ll find a way.”
The menu I had been perusing slipped from my fingers to slide across the floor.
“I mean…” His ears burned red. “It will be our house. One day.” He reached for the glass of water before him. “After we’re officially mated. Or married.” He chugged it all in one go. “Whatever you want or don’t want is fine with me.”
“No.” I hid my face behind my hands. “I hadn’t considered it. The logistics. Of homeownership. Not mating.” Now it was my turn to ramble. “I already live there, and it feels homey, so…” I lowered my forehead to the table. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’ve got so many more important things on your mind.
” He pushed my hair behind my ear. “This is a problem that can wait. I don’t want to pressure you, so I haven’t mentioned it.
” He ducked low, trying to catch my eye.
“I’m just happy having you at home with me.
Even if a spare room is all you ever want, or you pull a Burdock and decide to only visit me on weekends, I’ll be happy. ”
“You would be okay with me crashing at your place on weekends?” A snort escaped me, and I leaned in close to whisper in his ear.
That failed spectacularly, until I gripped his shoulder and yanked him down to my level.
“A guy who ran off to seal a pact with a black witch thinks I will ever leave him unsupervised again?” I bit his lobe.
Hard. “Are you trying to land yourself in a Little Mermaid situation where you barter your voice next?”
Pink rushed into his cheeks, his breath hitching, and I don’t think he could blame embarrassment. Not just embarrassment anyway. I got the sense he enjoyed my teeth piercing his skin.
All of a sudden, I was reminded of the first time we met, and the fangs that had been on display.
“I would say I’ve learned my lesson, but if it keeps you near me, then I’m willing to wear a seashell bra.”
Any dirty thoughts I might have been entertaining about his mouth evaporated as a new mental picture flashed in my mind’s eye.
On his gigantic dragon, seashells would be little more than nipple pasties.
Oh, yeah. No doubt about it. That was going to stick with me for days.
And by days, I meant forever.
As loathe as I was to sacrifice our rare private time on clan duty, I used our mini date to learn as much as I could about dragonsbane, its origin, and its effects on dragons and non-dragons.
He gave me an update on Becca, and we delved into other possible scenarios to flesh out my understanding until I was satisfied I grasped the risk to our scaled clanmates, as well as to myself.
Our stolen moment stretched into an hour as we savored our meals and then beyond as we bounced from topic to topic, catching up as if it had been weeks instead of hours since we last saw each other.
No sooner than we polished off our coffees did Liam walk in with a laptop stuck under his arm. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, which were bloodshot, and he slid onto a stool at the counter without so much as looking our way.
An older woman carried a pot of coffee to him, sat it on a coaster at his elbow, then poured him a mug from another one. She set a pitcher of creamer and a tray of sweetener next to the rest. He grunted out a thank you, I think, and she pinched his cheek with fondness.
Meanwhile, Rían and I had gone stiff, shocked he hadn’t invited himself to join us. Except Liam appeared to be too sleep-deprived to notice we sat a few booths away from his perch. It was odd for Liam to be so unplugged from reality. Especially in dangerous times like these.
Our waitress placed our bill on the table and began gathering our dishes, but I barely noticed for staring at Liam, who hadn’t twitched after opening a browser tab on his laptop.
Before she made her escape, I asked, “Does he come here often?”
“Every day, except when he travels for clan business.” She jerked her chin toward the older woman. “Bettina lost her son to a hunter about two years ago. Liam was the one to tell her. She has no one else, so he’s been dropping in to check on her ever since.”
“Bettina.” Rían tilted his head. “I wondered why he put her name on the list for Brentwood, but he was adamant she come with us. I wasn’t aware they had developed a friendship.”
“He strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn’t want anyone glimpsing his softer side.” The waitress sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “Pity.” She shook her head. “He sure is pretty to be such an ass.”
That alone convinced me she was telling the truth about him dropping in daily, when his schedule permitted.
Had it been less often, he might have succeeded in hiding behind his nice-guy facade, but anyone who put up with him for any length of time was bound to see his true colors at some point.
Not to say he was a terrible person, but he was ornery.
And particular. And opinionated. And vocal about said opinions.
Yeah.
I was glad I had wormed my way into his good graces.
But none of this explained his sluggish behavior, vacant staring, or total lack of situational awareness.
“There’s something wrong with him.”
“Probably more than one thing,” she lamented, eyeing him up and down.
“No.” I slid out of the booth. “I mean I think he’s sick.”
Rían followed my lead, passing a wad of money to the waitress to cover our bill and her tip, and we approached Liam cautiously to ensure we didn’t startle him.
Even when I stood at his shoulder, he didn’t do more than slow blink at me.
Rían got a slightly warmer greeting, a faint twitch of lips that should have been a smile.
“You don’t look so hot.” I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. “You’re not feverish, though.”
“Hmph.” He attempted to sip his coffee, but his hand shook too hard to hold the cup. “Ri…?”
As if someone had bonked him over the head with a cartoon hammer, he jerked then fell backward off the stool into Rían’s waiting arms. I helped maneuver Liam over Rían’s shoulder into a fireman’s hold to make carrying him to Burdock easier.