Page 50

CHAPTER 49

S ipping fresh orange juice, I lean back into my seat and watch my girl. She barely slept last night after what she saw, and I know it’s weighing her down. We watch as she paces back and forth, her eyes a million miles away. She doesn’t even notice when Shamus slips into the room and sits with us at the table where breakfast is spread.

“How long has she been like this?” he asks worriedly.

“An hour,” I respond as I reach for some fruit. Jarek does at the same time, and our fingers brush, but he instantly jerks back.

“I am so sorry!” He drops to his knees before me, his head bowed. “That was an accident. I truly mean it.” He lifts his hand, and before I can even say anything, magic wraps around the fingers he touched me with and he breaks them. Cradling his injured hand to his chest, he continues to kneel.

“Jarek, it was an accident,” I murmur. “It’s fine.” They are all very good about giving me space without making me feel like an outsider. They joke and laugh with me like I am one of the guys, but they are very careful not to touch me. I even saw Tem fall over yesterday so he didn’t brush against me. It’s nice. I know Tate is behind it, and it only makes me care for her more.

Jarek rises, looking completely ashamed, so I put some fruit in a bowl and slide it towards him. “Heal your fingers and eat. We have more important things to deal with than an accidental touch.”

“Tate will not forgive me, accident or not,” he whispers.

“She will, but we won’t tell her. Eat,” I order, my eyes going back to Tate as she continues to pace, lost in her own world.

“What do we do?” Ronan murmurs. “She’s going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“I could tie her up,” the fae suggests leisurely as he throws a grape and catches it in his mouth. Out of all of us, he’s the most unbothered—no, that’s not the right word.

Excited. He wants this war. He wants bloodshed and death.

Tate is right, he’s evil, but he seems to be obsessed with her and she with him, so I cannot complain. I am just glad he’s on our side.

“I know you are worried about what you saw,” Shamus begins, trying to stop her pacing.

“Worried? We all should be,” she snaps. Tem paces at her side so she isn’t alone, and Addeus reaches up and hands her some toast, which she accepts without a word and begins to eat as she moves.

“The best way to avoid what you saw is to make them fear you, fear us, and show them we mean what we say, which means you need to hunt down all those who would stand against us.” Shamus catches her hand, stilling her movements, and he rises elegantly. His hand grips her chin possessively as her eyes flare. “Do what you do best, angel.”

“I don’t see how that will help.” Her eyes widen when he kisses her, and I giggle for her as she blushes, something I’ve never seen her do.

“Then trust me, angel. Do as I ask and let me worry about what you saw, okay? You do trust me, yes?” He waits, his hand cupping her cheek.

“Yes,” she whispers softly.

“Good.” He kisses her again before dragging her down onto his lap and sliding his iPad in front of her. “Then start here. I have been keeping dossiers.” I lean over, trying to read upside down, so he tilts it slightly so I can see, accommodating me without a word.

“He’s not a complete prick like you said,” I comment to Tate.

“Is that what she called me?” he scoffs. “I’m disappointed, angel. I expected more colourful words from you.”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring us as she scrolls through the folders. “This one.” She pulls up a burly, middle-aged man with a scraggly beard and hair. “I met him when I was a kid. I’d remember his face anywhere. I figured he was dead by now. He was a total asshole. My dad gave him that wicked scar on his face when he used me as bait without warning. I almost died.”

Shamus’s expression closes down as he scans the face. “I remember this one. I coded him red—extremely dangerous. He’s killed many innocents, I just can’t prove it, but his hunts are sloppy. It isn’t just monsters getting hurt, but humans too. He doesn’t care who gets in his way. He simply likes killing.”

“Then let’s give him what he wants.” Tate nods as she closes the file and looks at us. “I want you all showered and dressed and ready to go in ten.”

“This hair takes more than ten minutes, mortal,” the fae drawls.

“Then we’ll leave you behind and no murder for you,” she retorts.

“I can make it work.” He flicks his fingers and his hair is plaited back. His face now sparkles as if diamonds are trapped in his skin, and his casual clothes have been replaced by battle wear with a sword at his side. “Ready.”

“Show off,” I mutter.

“You too,” she warns me. “You don’t need to fuck around with your eyeliner again. Hurry up.”

“It’s my battle makeup,” I whine.

“I’ll help.” Jarek leans over, and magic slides across my face. A mirror appears, showing me my perfectly done makeup. I look like I normally do, only better. “As an apology.”

“Apology for what?” Tate’s voice is deadly cold, and I swear the room drops two degrees.

“I accidentally touched—” Jarek begins before I shove an apple in his mouth to silence him.

“Touched her?” Tate rises. “What did I say would happen if you did?”

His eyes widen, but he sits and accepts his fate, so I shove him from the chair. “Run, you fool, while we calm her down.”

Shamus wraps himself around Tate as she pulls a dagger, and I spread my arms, blocking her as Jarek rushes away. “It was an accident. No! Not the sword!”

We eventually calm her down, but she’s glaring daggers at a very sad looking Jarek. It’s especially worrying since she’s strapped to high heaven with weapons. When she goes to grab a blade, Ronan snatches it. “I’ll hold this for you.” He shoves it in a bag he appears with. She doesn’t look away from Jarek as she grabs for her shotgun. “And this.”

By the time she’s done, the bag is filled with weapons, and Jarek is even more pale.

“It was an accident, babe,” I murmur as I step in front of her, stroking my hands down her shirt and straightening it under her jacket.

“I warned them,” she hisses.

“And he apologized.” I grip her chin and drag her gaze to mine. Her eyes are so cold, I swear I feel frostbite, but I don’t back down. This is a hunter’s gaze, not a lover’s, but the fact that her anger is on my behalf makes me want to kiss the shit out of her, so I do. When I pull back, the ice has melted slightly. “He also broke the fingers he brushed my hand with as an apology. Let it go. Accidents will happen. I trust them, Tate, because you do. Don’t punish him like this. Look at the man, he appears ready to gut himself on an altar for you.”

She glances at Jarek and sighs deeply.

“We need to work as one, not fight each other. Now go apologize for threatening him with the dagger . . . and the sword . . . and the flamethrower.”

“No.” She huffs.

“Now,” I order. “Or else I will never let you touch me again.” She gapes at me, and I point at Jarek. “Go.”

Muttering to herself, she marches his way. “I am sorry for throwing the knife at you. And for using my sword. And for threatening to obliterate you with a flamethrower.” Each word is pulled from deep inside her, and I have to bite my lips to hide my smile as she glances at me. I give her an encouraging thumbs up, and she looks back at him. “Fang tells me it was an accident, and I trust you. I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose. I just didn’t like the idea that she was hurt. I reacted badly. I’m sorry.”

“It’s me who’s sorry,” he murmurs, staring at her like she’s the entire fucking world. I get it, I do. Tate has that effect on people. I can’t imagine my life without her now. She’s helping fill the hole my brother left behind, and it’s never boring at her side. “It was a genuine accident, but I will do better.” He drops to his knees, a sword appearing across his raised hands. “If you wish, you can cut off my hands so I may never do it again.”

She grips the blade, inspecting it, and I start to worry, but she suddenly presses it to her chest and kneels before him. “Then you have the right to carve out my heart for doubting you. You have stood by me with nothing but loyalty and a helping hand. I never should have doubted you or your intentions. I truly am sorry, Jarek.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and I grip Tem at my side and turn him around to give them privacy. I do peek back, though, to see their hands in each other’s hair, their foreheads pressed together before they kiss softly.

“Eight out of ten, use more tongue!” Ronan calls, and the sword flies right through where he was. “Angel!” he yells. “You’ll pay for that later.”

She snorts, and when we turn around, she’s holding Jarek’s hand and he’s smiling widely. “Alright, enough playing around. Are we ready?”

“We are now.” Shamus steps back into the room in full hunting gear, something I’ve never seen him in.

Her eyes widen, and she’s speechless for once. “What? You cannot go with us,” she murmurs. “You’re needed here?—”

“We will be gone and back before they know it. Besides, this man is dangerous?—”

“And I can look after myself?—”

“I know you can,” he assures her. “But I need to sharpen my skills. Not all of us are as good of a warrior as you, angel. Some of us have been sitting behind desks as you so helpfully reminded me. I’d be honoured if you would let me join your hunt.”

She stares at him for a moment before groaning. “I’m in charge.”

“Just how I like it.” He winks, and I groan in disgust.

“Fine. Zeev,” she calls, and a portal appears. “Remember, he’s very dangerous,” she warns us, “and his hatred for monsters is all that drives him. He will kill you if he has a chance. Don’t give him one.” She steps through the portal.

I sigh wistfully. “She’s so fucking cool.”

“Cool? Is she sick? Should we bring her back and warm her up?” Tem asks nervously.

“Oh, my little bloodthirsty friend, I have much to teach you.” I sigh. “Come on, dummy, let’s go hunting.”

I follow my girl through the portal.