Page 11 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEA

“ W hy the fuck are you crying?” Krystian sounds horrified.

“I just…” I sniffle, the tears coming faster and faster. “I just never had anyone care about me before. You four are the best friends a girl could ever have.”

Overcome by the enormity of my emotions, I reach for Krystian—who’s closest—and hug him tightly.

He awkwardly begins to pat my back. “There. There.”

“People are looking,” Everett hisses, sounding slightly frantic.

When I move to pull away from Krystian, he simply tightens his grip on me, his arms like iron bands.

“Shhh. I got you, love. I got you.” He rocks me slightly as my tears stain his shirt.

Once I’m certain I’m no longer a blubbering, inarticulate mess, I pat his shoulder. “I’m okay now, Krystian. You can let me go now.”

At first, I think he’s going to refuse, but after a few seconds, he releases me with a reluctant sigh.

I settle back in the booth, wiping at the tears beneath my eyes with the pads of my fingers.

“Sorry, guys.” I chuckle mirthlessly. “I’m not used to this.”

“Having friends?” Zaid inquires softly.

“Having hormones.”

A throat clears at the foot of the table, directly behind Zaid, and I lift my head to see Darla standing there. In her hands is a piece of chocolate cake.

“For you,” she says shyly, sliding it my way. Concern etches lines into her forehead. “Are you okay, hon?”

“She’s fine,” Everett barks.

One of his hands forms a fist on the table.

“She’s okay,” Zaid reassures her. “She’s just…” His lips twist. “Hormonal.”

That seems to be enough explanation, because Darla hurries away without any follow-up questions.

“I’m really, really stuffed,” I murmur, digging my fork into the fluffy cake layered in icing.

“Then why are you eating the cake?” Krystian asks, amused.

“Because I like food.”

I close my lips around the fork, and holy fuck. Lust streaks through me, and heat floods my body in an addictive, all-consuming rush. My eyelids begin to flutter as a moan catches in my throat.

“Oh god.” Pleasure consumes me—a tide that rises and ebbs, gathering strength until it devours the shoreline. “This is fucking delicious.”

I moan again as I take another bite. I don’t want a single piece to go to waste. If that means licking each prong of the fork, then so be it.

I continue to devour the cake—unable to stop the moans that escape me—as the guys watch me silently, their eyes heated. At first, I think they’re jealous that I got a piece of cake and they didn’t, but then I realize it’s not the dessert they desire.

It’s me.

Need throbs lower in my belly as I take in all four of their expressions. The space between us feels as precarious as kindling and just as ready to burn. I’m a flame personified, blistering hot.

“Was that good, love?” Krystian asks.

His voice is husky, sounding like it’s been scraped over coals.

All I can manage is a whimpered, “Hmmm.”

Rafael leans across the table, his hand extended, and I hold my breath.

His finger catches on the edge of my lip, gliding across it like roughened silk, before he pulls away.

Chocolate balances on the tip of his finger, and as I watch, transfixed, he brings it to his own mouth.

His tongue flicks out to catch every last drop of chocolate.

“Delicious,” he agrees raspily.

My ribs squeeze my heart like a vise.

Everett clears his throat, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. “We should get back to the hotel.”

“Motel,” I correct automatically.

He ignores me. “It’s almost dark.”

That one sentence garners a reaction from every man at the table—but none more than Krystian. He stiffens, the lust draining from his eyes until it’s replaced by something akin to terror.

“How much time do we have?”

“Relax,” Everett says. “We still have an hour.”

“What’s going on?” I flick my gaze between the four of them. “Are you guys afraid of the dark or something?”

“Or something,” Krystian mumbles, appearing uncharacteristically subdued.

Discordant notes scream like alarm bells in my head.

“And are you going to tell me…?” I stare at him pointedly, but he, too, ignores me.

Instead of answering, he flags down the waitress and asks for a bill.

When she returns a few minutes later, she hands it to me, and I notice a number scrawled at the top.

Before I can take a closer look, Rafael rips it from my hands and passes it to Everett, who already has a credit card out. When he catches my look, he rolls his eyes.

“Ares pays well,” he explains.

As soon as the waitress returns with a slip for him to sign, we head out of the diner. The motel looms before us, tall and foreboding.

“Come on. We need to go faster,” Krystian urges, flicking his gaze towards the descending sun.

“You can go on without us,” Zaid tells Krystian. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Krystian hesitates, his gaze flicking towards me, before he shakes his head, his jaw setting determinedly.

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s fine.” He once again glances at the darkening sky.

“What the hell is going on? What will happen when it turns dark?” I ask, exasperated.

“Nothing,” Krystian says quickly.

Too quickly.

“None of your damn business,” Everett grumbles.

Zaid, who’s walking beside me, smiles reassuringly. “We’ll explain later.”

Each step he takes has his hand brushing against my own. I wonder what it would be like to just…grab it. Hold it. I’ve never held anyone’s hand before.

So I do.

The calluses on his palm create a unique type of friction that makes my stomach flutter.

Zaid glances at our interlocked fingers, surprise alighting in his eyes. When I smile at him, swinging our hands between us, he returns it, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

We arrive at the motel, and I make a beeline towards Krystian and Zaid’s room. Zaid drags me back, appearing apologetic.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’ll need to stay with Everett and Rafael tonight.”

“What? Why?” No offense to Everett and Rafael, but I trust Krystian and Zaid significantly more.

And they’re actually nice to me.

Not that Rafael isn’t nice, per se, but he’s a little…scary. Adorably scary, but scary all the same.

Krystian is already slipping into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“It’s not a big deal.” Zaid gives my hand a squeeze and then releases it.

I instantly miss his touch, the prickling heat that invades my body.

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.” He waves and slips into the bedroom after Krystian, making sure not to allow even a sliver of light to appear.

What the fuck?

“That was weird, right?” I say to Everett and Rafael. “Really weird.”

“I can get you your own room,” Everett says in lieu of an explanation.

He turns towards the lobby—a separate building on the opposite side of the parking lot—but Rafael pulls him back.

“She stays with us,” the blood fae says coldly.

Everett’s jaw clenches. “What?”

“She stays with us.” Rafael places a hand on my shoulder and guides me into the room—a mirror image of Krystian and Zaid’s.

Rafael gestures for me to take the bed farthest away from the door, then he claims the one next to it.

Everett remains standing, his arms folded over his chest and his customary scowl firmly in place.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?” he demands, volleying his gaze between the two of us.

Before I can offer him my bed—I’m not sure I’ll actually be capable of sleeping—Everett stomps to a closet.

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“But…” I begin, gesticulating wildly towards the bed. “You can sleep here, and I can take the floor?—”

“I’ll take the damn floor!” Everett snaps, throwing pillows and extra blankets down. “Now, go take a shower or whatever the fuck you want to do before bed. Lights will be out in an hour because we need to leave early tomorrow.”

He focuses on the task at hand, and I return my attention to Rafael with wide eyes.

“He’s so bossy,” I whisper.

“I heard that,” Everett says.

Rafael chuckles, the sound dark and foreboding.

But I suppose I can use the time now to check off another thing on my bucket list.

A hot, steaming shower.