Page 13 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THEA

S howers are amazing.

Having a sexy blood fae watch you in one? Even more amazing.

I towel off then throw back on the oversized T-shirt Krystian loaned me and grab my dagger off the counter. I don’t have any undergarments—why would I need them in a world where I never got dirtied or peed or pooped or had my period?—then return to the room.

Rafael is lying on his bed, flicking through the channels on the television. I don’t see Everett anywhere, and relief floods me. It’s not that I’m against Everett knowing what I got up to with Rafe, but…I have a feeling he would judge me.

And I’m fragile, dammit.

I bite my lip as I wait for Rafael to say something, anything. Hell, I would even take a head nod of acknowledgment or a fist bump.

Instead, he keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the TV, though I know he’s not actually watching anything. He’s flipping through the channels way too fast.

I shuffle from foot to foot as I place my dagger on the bedside table, then I clear my throat.

“So…” I begin awkwardly, wringing my hands together. “Are we going to talk about what just happened? You know the…”

I pantomime thrusting my fingers upwards because I can’t say the words out loud. I’m real classy like that.

Rafe’s fingers flex around the remote control, but he still doesn’t respond.

“The silent treatment.” I purse my lips. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

Rafael finally swivels his head to stare directly at me, and the intensity in his eyes nearly takes my breath away. A boulder wedges itself in my throat.

“What do you want me to say, little bird?” His voice is low and raspy, scraping across my skin in a way that’s almost painful.

It sounds as if he doesn’t speak often, which makes me hold on to each word he says like the gift I believe it is.

“That I’m hard as fuck thinking about those sexy moans you made?

That I can’t help but imagine how tight your pussy would be as I fuck you?

That when I close my eyes, all I can see is your perfect body and tight nipples and wet cunt? ”

A pulsing ache erupts in my center.

Did I whimper? I think I whimpered.

Fuck.

“You’re really bad at giving the silent treatment,” I whisper, moving towards the makeshift bed on the floor.

He smirks and returns his attention to the television. “Go to sleep.”

It’s an order.

“Sir, yes, sir.” I offer him a mocking salute, then I plop on the floor.

Rafe’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep.” I give him a “duh” look and then fluff the pillow behind me.

“You sleep on the bed.” Anger flavors his words.

“Everett is already cranky. Can you imagine how evil he’ll be if he doesn’t get his beauty rest?” I snort and then shake my head. “Not happening. Not on my watch. I’ll be fine here. Besides, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

I fall onto my back and rest my hands on my chest. The floor is uncomfortable but not too horrible with the blankets beneath me to soften it.

Silence stretches between the two of us, broken only by the quiet television.

I break it first.

“I really don’t want to fade away again.” It’s a whispered confession, tugged from deep in my chest. A blistering burn crawls up my throat and crowds my eyes. “Now that I know what it’s like to be alive…I can’t go back to the way things were. I can’t .”

“That won’t happen,” Rafe vows solemnly.

“You can’t promise me that.” I turn on the makeshift bed until I’m lying on my side, my hands under my cheek. “No one can.”

“I will.” With my back to him, I can’t see his expression, but I can feel his gaze on my flesh, white-hot and burning, eliciting shocks of skittish sensation.

The intensity of his promise brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

I’ve been alive for…well, it feels like forever.

No one has ever promised to take care of me before.

Do I expect Rafe to uphold his promise? Not at all. He barely knows me.

But it’s nice to know he cares enough—at least right now—to make a vow in the first place.

“You guys never gave me popcorn,” I murmur drowsily.

Rafe chuckles darkly. “Later, my little bird.”

And then I do something I’ve never done before.

I sleep.

I wake to strong arms around me, holding me against a broad chest. The scent of cedar tickles my senses.

Everett.

I grumble something inarticulate—probably a “what are you doing?”—and Everett shushes me.

“Go back to sleep.”

A second later, I’m dropped onto a warm, soft bed, and blankets are draped over my shoulders.

Then I drift away again.

I don’t know what wakes me first—the feeling of eyes on my skin that tells me I’m being watched, or the heavy breathing of the men in the room.

Blinking wearily, I struggle to orient myself.

“W-what?” I sit upright in bed, rubbing at my eyes with the palms of my hands.

My first thought is—this isn’t a dream.

I’m still in a motel with Rafael and Everett, though at some point, I’ve been moved from the floor to the bed. Rafael sleeps soundly on the bed opposite me, while Everett is sprawled on the floor, tiny snores emitting from him.

My second thought? Someone is in the room with us.

Tension floods my body instantly, and chills careen down my spine.

Rafe and Everett continue to sleep, completely oblivious to the intruder.

Or…

Or they’ve been spelled.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Ice trickles into my veins, and I reach for my dagger I placed on the bedside table, gripping it tightly.

The silhouette in the doorway steps forward, and I let out a breath of relief when I see it’s Krystian.

“Holy fuck. You scared the shit out of me.” I place a hand against my chest as he continues to study me, unaware of the contortions my heart is putting my head through. “Why are you just standing there? And what’s up with Rafe and Everett?”

They seem like the type that would jump out of bed, alert, at the slightest provocation.

“I need to talk to you,” Krystian says in a low voice. “It’s urgent.”

My pulse spikes like a spooked rabbit as I throw back the covers and hurry towards him on bare feet. “What’s going on? Are we under attack?”

Moonlight flickers across his face like sentient white vines.

My feet still.

This is Krystian…but it’s not.

This close, I can see that his eyes are black as pitch. Inky veins extend from his eyes and branch across his face, pulsating beneath his pale skin. Even his hair seems to have changed. It’s still white, but instead of golden undertones, there appears to be blue streaks layered in the strands.

Krystian’s smile widens, unveiling perfectly white teeth. “I wondered what Krystian was keeping from me. I didn’t expect it to be a beautiful woman. Hello, dear. You can call me Krys.”