Page 81 of Liar Witch

I topple over the edge with a shout.

Chapter Twenty

Nilsa

When I come back to my senses, Kier is gone. Almost as if he was never there in the first place. Rysen’s fangs have left my neck, and he laps lazily at the tiny wounds as we snuggle on the bed.

My hand slips lower, toward the waistband of his trousers, intent on returning the favour. But Rysen stops me.

“You need to eat first. I took too much.” He shifts, pulling me closer. “Fortunately, you seem to have recruited a chef to your harem.”

“Klaus?”

His wry grin is soft and satisfied. “Well, there’s no way the twins have learned to make something smell so good in the last few hours.”

Oh, right, vampire senses.

I roll out of bed with a final kiss to his lips, heading straight for my wardrobe.

“Off to investigate?”

I hum an affirmation as I pull on my clothes and head for the door.

“I didn’t mean to just abandon him as soon as the challenge was over…” I mutter. “Now I feel like a shitty mate.”

Rysen’s arms come around me before I can say anything else.

“You’re not a shitty mate. You’re one witch trying to wrangle six males. It’s going to take time for you to come to a place where you think you’re spending time with us equally. There are bound to be moments where one of us needs you more than the others, and that’s okay.”

I twirl in his arms and press a sweet kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Thank you.”

He drops his gaze, making me smile. “If any of them complain, I’ll knock the sense back into them,” he mutters. “Now, let’s get some food into you.”

I don’t know what I’m expecting when I enter the galley, but finding Cas and Klaus with their hands locked, arm wrestling over the table laden with plates of steaming food, isn’t it. Val leans against the counter nearby, providing a running sarcastic commentary for Nos, who is beside him. Under any other circumstances, it would be quite funny to listen to.

None of them seem to have considered what they’ll do when one of them wins and their locked hands end up smashing into someone’s meal.

“That’s enough.” Ry’s voice booms through the space, wiping the smug smiles off their faces.

Kier’s waiting in the corner, almost invisible in the shadows. At our arrival, he moves into the light and pulls out a chair at the head of the table, waiting patiently.

The tiny brush of frost against the underside of my breast makes a smile pull at the edge of my lips. I accept the offered seat and let him push me in before he moves to his own chair. Nos has claimed the seat on my right, but the space on my other side is empty.

Until a certain tattooed male takes it, sliding a plate of steaming fish in front of me as he does so.

My eyes widen as I take in the new markings around his wrist.

“You changed your tattoos?” I blurt, eyes darting up to meet the cerulean blue ones which have haunted my dreams for months.

Klaus’s cheeks turn an adorable rosy pink. The colour spreads down from his face to the corded lines of his neck.

When I saw him last, he still had the band of abstract tridents encircling his throat, ankles and wrists. His sleeve is still there—made of geometric patterns, woven in and out around those odd symbols—but the rest are gone.

In their place is a tiny stingray, the tail looping around his throat to meet up with the head. There are smaller versions on his wrists, and I’m willing to bet more on his ankles. The more I look at them, the more they remind me of shackles.

“The marksinger didn’t know what your clan symbol was,” he murmurs. “I thought a stingray was more fitting than the waves of the clanless.”