My little lamb.
15
Lorcan
“I won't soothe your pain
I won't ease your strain
You'll be waiting in vain
I got nothing for you to gain.”
-Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation
The Thursday morning light streamed across my face as I mumbled a curse into the pillow, turning over. I could feel the magic of my guardians around me as the gold bands on my skin sparked, my eyes running up Rhett's stunningly-colored chest. My gaze moved towards his wrist, and I found myself smiling. I was always forgetting about the visible proof of our connection.
My lips pressed to one of his tattoos as he rumbled, making me smile. I nearly groaned when his hand gravitated towards the gold band that circled my thigh, symbolizing our connection.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, looking around briefly as my silky nightgown rubbed against my skin. My smile grew as I noticed that Dean was on my other side with Cash next to him, snoring against his pillow. On Rhett's side was Adriel and then Desmond. My eyes searched the room and I heard the shower, realizing Draven was in there.
Oh. That was tempting.
My stomach rumbled as I slipped from bed. Last night I hadn't eaten much and instead had hung out with my boys and Maggie. I shook my head thinking about Maggie and the Nadar brothers. The story almost seemed unbelievable, but Dean would have no reason to lie, obviously.
I stood, lifting my hands above my head as I let out a small yawn, grabbing a robe as I walked down the stairs. I inhaled, following the scent of coffee like a zombie, not realizing that there was literally only one person who could be making it.
"Zander?" I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as he looked up from where he sat at the table. My eyes were squinted slightly as the sunlight tried to burn them.
"Morning," he grunted, his eyes running over me before muttering a curse.
Grabbing a mug, I poured a cup and walked over to the table, sitting across from him and taking a sip. We were quiet for a moment as I examined him, trying to not look into the fact that I found him attractive. His dark, richly colored hair, laid loose and down. I think I had a thing for guys with long hair. The purple in it stood out like his golden eyes as he caught me unabashedly staring at him.
Holy crap, did he have a ring of purple on the outside edge of the gold? Shit. That is beautiful… and I was going to blame it on never having been around a siren before.
My words were quiet after a sip of coffee, "I am going to work with my brother on our music today, if you want to come with me. I have an idea, and actually, you may be the perfect person to ask if it would work."
"What's that?" he asked, his golden eyes stuck on my face.
"So," I took a sip before thinking through my words, "when my brother and I play our music and sing, we can, as you probably can as well, get people to do a lot of shit and act different ways—"
"It's like that with any art form," he mentioned softly.
"What?" I asked curiously.
"Have you tried other art forms?" he mused.
"No," I shook my head. His smile was lighter as he reached over and grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper.
"Because of the nature of our magic, we have control over most things creative... for example, if I draw a pen," he said while sketching, "and infuse my magic into it like your music, it will come to life. Singing is obviously consistent in our results—"
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed in shock as a pen rolled off the paper and landed next to him, solid and whole.
"Very useful," he nodded, and then a small smile grew on his lips before he leaned forward. I froze as he grabbed a piece of my hair, his magic running over me as a small amused sound came from my lips. He had literally just colored an entire strand of my hair lavender.
“Every siren has a particular art form they excel in. You clearly have the violin, and your brother has piano,” he mused as I eagerly drank in his words, a bit fascinated by all this.
“What about you?” I arched a brow.
“Drawing.” He flashed a smile. “Well, more specifically, painting. It was why…”
“Why what?” I asked hesitantly as a dark look came over his face.
“It was the reason for the neon tears. The pigment was the excess magic I’d had on you shedding completely,” he mumbled while taking a sip of coffee.
I breathed out, "Right.”
“You can continue on about your plan if you want,” he said awkwardly, his ears heated. Honestly, I knew his power said that he was crazy ancient, but he almost came off as a bit shy and vulnerable when we weren’t around everyone else. Especially when he wasn’t being defensive.
“I was hoping I could put together a song to hurt Mr. Black. And maybe shatter the hold he has on that damn place."
His face turned white as he blinked at me. "You've met Mr. Black?"
"Yeah, I was down there only last week, got trapped for two days," I explained, trying to not let a tidal wave of emotions roll over me. That place would be burned into my subconscious for-fucking-ever.
"I see," he said softly, his eyes darting away. "I didn't realize that had occurred."
"How long have you been watching me?" I asked curiously.
"Since you came here," he admitted. "I just assumed you were avoiding the persistent media."
"I wish," I smirked. "Not so lucky."
He seemed to shake himself. “Your plan would work. You could create a piece of work specifically for him, or just learn how to play well enough to infuse your negative powers into the song and hurt him."
"Do you know how?" I wondered softly.
"I can figure it out," he nodded, and I took a sip of my drink, running my fingers through my hair. I almost felt oddly nervous around him. This wasn’t like me at all. I was a lot of things, but this awkwardness wasn’t one of them.
A sound had me looking over as, fucking hell... Desmond was shirtless with just pajama pants on. His hair was messy as he poured a cup of coffee, my mouth dropping slightly. How was he so hot? He smirked, approaching me and pressing a kiss to my lips before sitting down, his arm behind me while he drank his own coffee.
"You seem relaxed," I teased.
"Trying to be, while I can," he sighed. "I may have forgotten that we have something to do later today."
"What?"
"We may have a Red Masques team coming over. They need some intel."
My brow furrowed. "What the hell is a Red Masques team?"
"Fucking psychos is what they are," Zander growled.
I looked at Desmond, who didn’t seem surprised by the description. He let out a sigh, stating, "Yeah, I can't disagree with that. They are a special forces unit from the Fae realm. Mages in general tend to be a bit crazy, but this team has a pretty specific reputation."
"What type of crazy are we talking about?" I mused. "I ripped the spine out of someone only last week."
"In self-defense," Desmond qualified. "And I killed the principal out of absolute rage."
"That was so sweet," I smiled up at him.