“It’s Arabella’s room,” Cy explained evenly, his eyes flicking to my surprised gaze before moving back to my father. I honestly hadn’t expected him to say anything. The others, sure, but Cy usually didn’t engage in their bullshit.
My dad offered me a tired look as he walked from the room, not bothering to argue with the nightmare. I smiled at Cy before looking at Amun, deciding to say something that was fairly risky.
“He can have my extra room,” I said, ignoring the growl that came from Blackwell’s throat. I pinned him with a look momentarily and continued looking around at all of them. “Any time I stay over, I end up crashing in one of your beds. So as long as you’re okay with that—”
His low, frustrated growl cut off, looking suddenly far more interested in what I was saying and not upset in the least. See? Now how was I supposed to take that? Did Blackwell want me in his bed? Maybe I needed to just sneak in there and see what happened.
“Solid plan to me.” Zain flashed a charming smile before standing. “Come on, Amun, let’s show you your new room.”
Friendly bastard. Always.
Amun looked at me, his eyes flashing darkly with something that was pretty damn sexy, and I knew what he wanted to say before the words left his mouth. I decided to make it easy on him. “I’m following you guys up. Nothing else to do today as it is.”
He nodded sharply and turned toward the door as Zain walked out, my eyes darting to the massive dark marking that was visible on my apocalyptic terror’s shoulders and the back of his neck. I knew it expanded across his entire back, and there had been a few times when he had sat in front of me shirtless and allowed me to trace it. Honestly, I was always a fan of him walking around shirtless. You would absolutely never hear a complaint from me.
Damian flashed me a smile and stood as well. “Just remember, cherry blossom, he gets one chance. If he fucks up, he’s going to pay for that hand he had on your throat earlier.”
Christ on a cracker, he just had to do it. He couldn’t help himself.
“What?” Saint hissed as I offered Damian a narrow-eyed look. He shrugged, looking thrilled at upsetting Saint, before Blackwell offered me a heated look and followed after his friend. I grumbled under my breath, finishing up my coffee as I ignored Saint staring at me, waiting for some type of explanation.
“I don’t like him,” Razar admitted after a moment, his voice low and almost pained.
Crap.
I stood, swaying slightly in my heels as I shook out my foot that had gone numb, Cy appearing behind me to steady me. I looked up, offering him a small smile, and he brushed his lips against the top of my head before striding from the room, seemingly on a mission. Where to, I had no idea.
“Give him a chance,” I bargained as Razar’s gaze moved over my shoulder to where Saint was now standing in my space, inspecting my neck without permission.
Not that he would have asked in the first place.
“Did he really grab your throat?” Saint growled, looking at Razar.
I offered both men an exhausted look. What if I told them I hadn’t minded? What if I told them I liked when sexy nightmares grabbed my throat? Would that somehow shock them enough to stop the blatant murderous intent I could see growing in Saint’s eyes? Probably not.
Razar, not one to usually start trouble, stood as well so that I was between them. His voice was a low rumble. “He thought she was food at first, when he found out she was a human.”
“Damn it, Razar,” I groaned.
Saint was gone then, striding towards the door. I growled as Razar chuckled, my steps taking me towards the reaper as I did the one thing I knew would stop him. I kicked off my heels and launched myself onto his back, my small frame clinging to him like a koala. Considering how large he was—around Blackwell’s height—it was an impressive feat, and I had to wrap my legs around him for fear of sliding off his back.
The nightmare jolted in surprise as I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck. Razar said something from behind us, probably picking up my heels. I was tempted to turn around because I could feel his eyes on my body and possibly my butt, but instead I kept my focus on the man I was wrapped around, trying to figure out a solid way to convince him to not kill Amun.
“I can still slaughter him with you on my back. Quite successfully, for the record,” Saint said, looking somewhat more amused than angry now. He flashed a smile, almost to himself. “In fact, you may even enjoy that. Didn’t you mention wanting to go on missions? I can show you what it’s like, a personal demonstration on how to kill that motherfucker.”
I shook my head, resting my chin on his shoulder as he gripped my thighs and left the room. My father shouted something and Razar responded, the three of us leaving him to his work.
“You won’t kill him,” I said with surety. “I would be upset if you did that.”
A small frown dipped his brow, as if he hadn’t considered that.
“He won’t.” Razar sighed as if disappointed, the three of us making our way towards the set of elevators that would take us to the dorms. The others were ahead of us but within hearing distance. They could probably even hear our murderous conversation.
“I have justification.” Saint’s jaw tightened.
“Please don’t kill him, for me?” I pressed my lips to his shoulder as he muttered something under his breath but tightened his hold on my legs, his thumbs rubbing against my leg in a soothing pattern. His stride slowed slightly, and while I didn’t get confirmation, I knew he wouldn’t kill Amun right now.
In the future? Well, I could never predict Saint’s actions in the moment, let alone in the future.
Plus, we had bigger things to worry about. I was praying my gut feeling about tonight was just my paranoid sense of concern for my guys. Anything else was unacceptable.
5
Cy
The elevator was absolutely far too small for all of us, yet I knew no one was willing to wait for another one because that would mean not being with Arabella in a closed space. I leaned against the metal wall of the box we were in, my eyes darting down her small form as she explained to Amun the setup of ISS.
I tilted my head, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the tension riding her body. I knew it was about the mission tonight—she always felt an absurd amount of anxiety for us whenever we went on missions. Something that was pretty ironic, considering most of us spent the entire mission half distracted by her delicate voice over the radio.
It would take a lot to get any of us to not return to Arabella.
I had spent my entire life wandering from place to place, the world changing drastically in the past two hundred and forty-three years, and not always in the best of ways. So the fact that I had yet to leave the institute after over two years was a pure testament, in my mind, to Arabella’s draw. It was painful to leave for missions, so the idea of never seeing her again seemed almost impossible to imagine. I spent most of my nights wishing it was morning so that I could go to work and watch her flit around the office without a care in the world.
It was mesmerizing, the way she moved around the space, and even more so that she seemed completely oblivious to the danger she was in most of the time. Or maybe not oblivious, but just blissfully unaware? Unafraid of being the most delicate and vulnerable prey in the room?