“Could be worse.” Flashing pearly whites, Mac grinned, half devil, all eager. “At least, there’ll be lots of beer to drink.”
“Green ale,” Wick said, joining in on the fun.
“Total wankers… the pair of you.”
Mac laughed.
Wick shook his head, even as appreciation for his fellow warriors sank deep. Despite their newness to the pack, Mac and Forge fit like marrow inside bone. They belonged. Were family in every way that counted. Which meant he should be able to ask them anything. He frowned. Right? After a moment spent thinking it over, the answer came to him. No question. Both males were solid, safe, smart as hell too, so… yeah. Asking for their advice seemed like the thing to do.
But for one small problem.
He’d never asked anyone for help before. Wasn’t sure how to go about it either. Should he jump right in? Was there a protocol he needed to follow? A code of etiquette of some kind? Shit, he didn’t know, so…
Fuck it. He might as well wade in. “Hey, Forge?”
“Aye, lad?”
“I hear you’re good with a hammer.”
An understatement. A huge one. Particularly since Wick had seen his work. A master carpenter, Forge owned serious tools and a shitload of skill. Ones he put to good use every afternoon, carving out a spot for his collection of fine wines and aged whiskies. The passion fueled his project, keeping the male happy as he built a wine cellar in one corner of the underground lair. Barely begun, the space reeked of style and sophistication, with exotic woods taken from foreign lands, and a sense of tradition brought over from the old country.
From a Highland heritage and a history that endured.
Rapt interest in his eyes, Forge perked up. “What are you building?”
“A gift for Jamison.”
Chasing an itch, Mac rubbed his shoulder against the seat back. “Lay it out.”
Simple as that, the conversation began. Amazing, really. Something as basic as a question could give birth to camaraderie. The kind he’d only ever experienced with Venom. But as Wick shared his idea, his brothers accepted him without question: helping him shape his vision, hashing out the details, and making a list of materials. Extraordinary. Wicked fun too, and as he listened to Forge and Mac argue about the best wood screws to use, his excitement lit off like a rocket. Watch out world. He was headed into the great unknown, about to attempt something he never had before with his friends’ help. The fine art of pleasing a female. And oh baby, he couldn’t wait to get started. Couldn’t wait to see Jamison’s face when he unveiled his gift and surprised the hell out of her.
Perched on a stool at the kitchen island, J.?J. rapped the end of her pencil against the notepad and frowned at the cake in front of her. The eraser bounced against paper, punishing a curlicue treble clef and the adjoining lines containing a flurry of music notes. Two birds with one stone. Musical composition while baking… a happy accident. One she’d discovered with Daimler’s help. A pastime she would be enjoying, but for one simple thing.
Her design wasn’t working.
Oh, not the song. The melody was taking shape just right, the up-tempo chorus flowing into each verse like a river into the sea. On cue. Perfect rhythm keeping time. No problems on the musical front at all. It was the dragon cake she worried about. The legs were too fat, the neck too skinny, and the head? Gosh darn it all. The thing looked more like a triangle than the smooth, sculpted contours she wanted. Chewing on her lip, she added another string of notes to the music staff, then dropped the pencil to pick up the baker’s knife. She drummed its tip against the marble countertop. The rat-ta-ta-tat barely registered. She was too busy figuring out where she’d gone wrong.
Not in the actual baking. The white cake looked okay. So no, it couldn’t be that. Tilting her head one way and then the other, she pursed her lips, hoping a different angle would help, but…
No such luck. The head still looked awful.
She scowled at it. Dumb thing. Who knew baking a fancy cake could be so difficult? Not her. Not after decorating the cupcakes had gone so well. Nudging the base, she pushed the notepad aside and turned her crappy-looking dragon full circle, studying it from each side, then glanced at the knife in her hand. Maybe if she scalped it a little more. Trimmed down the body. Reinforced the neck. Added the horns, scales, and spikes with colorful marzipan. J.?J. grimaced. Maybe she should just start over. Much as she hated to admit it, that seemed like the best option.
“Frick’n frack,” her sister grumbled. Seated across from her, Tania chewed on the end of her own pencil. A sketch pad bobbing in her other hand, she cursed under her breath. “It still doesn’t look right.”
“Join the club.”
Startled from her own creative dilemma, Tania’s head came up. “What?”
J.?J. poked the dragon head with the tip of her knife. “Well, just look at it. Catastrophe central. It looks like something out of a bad horror flick.”
Tania snorted in laughter. “The neck’s too skinny.”
“Thanks for the news flash,” she muttered, tossing her sister a perturbed look. Tania grinned. J.?J. rolled her eyes. Ah, snap… she might as well admit it. She’d bitten off more than she could chew. And with Daimler out of the lair—off on some secret mission for Wick—she didn’t have a chance in hell of heading the baking disaster off at the pass. “What’s your problem?”
“The waterfall.”
J.?J. raised a brow.
With a sigh, her sister flipped the sketch pad in her direction. J.?J. blinked. Wow. Get a load of that. The three dimensional drawing practically leapt off the page, depicting a moonlit lagoon surrounded by lush forest and smooth stone. Staring at the picture, Tania shook her head. “I want the water to flow down the rock face and into the pool, but… I don’t know… the perspective’s off or something. I can’t figure out why it’s not working.”
“You got me.” Eyes narrowed, J.?J. studied the design. “I don’t know the first thing about—”
A warm tingle swept over the nape of her neck.
She drew in a soft breath as the soft sensation buzzed down her spine. Well, well, well, it was about time. Wick was headed her way, and after pulling a disappearing act all afternoon? She was ready to see him. Ready to ask him again too: poke, prod, beg, borrow, and plead for a clue. He was up to something. She felt it in her bones. Saw it in the knowing gleam in his eyes. Smelled it on him too. But the cherry on top… the proof in her pudding? He’d been AWOL from lunch until dinner for the last three days.
Along with the other Nightfury warriors.
Suspicious much? Uh-huh. Beyond mysterious, a puzzle worth solving.
Anticipation running hot, J.?J. slid off the stool. As her bare feet touched warm tile, she glanced at her sister. “See yah.”
“Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah,” Tania said, mischief in her eyes. “Go get him, tiger.”
Laughing, J.?J. rounded the end of the island. All her senses locked on Wick, she turned into the corridor and… oh man. There he was, halfway down the hallway, looking good enough to eat as his long legs carried him forward. Getting a move on, she walked toward him, heart pounding, body humming, her desire for him rising like a heat wave. Golden eyes shimmering, a slow grin spread across his face. Her stomach flip-flopped. A buzz of happiness followed. God, she loved it when he looked at her that way: with a hunger born of passion and need, and so much love it took her breath away.
“Hey,” she said, getting up close and personal as she stepped into him. Hard muscle rippled as he wrapped his arms around her. Hmm, he always smelled so darn good, like wood smoke and male spice. Breathing him in, she pressed a kiss to his T-shirt-clad chest and, tipping her chin, offered him her mouth. He didn’t hesitate. Dipping his head, he brushed his lips against hers. She smiled against his mouth, running her hands down his back, loving the feel of him, then got back on track. Curiosity demanded an answer, and she wanted to know. “So, you gonna tell me now?”
He shook his head. “How about I show you instead?”
Oh, yes, please. Especially if the
