“Jada,” Killian rumbles.
Killian, not Pax, because if Pax speaks up, he has to push Jada down a few pegs so the other Sabers don’t cross lines. But Killian can respond in his usual way and not be seen as weak. I see the game these guys are playing.
“You’re more than welcome to walk with me, Jada,” Roarke says, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
“No, thank you, but I do want it back.”
“Lick my sack –” I snort hard, and I’m so glad I didn’t just have a mouthful of wine. My muttering has finally gotten some attention so I wave a hand, trying to shoo them away. “Lighten up.”
“I’ll pass,” Jada says, finally pulling the key from her pocket.
“Kiss my ass,” I mutter.
Seth leans forwards, putting his face right in front of mine. Well, almost – he’s still sitting beside me.
“Vexy, what’s so funny?”
“Let’s eat honey?” I say with a shrug.
He runs his tongue over his lips, like the mention of honey has him savoring a favorite snack. Something he’s craving, by the hungry look in his eyes. The path of his tongue leaves his lips shiny in the firelight. It’s almost completely dark, which dramatically changes the atmosphere. Changes the temperature with a cool chill, the lighting with heavy shadows, and the way I want to press my lips to Seth’s. Okay, maybe that’s nothing new, but it’s certainly on my mind.
Suddenly, he sits back, saying, “Oh, so tempting.”
With Seth out of my view, my gaze meets Rose’s. The woman winks at me, her face mostly neutral, then follows Roarke up the hill to their waiting horses and the endless night.
Out there is a prophecy that wants me dead and a prison worth of evil with their teeth sharpened and a willingness to die for Lithael’s whims.
But in here, a powerful Saber just bowed to me.
I scratch my head, checking that Rose’s actions were actually part of the last ten minutes of my life and not something I drunkenly imagined. Yep, Elite BloodSeed with eyes that can turn red and a tendency to paint the blood of her kills over her body just bowed to the Soot-servant sitting in the dirt. The notion sends a giddy little flutter through my chest, either that or the wine.
Seth leans down to talk softly in my ear.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“I am not giving you credit for anything,” I mumble.
Small conversations move around the remaining Sabers. More meat is cut from the thinning carcass to satisfy the members of Teegan’s triune, but I ignore them and watch over my shoulder as Roarke and the Sabers walk to the edge of the domain. The women mount up and ride into the trees.
An annoying sensation settles in my chest. Jealousy aside, Rose was the only ally I had here. Now I’ve got Teegan and Jada, and neither of them wants to bow to me.
Someone tells a joke – which apparently everyone finds funny, but I’m not even listening. Roarke saunters back to the group, picking up the crate of wine and passing bottles from person to person – starting with Seth and ending beside me. I hold my hand out, but he settles the crate out of arm’s reach and sits back in his spot behind my right shoulder.
I open my mouth to object, then close it in stunned silence, my hand raised to empty air and left hanging with no hint that he’s going to offer me a bottle.
Seth dangles a bottle in front of my nose, and I snatch it up with a triumphant little hiss of, “Yes.”
Bottle number five.
Silvari wine is not a good idea – it’s a downright bad idea. But it’s the kind of bad idea that right now feels very, very right.
Amber nestles a fresh log under the wire-grate, sending sparks shooting into the night sky then says, “I’ll prepare the horses.”
Leaving me with my Elorsins, Teegan, the Lightning girl Lara, and Jada.
A waning moon just peeks over the trees, vibrant even though it’s almost nonexistent. Killian sets about cutting pieces of meat and handing them out. He hands two to Roarke, and I hold my hand up, waving it a little impatiently.
“I’ll hold it until it’s cool enough for your delicate fingers,” Roarke says.
“And I’ll punch you somewhere other than your foot if you eat my meat,” I mutter back.
The chatter is small and companionable, and when Lara returns, she picks up two crusty loaves off the rack, not caring that they’re still hot and have been cooked by the coals. One she sets aside on a log to cool, possibly to take with them, but chunks of the other are passed in the other direction. I snatch one up before Roarke can claim it.
“Mmm, bread,” I drone, devouring the smallest mouthful ever because it’s freaking hot, and washing it down with the sweet fruity wine.
Sip, nibble, sip, nibble.
Screw this – I shove the last of my bread into my mouth. Too much bread.
Too much to chew, too much to swallow.
I struggle, then cough the mouthful back up. Roarke pats me between the shoulders.
“Should have taken the bread off you. Poor thing can’t even chew her food without help,” he teases.
I elbow him in the shin, managing to swallow the bread and washing it down with the last of my wine. Damn – that bottle went quick.
Killian is looking at me through the dancing flames.
I watch him sip his wine, the small bottle not much bigger than his hand, and I wonder if I could flick something into it from over here?
He smiles, a small curl to his lips with only half his cheek raised, but damn, I love his smile.
Something black and inky slips up from his hood. It slides over his shoulders, becoming more substantial as it moves into his hair then settles like it’s holding onto his ear. Two big eyes
