What is it with these Elorsins and not caring if it’s cold and raining? Me getting to Pax was one thing, but now they should all come inside where it’s nice and warm and dry before continuing whatever they were talking about.
He reaches the bottom of the stairs, stalking toward Killian and Seth, who are returning loaded up with bags and saddles. I hesitate on the line where the rain is flooding down off the veranda roof. One more step and I get wet.
Pax kicks into a jog, and I open my mouth to object when a force whacks into my back.
I’m propelled off the veranda. The world rushes past, and I curl into a ball. Bracing for impact. The ground hits hard, knocking the wind from my lungs and slipping mud into new places.
“Shouldn’t have hesitated,” I groan.
I also need to learn to count; I would have sworn I had more room.
For a second my wall pushes me along, dragging me behind Pax.
“Pax,” Seth shouts, and the wall stops.
I can’t really see them, mostly because I’m too busy being a ball, but four sets of feet rush over to me. The rain leaves clean tracks through the mud on my arms.
I manage to kneel, ready to stand, but Killian beats me to it. Gripping the back of my shirt, he tugs me to my feet.
“What just happened?” Seth asks.
“What do you mean?” I grumble, trying to wriggle free from Killian.
“Explain?” Killian demands.
I run my hand along my arm, brushing a thick clump off my elbow before looking up and setting my gaze on them.
“The bubble’s shrinking.”
Pissed Pax hadn’t really left, and this news sparks a new level of glow in his eyes. “Everyone, inside now,” he growls.
Killian lets me go, motioning for me to walk ahead of him.
“Ah, no. You first,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself.
Yay, once again I’m wet and muddy.
Killian grunts, which I translate to mean ‘stupid’, or maybe ‘you’re being stupid’ when he wraps an arm around me and pulls me toward the cottage ahead of Pax. I’d call this move the poker-faced headlock. Definitely not for comfort. Nope. This is to stop any kind of movement that puts me out of Killian’s reach. But no amount of knowing his motives can dampen how much I like this. My muscles leaning into his, my heart rate slowing.
Everything about Killian makes me feel safe, and I may be the only person who’s not an Elorsin to feel this way in the entire world.
The two of them dump their gear bags and saddles just inside the door. Killian releases my neck and nudges me towards the couch before beelining for the single-seater.
“No way,” I say, and he stops, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
“If we’re staying here, then you’re not sitting down soaking wet. Get changed first,” I say.
Order. That was definitely an order.
He looks at himself like he hadn’t even realized he was wet.
“I’m not kidding,” I tell him. “You don’t have a team of servants here.”
He cracks a slight smile, then grabs his bag and vanishes up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I point at Pax. “You too.”
“Not until you’re washed clean, dry, and dressed in something better than that,” he says, waving a hand at me. “And Roarke tells me everything about your bubble.”
I look down for the first time and take in exactly what it is I’m wearing. Getting to Pax was more important – and so was kissing him.
It’s a dress; I’d worked that out already. The top half falls in layers that ruffle over my curves. Some parts reach my knees, and others are shorter. It was mostly white with silver stitching, now it’s mostly brown and dripping. There’s no sleeves, just long lengths of fabric from my shoulders that fall at odd angles. I twist, trying to see what the back of me looks like.
“Yeah, it’s on back-to-front,” Seth says.
Thanks, Seth!
“You were so busy trying to get to Pax that I didn’t have a chance to tell you,” he says.
Streaks of light fill the sky in the exact same instant as the thunder booms. The house shakes, and the glass in the windows rattles as if the static that pinches at me is pinching at everything else too. I rub my hand up and down my arm, trying to ease the electric sensation from my skin.
Killian pads down the stairs, stopping to drape his wet clothes over the winding banister.
“Do you have any more clothes?” Pax asks me. “Never mind,” he adds before I can answer.
He leans down, grabs his bag, and yanks it from the ground like the thing has somehow offended him. Then heads for the stairs.
“Where’s the food?” Seth asks, heading for the kitchen.
“There’s not much; Eydis lived a simple life,” Roarke says, resting against the arm of the couch.
“No, nope. Not happening, guys,” I say, jumping in front of Seth before he can traipse more water through the place than already has been. “Both of you need to get dry first. You might not care about the wet and the cold, but I do. Once I’m dry, I don’t want to be sitting on a wet couch or walking on a wet floor.”
They look at me, a little too amused for my liking, possibly helped by the way my teeth chattering is muffling my words.
“Killian, you still feel like hitting something – right?” I ask the big guy behind me.
He grunts in reply. An ‘of course’ sound.
Seth and Roarke give in, resignation and perhaps annoyance pinching their expressions. It’s almost cute. Roarke has a little pout when he’s being told what to do. Seth gives me a sidelong glance that promises mischief.
“Beautiful,” Pax calls down the stairs. “I don’t know where your wall is anymore.”
He’s already at the second story. I can only just see his feet through the gaps in the stairs, hidden by the sharp twisting design.
“You’re already too far,” I call up. “Fifteen steps.”
My stomach turns at the fact. Just
