If he wanted a princess, he could have one. That would never be me.
Realizing my thoughts had drifted from the conversation, I focused on the matter at hand.
Lupe was arguing with Bash over the logistics of an extinct supernatural creature coming back from the dead. I heard words like "colonies" and "possibilities" as well as curse words from Bash stemming from "anal plug" to "ass wiping vagina".
And then I heard a soft murmuring, directly behind me.
"They live in trees. They live in trees. They live in trees."
"Jax?" I whispered, taking a step closer to the Vampire. His wild eyes rapidly moved around the room in a calculating manner. He continued to mutter nonsense beneath his breath.
"Not nonsense," Ryland whispered in my ear, and I shivered. The Shadow moved with grace until he was directly beside me, his fingers interlocked with my own. Until that moment, I hadn't even realized I was thinking out loud.
"Then what the hell is he saying?" I asked him, eyes locked on Jax. He began to pace, running a hand through his short brown hair in agitation. With each word, his voice grew louder and louder until he was almost screaming, garnering the attention of the rest of the men in the room. "Jax," I whispered, taking a step closer. Ryland moved with me until we were face to face with the erratic Vampire. His wide eyes pleaded with me, but for what, I couldn't discern.
"They live in trees," he said earnestly.
"The Fae?"
"That's true," Lupe murmured from behind me. "I remember reading about that in one of my books. I would have to look at it in more detail..." He trailed off, mind already wandering to what new discovery he could make.
"Not nonsense," Ryland repeated. He gave my fingers a quick squeeze. "Jaxie here knows more than he lets on. We just need to figure out a way to get the information out of him."
SEVEN
LUPE
The library was my favorite room in the entire Capital.
It was a good combination of old and modern, elegant and simple. Three-tiered chandeliers created an aperture towards the mahogany shelves. Row after row of dusty, centuries old books sat on the distressed wood, their spines creased and faded with age. It carried the pervasive scent of old books - a heady mixture of dust and mold.
Still, the library was my sanctuary. My escape. In the shelves, with sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, I felt like I was home.
I perched myself on the wooden bench of one of the tables, a stack of books piled high. The librarian had been quite helpful when I had inquired about ancient texts and mythological studies. After a moment of careful perusal, she handed me a stack the size of my arm. Throughout the day, she had repeatedly added to the pile.
My eyelids drooped heavily, fatigue and hunger dominating me. Still, I charged on, my eyes rapidly moving over the faded text.
"You need a break," a soft, familiar voice said from behind me. Electricity coursed through my veins at her presence. Her distinct scent of pomegranates wafted to my nose, and I inhaled deeply. I would never admit to anyone my obsession with her smell, least of all to her. She would think I was weird - or, at the very least, weirder than she already perceived me as. Still, I couldn't help but inhale deeply as she ventured forward.
"No break," I muttered gruffly, focusing back on my latest text. It was an old mythological book, written before the Seven Deadly Sins appeared on Earth, that detailed the supposed supernatural creatures on the Earth. Of course, everything was merely a theory. Humans hadn't known about the supernatural world at the time this was written.
Z was silent, and I was afraid she had left.
A moment later, a small hand rested on my shoulder followed by a steaming bowl of soup. I glanced at her in surprise...and more than a little bit of disbelief. I couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of me. My mother had died when I was a child, and my father hadn't been the nurturing type of parent.
"Eat," she said stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest. I noticed that she was no longer wearing those frilly, silk dresses she had been forced into when posing as Zara. Instead, she wore black pants and a tight, black shirt. Her blond curls were pulled back into a high ponytail.
Though I loved how she looked in dresses, I preferred her in pants. It was obviously what she was most comfortable wearing, and the pants accentuated the muscles in her legs. Those damn, perfect legs...
With a murmured thanks, I blew on the soup before swallowing a bite. It was delicious, the creamy broth heightening the flavor of the chicken and vegetables. Who knew Z could cook?
She must've read something on my face, for she laughed. It wasn't a giggle - I wasn't sure if Z knew how to do something as dainty as that - but a full on belly laugh. Tears welled in her eyes, but she brushed them away.
"God, no. I didn't make that. Devlin did. I don't fucking cook."
Smirking, I took another sip of soup. Now that I was looking for it, I could clearly tell this was a masterpiece created by my Genie brother. He had a certain fascination with cooking. As he said, it was a way to create, not destroy. He also preferred spices over bland favors.
Z sat beside me, eyes carefully roaming over the various books.
"What have you found?" she asked, grabbing one.
