King Cave (Page 22)

I shook my head, snickering. “I’m sure that’s all she offered.”

Ezra glanced over his shoulder, still wearing a cocky grin. “No more than Finn did you.”

My eyebrows puckered. “How are you going to find her again?”

A deep chuckle reverberated inside his chest. “I got the TV from her room.”

My blink was sluggish. Sometimes I was a complete idiot. I should have seen that one coming. “Now who’s jumping into whose bed?”

He laughed outright, his back muscles flexing as he continued sauntering away.

“Ezra! Don’t take too long!” I hollered when he didn’t comment. I was thirsty, dammit.

He continued chortling as he turned the corner, and then he was no longer in view.

“Damn man,” I muttered under my breath, seriously hoping he didn’t decide for a round — possibly his second — with this Jessica woman. Pivoting, I squeaked and jumped straight into the air, thanking God my fangs had retracted during our bout. Landing hard, I stumbled and slammed my shoulder against the unforgiving black wall, utterly startled by the man who had snuck behind me.

Dark brown eyes stared down at me, his mien just as peacefully beautiful as his skin, which was the color of melted chocolate mixed with cream due to his Native American ancestry. Ezra’s f**king dad. Watching me make a fool of myself, he placed his hands in the pocket of his black dress pants, only staring, not a word said.

Swallowing hard, I pushed off the wall. Damn if I didn’t start babbling. “I’m going to check on Pearl and Jack, since their mates died yesterday.” I edged around him when he only cocked his head. “Ezra’s going to pick us all up some drinks. We need them after the day we had yesterday.” He had heard something like that anyway, spying on us as he must have been. I pointed in the direction Ezra went as I started walking backward. “He went that way, if you’re looking for him.” Still…he said nothing, so I mumbled, “Well, see ya later.” Hopefully not. I turned a corner, getting the hell away from his too intuitive line of sight.

Chapter Five

Standing stunned inside the doorway to our bedroom, I whispered, “Pearl?” Gently shutting the door so I didn’t startle her, I crept forward, hands out in the worldwide gesture of I mean you no harm. “Pearl?”

“Hmm?” She stared at the shard of glass in her hand, sitting in the middle of our living room. The furniture had been blown to bits once again during our absence. Apparently she had wanted to fix everything earlier so it would be pretty when she destroyed it again. Not only that, but lying around her cross-legged position on the rug were large chunks of her golden hair, which she had obviously cut off with the sharp piece of glass she now fisted. There was no scent of blood in the air; she was fortunate not to have cut herself. Yet.

To top it off, as if the killing object in her hand and her new hit-or-miss haircut weren’t enough, she was glowing so brightly I could barely see the bed. Where Jack lay. Just…watching.

“Okay, okay,” I murmured softly, maneuvering through the new debris and slowly lowering to one knee in front of her. “How about you give me that,” I held my hand out, “so…I can finish cutting your hair for you.” That didn’t sound so bad working on the fly.

Pearl seemed to think so, too, as she easily handed over the sharp object, nodding in an almost childlike way and turning so I could finish cutting her hair. With a f**king piece of glass.

Breathing heavily through my nose, I didn’t dare move away; there was more glass everywhere for her to reach for if she wanted it. I went to work on her hair. That was how Ezra found us fifteen minutes later when he walked through the door, cheeks flushed from drinking. I didn’t stop, just kept concentrating on my work.

When Pearl, with her decently cut hair if I did say so myself, passed out in the middle of fixing the furniture again three hours later, I finally settled on top of Ezra where he sat on the couch — now perfect and clean — and impatiently waited for him to recline, and then sank my fangs into his warm skin, sighing as his hot blood finally spread into my mouth.

Being a Mystical, one would think having your tubes tied wouldn’t be such a big deal. Mysticals heal much faster than Commoners. Add in the fact that the more powerful you are, the faster you heal, and I thought it would have been a breeze, even given the fact that the Mage who had done the procedure on me inside the back room of the medical unit of King Cave — while under a spell from Antonio — had to do it alone, without assistance.

It wasn’t easygoing afterward.

Nor did I heal as quickly as I had thought. The procedure had to be physically and magically performed so I wouldn’t heal afterward. Waking from the process, I couldn’t function properly. The pain was not pleasant, so I was now higher than a kite from the cocktail the suddenly confused Mage had given me, who was completely unaware of the procedure he had just performed.

Antonio had to carry me back to my room because I couldn’t walk. He kept hushing me as I sang a little ditty while he carried me on the deserted round walkway of the living quarters. The time was who-knows-when; the only sign it was still the dead of night was the quiet surrounding us and the stars shining brightly on the ceiling. Turning a corner, he interrupted my singing and muttered, “The things I do for you.”

“Aw,” I smacked his cheek lightly, “I love you, too.”

He chuckled. “You love everybody right now.”

My chuckle matched his. “Not Cahal…Elder Zeller.” I shook my head against his shoulder. “He’s scary.” Thinking about that for a few moments, I slurred, “Antonio, are you one of the,” I spread wide my arm that wasn’t trapped against him, “many who think Ezra and I are having sex? Is that why you gave us one room?”

Antonio eyed me before lifting his gaze to watch where he was walking. “Do you really want to have this conversation right now?”

I scowled. “We’re not having sex.” I slashed my hand through the air as he knocked on Ezra’s door. “We’re just friends.”

Golden eyebrows rose.

“We’re not,” I expounded, turning my head when I saw the door open.

Ezra stood just inside our room, wearing only a pair of black pajama bottoms, which rode low on his hips, and revealing a goodly amount of hard muscled mocha flesh. His hair was still spiked perfectly, as if he hadn’t lay down for bed yet.