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I shift farther away. “You’re not cute.”
“She’s going to wear you down.” Flint comes out of the bedroom, , still wearing his pajamas with naughty cat on them and his black hair sticking up in all directions. “The more you fight it, the more love you’ll receive.”
“I’d like her more if she stopped putting her ass in my face or stepping on my boobs.” My nipple still hurts from where a paw landed with distressing precision the night before.
That put a stop to Flint’s frisky plans for the night. He’s lucky I let him stay in our bed once the pain faded to a dull throb.
He moves to join me on the settee, then thinks better of poking the bear and settles in a chair across from me.
Marc joins us, passing Flint a steaming mug. With none of the caution the soul witch displayed, he scoops Anny up and steals her place on the cushion beside me, settling the fox in his lap. “Rough morning?”
“Can you call it that when the sun isn’t fully up?” I fix my glare on him, taking in his dark-wash jeans and the crisp, blue button-up he wears. “Why are you dressed so early?”
“I’m going to light a fire under someone’s ass at the inspector’s office until they approve our cabin repair to move forward.” He takes a long sip of coffee. “You’re not the only one getting twitchy with our current situation.”
Darius steps out of the bedroom wearing tailor-fitted, black slacks and a maroon sweater, despite the promised heat of the day.
“Why are you all in such a rush to check out of such fine accommodations?” He walks to the dining table, selects a buttered croissant, and pours himself a cup of tea. “We have everything we need at our fingertips.”
My hand tightens around my mug. “Except privacy.”
Flint balances his mug on one knee. “Or a dedicated place to meditate.”
“There’s nothing to do here.” Marc scratches Anny between the ears. “And I’m getting sick of the food.”
Darius tsks under his breath. “You’re all heathens.”
Flint sniffs in disgust. “Snob.”
“Fussy ass.” I drain the rest of my coffee.
Marc continues to pet Anny and stays silent, the traitor.
The sound of the shower cuts off, and a moment later, Sharpe walks out of the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.
He pours creamer from a little, silver pitcher into his coffee, glances at all of us, and raises his brows. “What’s with the mood in the room?”
Since Marc is distracted by Anny, I steal his mug. “Darius wants to stay here forever.”
Sharpe dunks a croissant into his mug as he looks at the ignis demon. “Really?”
Darius’s nose wrinkles with disgust, his focus on the soggy pastry. “I merely pointed out that it does not lack for accommodations.”
“He likes the catering.” My stomach rumbles, but like Marc, I’m sick of all the fancy food.
“It is a quick walk to all of our jobs, as well.” At Flint’s huff of annoyance, Darius amends, “Most of our jobs.”
“I’d like a little more distance from mine,” I snap.
“It’s tough living and working so close together. Especially as the local guard.” Concern flickers across Sharpe’s face. “It’s too easy for bad blood to follow us home.”
Darius slides a napkin under Sharpe’s mug. “Which the Harbor’s wards protect us from.”
“Only while we’re inside the building.” Sharpe stretches, his lean muscles rippling. “A little separation from work would be nice. Should we rent an apartment outside of the Yard? My old place might have an opening.”
Darius shudders. “Please, no, I implore you.”
Much as I’m growing to dislike the Harbor, Darius is right that it does have the benefit of magical protection. Our cabin will have similar protections, along with state-of-the-art security, but Sharpe’s old complex?
