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Roark grew tired of assuring Commander Nacon that Celene was safe. Ever since their arrival in Alexandria, the Firebrand jaguar manifested paranoia wider than his shoulders.
On the other hand, the Blood Coven descendant with diamond studs lining her ear, bobbed straight blonde hair, and designer sunglasses in place who he obsessed over was excited. Maybe the shifter could grow a pair as big as his female’s.
Indigo bumped Roark’s shoulder. “Play nice. It’s sweet. He’s worried about her.”
He wrapped an arm around Indy’s waist, pulling her close with little resistance. “Would you like it if I worried about you that way?”
“We don’t have the same kind of relationship. Fact is, we don’t have a relationship. We have sex.”
Is that what they had? Sex? No connection? Possible.
But the comment cut, Roark’s breath hitching. Damn. Indy was right, of course. He planned to discuss the matter with her later while she was screaming his name, his cock buried deep. Yeah. They’d be discussing the meaning of their relationship.
Such as it was. Or wasn’t.
Indy looped her arm through the crook of Celene’s elbow. “Come on, coven kitten. I gotta see you work. I’ve met few psychokinetics, especially ones who can reach below the earth and scoop up objects. I’m in the presence of a true master.”
Digging into her back pocket, Indigo presented a business card. “I’m always on the lookout for employees. I could use you.”
Celene glanced at the info. “A real job? Mind you, I don’t need one, but some adventure would be great.” She tucked it away.
“No. You don’t need employment or adventure. You’ve got me.” Nace pulled alongside her.
Celene’s eyes narrowed. “No? Did the offensive word really pop out of your sexy mouth?”
“I think I have some say-so in your life.”
Celene’s fists jerked to her hips. “Of course you do. To be clear, though, you have no more right to decide what I do than I have to make decisions about your job.”
“But I’m the commander of the North Shelter stronghold.”
“Ooh. The BMOC has spoken.” Celene shook her head, turning to Indigo. “Are all Aeternal males this domineering?”
Indy tapped her chin with a finger. “Let me think. Vampires, demons, and berserkers definitely are. Of course shifters make them look like choirboys. Still, I trust you’ll manage. If he gives you too much trouble, just de-fang him while he sleeps. Your jaguar will be gumming his prey.”
Despite a growl from Nace, Celene grabbed Indigo’s arm to hustle them both forward. “I love a good challenge. Now show me this tomb.”
A snarly Nace dropped back to walk beside Roark.
“Don’t look at me,” the raven shifter said. “I can’t understand females any better than you do.”
“You’d think they’d want someone stronger to protect them.”
“Yeah. I suppose they keep tripping over their pesky independence. You’ll probably have to do the protecting shit on the sly.” Roark puffed out his chest, proud of himself for delivering such sound advice.
Nace grinned. “A jag can do sneaky.”
Once they came to the spot where the necromancer Miller Nash had marked the tomb, Roark planted his boots in the dirt. “Straight down, Celene, exactly 378.3 feet. You’ll be bringing an empty scabbard and a ruby to the surface.”
“A twofer. Never tried that.” Business face on, Celene slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “Describe the lay of the land.”
Indy answered. “Below is a burial chamber. Antony and Cleopatra’s, we believe. A sword was with the Roman. Not anymore. On his chest is the empty scabbard. Near it is a blood-red stone. Like it fell off the hilt. Likely a ruby.”
“Okay, then.” Celene laced her fingers together to crack her knuckles. “I have to be directly over the items.”
Roark scuffed up a spot in the dirt. “Stand here.”
She exchanged places with him. Nace moved behind her, cupping her hips.
