He scoffs, the sound heavily laden with derision. “I'm a thirty-two year old man. I'm too old for bedtime stories.”
Tossing a look over my shoulder, I blink at him expectantly until he caves, grumbling under his breath, but snuggles closer. Dramatically clearing my throat as I resettle on my pillow, I begin, “Once upon a time, there was this cranky asshole who thought that his overbearing attitude was perfectly acceptable because he assumed that he came off as brooding and mysterious. Spoiler alert, he was wrong. People just thought he was a dick.”
He snorts in amusement, but doesn’t interrupt, so I continue. “Then one day he came across his worst enemy; his female counterpart. She, too, was a bit of a dick, but lucky for her, she had nice tits so she could actually pull it off. Plus, the rest of her sparkling personality balanced it out, so everything was cool. For her, of course, not him.”
His breath tickles the back of my neck. “Naturally. Makes perfect sense.”
“Only to discover that he wasn'treallyan asshole, he just had shitty people skills and was overtired. Practically a Princess and the Pea retelling. And our amazing heroine used some of her many, many, maaaaaaaaany talents to deduce the problem.”
It might be my imagination, but his voice sounds more subdued. “And what problem was that?”
“That he needed a new mattress because his was lumpy as hell and about ten years past the point of needing to be replaced. So the moral of the story is he was simply stubborn and a cheapass, not really an asshole like everyone thought. So he wised up, ordered a new bed, and was so grateful to the heroine for solving all of his problems that he bought her a cookie and showered her in affection for the rest of their days. And they all lived happily ever after.”
With a few soft chuckles, he pulls me tighter against him, banding an arm firmly around my stomach. "I thought this story was supposed to be boring."
“Alas, the heroine was flawed and couldn't tell a dull story if her life depended on it.” Even my eyes are feeling heavy now, my words coming out sluggish. “So the overtired, stubborn cheapass got over himself and finally went to sleep.”
Voice heavy with exhaustion, he mumbles, “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
Humming, I counter, “Of course it does, because he’d do anything to make the heroine happy. And nothing would make her happier than him shutting up for a change and getting some much needed sleep.”
“Sounds like this heroine needs to get her priorities straight. Wasn’t she just talking about foot rubs and orgasms?”
“No, that was me. Get your princesses straight, you harlot.”
Chuckling, he presses a lazy kiss to my shoulder. “My mistake.”
Eyelids heavy, I scoot closer against him, pulling the sheet tighter around my shoulders. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, nobody’s perfect.”
His words are slurred, already half-asleep. “Of course you are, shut up.”
With a sleepy smile, I close my eyes, breathing easier. The only thoughts left weighing on my mind are random images of people engulfed in shadows, slowly dragged down into the puddles of blood at their feet. They’re there and gone in a flash, my subconscious packaging up the nightmarish thoughts and chucking them into their designated corner where they can’t hurt me, leaving me with only the peaceful sound of Hunter’s rhythmic breathing, and a comforting swell of heat that reaches all the way to my bones.
***
"How the hell are yousleeping right now?" Damian’s pissed off voice jolts me from my dream.
“Great, Ijustgot him to sleep. Now he's going to be cranky for the rest of the day; I hope you're proud of yourself.”
Hunter growls, his voice a rumbling vibration against the base of my neck. “I'm not a damn toddler.”
Prying open an eyelid, I peer at Damian glaring down at us. “See?”
He scrubs a hand down his face, pacing beside the bed. “He was watching you this entire time, Sabrina. He knew what you were, who you were, and didnothing. And now that you’re back here, he’s acting like it’s no big deal, laughing at all of us like he’s twenty steps ahead. What does he know that we don’t? Why can’t we see it?”
With a long sigh, the residual sleep fades from my body. “You wanted to bring me here; I'm here. You want me to get the Slaughters on your side for when you're ready to try and take Ash out again? I think we're well on the way to that being a possibility. So tell me, what good does repeating the same mantra of 'We wanted the depressed mountain men to see you, but how dare they look at you? Let them get to know you so they'll be inspired to mutiny, but don't talk to anyone, because they'll want to bone you and men are evil,’ do?” Pushing myself upright, I shake my head, more tired than I was when I laid down in the first place. “What do you want from me, Damian?”
He flops down on the mattress near our feet, frustrated and defeated. “Fuck, I don't even know anymore. Everything seemed so clear when we left, but now that we're home, I'm constantly on edge looking at every potential threat and noticing things I’d overlooked before you were involved.”
Haltingly, Hunter suggests, “Or we’re noticing things that wecouldn’tbefore she claimed us.”
My eyes widen, gazing down at Damian sprawled out at our feet, his hand resting on my ankle. “Kaige couldn't do anything the first night you shifted.” Scrunching up my face, I nearly growl as a headache begins to form. “But all of you have been able to fuck with me to your heart’s content even after I claimed you.”
He furrows his brow. “Maybe there's an exemption for those of us within the pack to affect each other?”
The longer I focus on it, the angrier I get. “Maybe you guys are immune, but I'm not. I don't even get the default canine-spirit-inhabited benefit of being effortlessly athletic like the rest of you.” Freeing myself from them, I slip off the bed and growl, “If Ash can screw with people's heads, it would explain why I keep struggling to hold onto thoughts, and the immunity I gave you as to why you guys are finally seeing things around here like they really are.”
Bypassing my backpack, I tug on my suitcase’s zipper. “In what world is that fair? It’s like I’m being punished for being helpful.” Rummaging through the contents, I pull a couple of things free and return to toss them on the bed. “I swear by all that’s unholy, if our quest turns into me playing sidekick and giving you all of my power so you can kill someone and reap the glory, I’m embedding a fork into each of your retinas.”
