Page 101 of Siren’s Secret

“Well, what are you craving then?” the healer asked with a smile.

“Lark’s triple cheeseburgers with sweet potato fries and a chocolate milkshake?” his mate said with such a hopeful tone that both Marc and Ilijas laughed out loud.

“How about you eat the soup now, and if your stomach feels all right, we’ll get you those burgers tomorrow?” Ilijas suggested.

“Very healer of you,” Wave snarked back. “Fine. But I want pumpkin puree soup with chili oil and feyling bread croutons on top.”

Ilijas chuckled. “I’ll see what we can do about that.”

Jarred chose that moment to change back, buck naked, and he climbed up from the bed, holding his hand out to Wave.

“I’ll take you to the shower.”

Irishen expected Wave to agree, but she seemed reluctant to leave Marc’s embrace and the mage was clutching her to him like he was afraid she would poof into thin air. Hellion clearly noticed the same thing, and he opened his mouth to say something.

“Why don’t you make sure there is something for Wayla to eat, Hellion?” he asked quickly.

“I’m not a fucking chef or servant.” Hellion glared at him.

The urge to bite the hell out of the male until he begged for mercy rose hard in him, hard enough that he sensed Wave’s interest peaking. Ruefully, he shook his head. His mate was the perfect little package.

“Duly noted, Your Highness,” he needled Hellion. “Now, are you going to help or sulk?”

“Fuck you,” Hellion huffed. “Why is everyone on my case all of a sudden?”

“I really am hungry,” Wave said, and her rumbling stomach made the point glaringly clear.

“I’ll go make you the soup, Wayla,” Ilijas said. “Try not to stand too long in the shower. You might still feel faint and weak.”

“I’ll get her the fucking soup!” Hellion spun on his heel marched out the door.

His tone and every line in his body called for Irishen to follow him and put him back in his place. Preferably well spanked and under him. Maybe his mate could sit on his face to shut him up.

With a shrug, Ilijas followed Hellion out and closed the door behind him. That jolted Irishen back into the moment and he turned to face Wave.

“Whatever you were thinking about just now, yes,” she said as soon as their eyes locked.

“Little mate.” He couldn’t help but purr and reached out with a strand of ice. Wave eagerly leaned into his caress. “It’s not like that,” he felt compelled to say.

Wave blinked a couple of times and something sad flashed in her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Shower, Claimed?” Jarred asked, still holding his hand out to her.

“You heard Ilijas. She shouldn’t stand that long,” Marc hurried to say.

“I wasn’t going to let her stand—”

“Why don’t you two take her together?” Irishen interjected. “You did a good job of washing her last time.”

“They did?” Wave looked confused.

“Yes, little mate. They washed the lalwe root off you.”

“Oh.”

There it was again, that tightening in their bond at the mention of the root. She didn’t seem to mind Marc and Jarred washing her then—or now—but she was fixated on the poison. Irishen looked at Marc and decided to risk it.

“Anything you need to tell us, morsel?”