Page 108 of Siren’s Secret

“You need to eat,” Hellion insisted.

Wave glanced at Irishen, who nudged her hand toward the spoon.

“Fine, fine.” Wave spooned some more soup and rolled her eyes. “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when you can eat your fucking soup without your hand trembling,” Hellion muttered. Then he walked out of the room, leaving a stupefied Wave behind.

By the time Friday rolled around, Wave was thoroughly sick of the Powerhouses. It had been a week since she woke up and she had expected some fussing, sure, but she hadn’t expected thirteen pairs of sharp eyes on her all the time.

Her hand trembled a little? Someone told Ilijas.

She burned her tongue on a too hot coffee? Ilijas got a text.

She blinked a little too long? Ilijas was notified again.

Her classes hadn’t been any better. Diana, Chrissy, Ginny, or Salis shadowed her every step. Sinister walked her to the class, Marc picked her up, Grant hung out with them at lunch. They were everywhere.

And when she had swung by the library, with Salis shadowing her, Mrs. Riverson had forbidden her from coming to work until she was fully healed. When Wave tried to insist that she was fine, the woman had actually called Ilijas. Wave had no idea how she even had the healer’s number.

Ilijas took it all with good humor as he checked Wave over every evening. There weren’t any noticeable effects of the poison lingering. Not beyond persistent fatigue. She was too tired to argue about the fussing and Ilijas said it was a normal side-effect of lalwe root.

Irishen had sent his spy digging about any information about her father. Wave was thankful because she barely had energy to get through her classes. And she still couldn’t show weakness on campus. By some miracle, the attack on her room was talked about as a prank.

No one knew she had been the target of the attack.

Hellion stomped around the mansion, muttering about Hell and politics. There were still no trials scheduled over the Academy’s attack and from what Wave could gather, no news on what was going on in the Hell Realm.

Wave tried to avoid him the best she could, but he always seemed to be there. The mansion could feel small when the demon slammed a door every time he caught her kissing Irishen. Her mate just rolled his eyes and muttered something about spanking.

The only positive she was ready to admit was her bond with Jarred was starting to settle with all the time they spent together. Enough that she wasn’t zapping everyone who raised their voice around him. She still couldn’t go into the basement when he was training, though.

So far Ilijas hadn’t cleared her for the shielding practice either. When Wave had complained about it to Grant while he picked up her lunch yesterday, the man had actually patted her head.

“You are Jarred’s Claimed, shrimp. Think of anyone you don’t want to fuck like an annoying, overprotective big brother and you’ll start to understand a lot of things we do.”

“Big brother?” Wave had spluttered.

Grant nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want to fuck you.” He actually shuddered at that. “And you don’t want to fuck me.” Now it was Wave’s turn to shudder and Grant grinned. “But I still want to smash that nymph’s nose in for calling you a slut.”

The last part he said loud enough that the people at the table next to them glanced their way and then at the nymph in question.

“Then why don’t you?” Wave asked before attacking her lasagna, or the feyling version of it.

“Paperwork,” Grant said. “And it wouldn’t really help. They won’t stop until you put a stop to it yourself.”

“I don’t mind,” Wave had muttered.

That was yesterday. Today, she did mind. Not about the whispers about her, but they were making comments about Irishen and Elena.

“How much trouble would I be in if I punched that dryad’s tit?”

Salis choked next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her in another direction. “Probably not much, but I would be, since I’m supposed to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t overdo it.”

“Fine. But I really need Ilijas to tell the rest of them that I’m fine. The only one who’s not constantly fussing is Jarred,” Wave bemoaned, knowing full well she sounded ungrateful.

“That’s because he can sense you in the bond, so he doesn’t need to rely on you telling him when you are tired.”

“What?!”