Page 90 of Hallowed Bones

“We’re witches, Rabbit. Everything is complicated.”

“But does it really have to be?” I release my orange juice, my mouth full of the tart citrus flavor.

He turns, sliding a plate piled high with bacon in the center of the table like I didn’t just issue a challenge to the coven’s secrets. His smirk is pure mischief. “You’re cute when you’re stubborn.” He bends, and my breath hitches.

A buzzing noise sounds in the quiet room, and it isn’t until Lyall reaches back into the ass pocket of his jeans and pulls out a cell phone that I recognize it for what it is—a text message notification. His eyes widen on the screen for a split second before he types out a quick response and then looks up at me.

“What?” I ask, frowning as I glance over to Cameron and Reyes. Both of them are looking at him with brows raised as well.

“Text your friend and tell her that we’re not holding you hostage,” he huffs. “She’s threatening my damn truck.”

A snort falls from my nose and lips before I can stop it. Cheeks heating, I shake my head. “I texted her this morning.”

“Yeah?” Lyall invades my space, and all I can see are the lines of his chest and abdomen as he bends. “Well, I don’t think you were very reassuring,” he murmurs. “Call her later if you have to, but for the love of the Gods, get her off my back.” Instead of pressing his mouth—which is hovering far too close for me to actually comprehend his words—to mine, he slides two pieces of bacon onto my plate and straightens. I blink, looking from him to my plate and back again.

Before I can formulate a response, Reyes rolls his eyes and mutters, “Put on a fucking shirt,” right before he lifts the gray tee draped over one of the chairs and tosses it Lyall’s way.

Lyall catches it with an easy, fluid movement and then tugs it on as he drops the pan onto the now-turned-off stove. I return my attention to my plate even as the empty seat that should be Ezra’s remains empty. All the Sons of Salem are here with me save for the one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that first training day.

I shouldn’t let it bother me so much.

Halfway through breakfast, Cameron clears his throat. “You’re with me today,” he announces.

“More training?” I guess with a sigh as I walk my now-empty plate to the large sink against the far wall and set it in. Cameron moves up to my side and leans down to do the same. As he does, his tobacco-and-lavender scent invades my nostrils, and I find myself leaning closer.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmurs. I feel his voice in my spine, down into my bones. My stomach flips, and everything inside me tightens.

Before I do something stupid, I back off and jam my hands into my back pockets. “Fine. Where am I meeting you?”

Cameron studies me with a too-knowing gaze. “Is everything all right?”

“Yup,” I lie smoothly. “Just want to get the training over with so I can go home.”

“Do you really consider that dorm room your home?” Reyes asks from behind me.

I turn, shrugging. “It’s as much my home as anywhere else. It’s got all my stuff.”

Lyall rises with a stretch that highlights every line of muscle on his torso. I roll my eyes at myself for looking. Again.

“We’re heading into town,” he says. “Need us to grab you anything?”

I glance down at the jeans I’ve been wearing for two days and grimace. The oversized T-shirt smells like one of them. I don’t hate that as much as I should.

“Actually … can I go with you?” I ask. “If I’m stuck here much longer, I’m going to need more clothes.”

“You can’t skip training,” Cameron says. “And as far as everyone on campus knows, you’re here to recover.”

I groan, eliciting a chuckle from Reyes. “I am recovered.”

“You’re better,” Cameron amends, “but you’re not fully there yet. You’re still having nightmares.”

My gaze snaps to his face. He can tell just by looking at me? Before I can ask, though, Reyes distracts me.

“We can grab you some more stuff,” Reyes says. “You need anything other than clothes?”

“Toiletries and stuff,” I reply, my brow furrowing. “It’ll only be a few hours at most. I can just run into my dorm and—”

“Nope.” Lyall’s already shaking his head, rinsing off his plate. “If Cameron says no skipping, then no skipping.”