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He should be dead. Wyverns ganging up on him. Then the winged women—not banshees, not pure-blooded demons, but also not entirely human.
Blood had caked into his skin. Ryan and Archer had helped him wash it all off in the shower. Bruised and battered themselves, the entire team had taken tough hits today. Archer might take another day or two to heal, but he jumped in to help Vann clean up.
Humiliating, not being able to stand long enough on his own, let alone lift his arms high enough to wash himself.
With Ryan bracing one side, Vann hobbled down the hall. After a quick check that they were steady, Archer dashed ahead. If today’s fight had been a success, the room would be louder. More laughter.
Still, they rallied, even when shit hit the fan. Comfort food, comfort company, and comfortable conversation topics. Wounds had been cleaned and bandaged.
Savory goodness flooded his nose and stirred his stomach. Fuck, only a few hours ago, his stomach had been ripped open. His insides not on the inside.
Astrid was regaling Lexi with stories about werewolves as they set out pizzas with thick, fluffy crusts, some with loads of toppings—including one with jam and jalapenos and bacon. Salad bowls he didn’t even know he owned were overflowing with greens. Chocolate chip cookies formed a craggy mountain on a platter. Bodie paced with the baby and snatched a cookie from the stack.
They’d all taken a beating today, and food and sleep were necessary to recover enough to fight again tomorrow. Normally, he could devour an entire pizza after a big fight. Fuel.
Today… his stomach pinched, still too raw.
It would be at least a few weeks before he was in fighting form.
They didn’t have weeks.
Quinn grabbed a few cookies and a slice, and flashed a quick wink at him. For Ryan, she landed a long, million-things-said look.
Bennett and Adair were curled up in the oversized beanbag chair, looking out at the dark ocean. Faster than the rest—thanks to Bennett’s extra demon infusion from the original vampire sire, and Adair’s centuries of vampire survival instincts—they looked healthy and hale compared to the rest. Bennett whispered something in her ear, and she laughed and grabbed her drink from the side table before snuggling closer.
Lana carried two plates heaped with pizza and greens to the living area. Archer bit his bottom lip as he grinned at her, then his entire affection was for the pizza as he lifted a floppy bite and sank his teeth in. A hunk of sausage threatened to tumble onto the new sofa, but Lana dove in and plucked it off Archer’s slice before tragedy struck. Munching and teasing each other, they curled onto the sofa, Archer’s long legs stretched on the coffee table, and Lana curled her legs up and settled into a cozy cuddle with him.
Eryn.
Vann’s pulse tripped over itself.
Quietly watching it all, Eryn hadn’t dished up with the others. An observer and a sponge in the unfamiliar scene. Romance wasn’t the only connection she avoided; it was friendship, too.
How had he not realized how deep her loneliness was rooted?
Too unsteady to walk on his own yet, Vann couldn’t rush ahead.
Braced at his side, Ryan said, “I’ll dish up a plate for you.”
“I could go for a big fucking glass of water first.” Vann’s voice was still full of gravel. Even with all the IV fluids they’d pumped into him, he’d lost so much blood that he felt like a few dozen vampires had been feeding on him.
Ryan adjusted his grip around Vann’s side. “Your phone got smashed by wyverns, by the way.”
“Fu-uck.” Vann shook his head as he pictured it in a few dozen shards. “My sword?”
“We got it.”
Relief bolstered what little strength he had. “Thanks.”
Although there was plenty of room, Eryn scooted over so he had space to stretch out.
Vann gripped his side as he lowered to the sofa.
Ryan waited until Vann was settled before heading into the kitchen.
“Hey.” Vann dragged his feet up and opened toward Eryn.
“You couldn’t have waited until we’d talked?”
