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“He needs sleep,” Kenna said. “I hardly recognized him. When did he grow a beard?”
Connell shook his head. “He hasn’t. The man doesn’t even time to shave, but he wanted to offer his time to the oracle this morning. I couldn’t say no.”
“You could, and you should. If you and Mòr won’t turn him away, then I will. He’s doing plenty already. More than enough, and he’s wearing himself down.”
“I can’t tell him to stop making time offerings to the oracle. That’s goes against—”
The group quietened as Cecily shuffled into the dining room, wearing a long pair of purple flannel pants and a cartoon tank. Her brunette hair tangled across her face, and she plopped onto the end of the bench, far away from everyone, staring morosely at her empty plate. Camille followed, dressed in jeans and a sweater. She gave Kenna and Mòr an apologetic glance and sat beside her friend.
Lila spied bruises along Camille’s wrist, and a swollen lip, both covered thickly with makeup.
“Training got a bit hectic yesterday,” Camille said. “I’m afraid my university’s self-defense classes didn’t prepare me for the training here.”
Connell eyed her lip. “That’s because we don’t teach self-defense. We teach you how to fight. You’ll get the hang of it. You just need to keep practicing.” He turned his gaze to Lila and Dixon, who sat beside Kenna on the other side of the bench. “You’re welcome to work out with us too. We have a gym on the compound.”
Lila nodded absently. Cecily’s reappearance pushed her thoughts toward Tristan and Katia. The pair had likely slept in his bed again the night before, having countless rounds of sex late into the morning. Maybe they’d even made love on the couch, since they had the place all to themselves.
Blair bumbled in a few moments later, her concentration focused on some point in the distance. She clutched a book and a spiral tightly in her arms. A pencil worked through her bun, with loose tendrils falling into her eyes.
Kenna leaned over to Dixon and Lila. “Don’t even try to say a word to her yet. You’ll regret snapping her out of wherever she is right now. Let Connell handle it. You don’t bat at a mountain that thumps you back. Not twice, anyway.”
As if executing some routine, Connell poured Blair a glass of orange juice and traded it for her books in one swift movement.
Blair looked up, lost for a few moments. “Hey!”
“Sit.” He piled her things on the steering wheel bench.
“But I have—”
“To sit and eat. Spare us the rest this morning, won’t you? I do have a tranq gun lying around somewhere, and I am in the mood to test it out and see if it still works.”
Blair sat at her place. No more grouchy words. No arguments.
Perhaps he’d tranqed her once before.
Kenna passed a platter of biscuits around the table. Lila took a biscuit, something she’d only eaten a few times in her life, and poured white gravy on top,
just as the others had done. Then she piled the rest of her plate with eggs and bacon and a hash brown. The meal might not have been up to Chef’s standards, but there was something comforting about the heaviness. Nico’s hash browns had not been overstated, either.
“How’s your cabin?” Mòr asked.
“It’s beautiful, and the computer has met my needs.” Lila couldn’t say more at the table, not without blabbing her reason for being at the compound.
“You look almost as exhausted as Nico. Is the bed comfortable?”
“Very. I just stayed up too late last night.”
“Why?” Blair sipped her juice. “Were you and your friend having sex?”
Lila nearly coughed on her second hash brown.
“Blair,” Kenna said, “I’ve told you a hundred times, you can’t just ask those sorts of questions at the table and not from people you don’t know.”
“I can. I just did.” Blair stared at Lila expectantly, her blue eyes curious.
“We weren’t having sex. I was just working.”
“Oh, I do that too,” Blair said before turning her gaze to Dixon. “I’ve forgotten your name.”
