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“Yes. Where are the bowls?” she asked, trying to move Mal’s arm. It didn’t budge. “Mal.”
“Anders knows where the bowls are,” Mal said.
Anders chuckled, pulling bowls and plates down. “I got this.”
“Feeling better?” Mal asked Dante.
Dante nodded. “Once Hollis dug the silver out. Motherfuckers.”
She might not be a fan of cursing, but Dante’s description hit the nail on the head. If she were ever going to call someone that, it would be the Others. She glanced at Ellen, but the woman didn’t react. If anything, she seemed to share their sentiment.
“Silver bullets.” Finn shook his head. “On their own kind.”
“They are not your kind.” Ellen’s voice was harsh.
“Don’t you mean, ‘we’?” Mal asked.
Olivia squeezed his arm, hoping he’d get the hint. No talking to her. No giving her ammunition to push his buttons.
Ellen glared at him.
“For you.” Anders offered her a bowl of chili. “Mal.”
“Thank you, Anders.” Olivia took the bowl and inhaled deeply. Her stomach growled, loudly.
“I thought I was hungry.” Dante hopped off the couch and joined them.
“Dinner’s ready?” Hollis asked. “I’ll tell Brown. Maybe they’ll join us for dinner. I’m sure he’ll want to see you Mal.”
“Brown’s here?” Mal asked. “How’s he doing?”
Finn shook his head. “It’s been hard.”
“How is his daughter?” Mal asked.
Olivia watched their faces.
“She’s with him,” Finn said. “Just go easy on her.”
Mal nodded, his jaw locking. He glanced at Ellen.
Ellen met his gaze. Her face was blank, no teasing judgement or cynical smile. She was watching, waiting, and studying them. A ripple ran down Olivia’s back, drawing Mal’s gaze. He nodded, risking one more glance at Ellen. Maybe she wasn’t the threat. Maybe it was Brown’s daughter.
Chapter Seventeen
Mal watched the girl, torn. She was more wild than woman, her light eyes the same as Cyrus’s. She sat, pressed into the corner, her bowl of chili resting on her knees. While the rest of the pack talked and laughed around the large wooden table, Tess Brown tried to be invisible.
But every once in a while, she’d risk a glance up.
“Done?” Olivia asked, reaching for his bowl.
He took her hand and tugged her down into his lap. “No,” he whispered against her temple. She rested her head on his shoulder, instantly relaxing against him.
“He been like this since you met?” Anders asked Olivia. “Man-handling and bossy?”
Olivia shook her head. “Protective, yes.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Dante asked.
