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And yes, maybe jerk off quickly so he’d stop thinking about Gio’s mouth and the sounds that came out of Gio as Lucien sank deep inside of him. Or the desperate cries and dirty words falling from Calder’s mouth as Gio sucked him within an inch of his life. Gio had been insatiable, waking and demanding to help take care of their morning wood before letting them shuffle out of his place. Not that Lucien was complaining.
His balls should have been empty after last night, but his brain needed only to pull up a couple of select memories—sliding into Gio, and Calder’s face as Gio sucked him off—and he was shooting hard on the wall, his fist wrapped tight around his dick and toes curling on the fucking tiles.
With his other hand braced against the tile to keep himself upright, Lucien shivered. Had they made things worse?
Someone knocked on the outer door to his bedroom and Lucien jerked upright, dropping his hand to his side as if the person knew what he’d been doing. Or worse, what he’d been thinking.
“Hurry up!” Wiley shouted, his voice sounding loud enough that he’d likely stuck his head inside the bedroom. “The goddesses are here. They’ve got news about the missing Weaver.”
Thank fuck! Something to focus on besides his issue with Calder.
Lucien finished washing in record time and jumped out of the shower. He was still drying off as he grabbed a pair of jeans and a forest-green shirt. Pulling the T-shirt on as he stepped outside of his room, he nearly ran straight into Calder, who was shoving wet hair off his eyes, his shoes still in his hands.
“Whoops! Sorry,” Lucien murmured.
“No, my bad,” Calder replied, stepping away. He looked up at him but stopped before reaching his eyes. His gaze skittered away again while a hint of a blush stole across his cheeks. So freaking adorable.
Lucien nearly groaned out loud. That was not the kind of reaction he needed to have to Calder. But then, neither was Calder’s. It would pass. Soon, everything would be normal but better. They’d stop sniping at each other and find a way to be friends without all this sexual tension.
For now, things were just going to be awkward.
Calder led the way down the back stairs to the kitchen, where everyone else was already gathered. Baer and Wiley were seated at the table, with Baer looking like he was still asleep in his rumpled T-shirt and lounge pants, while Wiley was practically bouncing with excitement beside him. Baer’s German shepherd, Ruby, was stretched out under the table at Baer’s feet, as if waiting for someone to drop a little breakfast in her direction.
Cort and Grey were also at the table. They were more awake, likely having already sucked back a cup of coffee each.
Dane and Clay were standing by the island, travels mugs of coffee in hand, with Aunt Flo. The goddess of earth and fire looked angry enough to start spitting fire herself like a small, grumpy dragon.
“Are you the only one who’s here?” Lucien asked.
Her steely gaze immediately snapped to him. “One goddess not good enough for you?”
Lucien flinched and backpedaled out of her reach. “No, ma’am!”
“Aunt Jo left. She’s worried about Willie,” Dane chimed in, potentially saving him from being roasted alive.
Flo sighed and rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Sorry, Lucien. Not your fault. We’re all in a state.” She walked over and lightly patted him on the arm.
The goddess appeared as a tiny, frail old woman who reminded him vaguely of Jessica Tandy, but there was an inner strength to her that was more dragonlike than human. Or maybe it was that he was the Fire Weaver, and it was the only comparison he could think of when it came to massive power in a tiny frame.
“What’s going on, Flo?” Clay asked as Calder dropped into one of the chairs at the center island while Lucien moved to the table. Distance was a good thing right now.
“We’ve been tracking the last Weaver. He’s been slowly making his way here.” She sighed and braced both her hands on her hips. “He’s young. So young.”
“Like what? A kid?” Dane gasped.
Flo’s head popped up as if she were snapped from some inner thought. “Kid? No. About twenty-four or twenty-five.”
“Gee, thanks,” Wiley muttered and Lucien smiled at his expression of disgust. Wiley was the youngest of them at a perky twenty-five. Four years younger than himself.
Baer woke enough to wrap an arm around his mate’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. “You’re a mature twenty-five,” he murmured, which earned him a derisive snort from Wiley.
“The point is that he’s gone missing,” Flo continued, putting them back on track.
“What?” Several people made the same demand, but Flo held her hands up, silencing them again.
“We know he was kidnapped by the pestilents, and thanks to their magic, we can’t track him. We have no idea where he was taken. Just that it happened last night.” Her thin shoulders slumped, and her eyes turned glassy. “Willie is in such a state. She’s been waiting so long for him to appear and then make his way here. Now, this…”
