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“Not…exactly.” The Soul Weaver drew the word out. He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing on Calder and Lucien while he rubbed two fingers across his lips as if contemplating what he could see. “Between soul mates, there’s usually a red ribbon, strong and brightly colored. There’s no mistaking it.”
“But between us?” Calder prompted when Grey paused.
The Soul Weaver waved his hand between them. “It’s faded and all tangled.” He paused and then shrugged. “But there is something there.”
“We can’t be soul mates,” Lucien growled. “I think we’d know that.”
Grey barked out a laugh. “What? Like Clay knew Dane was his soul mate? Or Baer with Wiley?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. It’s not like you could sense that Cort was your soul mate.”
Calder barely heard Clay’s comment. He could only stare at Grey, speechless. This couldn’t be happening. The Soul Weaver couldn’t be serious.
Grey shrugged. “You’re definitely something, though I have no fucking clue what.”
Clay grunted. “The fact is, I don’t care what the hell he sees. You need to start talking to each other. Work this out.” He pointed at Lucien and then Calder. “You’re making everyone miserable, and although it’s a big house, it’s not big enough to get away from the constant tension between you two.”
Calder stared at Grey, his gut tightening. There was something between him and Lucien? A tangled, faded ribbon? What the absolute hell could that mean?
Yeah, he was attracted to the man and had been from the beginning, but anyone would be attracted to Lucien. The guy was built like a god, and he had this sexual charisma and confidence about him that melted Calder’s common sense. But to actually sleep with him?
Again, that warm feeling shot through his veins to pool low in his stomach. He glanced at Lucien to find the man watching him, speculation in his brown eyes.
“We want this fixed,” Clay said as he gave each man a pointed stare. “I don’t care how you work it out, but you are going to work it out. Do you understand? We’re stuck with each other until the pestilents are taken care of permanently. After that, you can go your separate ways and never fucking talk again.”
Calder nodded, feeling kind of like a kid facing his dad after wrecking the family car. He was a grown man of twenty-seven, and Clay certainly wasn’t his father. But he was the leader of their group, and he had the chops to pull off that stern lecturer vibe.
Fixing this problem with Lucien was another matter. He had no idea how to go about it. Right then, sex didn’t seem like the answer. In fact, it was the kind of thing that could only make the situation worse.
But what was this connection Grey could see between them? What did it mean?
“Dinner’s ready!” Baer called out as he popped his head into the doorway of the dining room. “Did you get them to kiss and make up yet?”
Lucien made a growling noise in his throat, and Calder couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of kissing and making up. But the image of those soft lips brushing against his popped into his brain, the feel of those strong hands on his body, kneading muscles and pulling him close. A shiver ran down his spine. Damn.
They all stood and made their way into the bright kitchen. Calder picked up a plate and got in line behind Wiley. There was roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and a huge salad. As he filled his plate, he found himself glancing at Lucien often.
Surely they weren’t soul mates. Not with how they rubbed each other the wrong way.
As everyone filed into the dining room with their food, Calder followed and sat next to Baer, hoping to put some much-needed distance between him and Lucien. The redhead gave him a wink before tucking into his roast beef. Wiley sat on the other side of Baer with Clay at the head of the table and his husband, Dane, to his left. Grey sat next to Dane with Cort on his left. Lucien was sort of kitty corner from Calder. He almost sighed, but it was the only open seat for him unless he wanted to demand the guy eat in a totally different room.
Clay smiled at his mate as he picked up his fork and knife. “Is the last room ready for paint yet?”
“Yeah,” Dane answered. “I got the final drywall prepped. The room needs a couple of coats of paint and some minor touch-up; then it’s ready for the last Weaver.”
He gave a short nod. “Lucien, Calder, I’d like you two to paint it tomorrow.”
Lucien scowled at Clay. “So, your answer to this problem is to stick us in the same room for hours at a time?”
“Well, neither of you seemed amenable to my other suggestion.” Clay grinned and placed a bite of beef into his mouth.
