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Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m vaguely aware of being lifted from the car and carried into bed, but I don’t fully awaken. Sometime in the night I think the covers are rearranged around me with a gentle kiss on my forehead.
When I wake, there’s a glass of orange juice on the bedside table, the condensation on the glass telling me it’s fresh and cold. I drink it gratefully, as I wonder if it was Rowan who stayed over last night once we got back.
Thinking of Rowan makes me blush. After trying to convince myself that the fated mates bond with the three of us is all bullshit, I had the strangest dream. It may have involved twin sandwiches. And not the coronation chicken kind, which let’s face it, up until I discovered a fae sandwich, was clearly the king of all sandwiches.
The house is strangely quiet, and I wonder what time it is. My limbs have that heaviness that only comes after the truly magnificent sleep of the dead. I check my phone and see that it’s late afternoon and blink in surprise. It can’t be that late, surely? Jesus, what did I drink last night? I doubt one glass of champagne and a couple of cokes would be enough to make me sleep for more than 16 hours. What the hell?
I pull on my dressing gown, pocket my phone, and head downstairs, worried that poor Jasper will have his little paws crossed, desperate to go out. But when I get to the kitchen he’s not there.
“C’mere Pupdog!” My call is met with an eerie kind of silence. “Jasper?” Nothing.
I look around for a note, wondering if one of the guys took him out for a walk, but I don’t see one.
Sometimes you just have to listen to your gut. And right now mine is screaming at me. Something isn’t right.
I grab my phone and hit the video call button on the group chat. It takes a moment for the call to connect, but when it does, all four guys are grinning at me.
“Morning—I mean afternoon—beautiful.” Rowan beams at me.
“Ah, sleeping beauty finally awakes.” Linden smirks.
“I take it last night was good then?” Ash asks with a wink.
“You broke your promise. You owe me,” Oakley growls, and despite my worry, I shiver.
“Guys, which of you took Jasper with you this morning?”
“Not me.”
“Nope.”
“I haven’t been over.”
“Me either.”
“Well—” I frown “—which of you stayed last night?”
“I thought Rowan did?”
“No, I thought Oakley was?”
“I didn’t.”
“I was called away on an emergency shout out otherwise I would have,” Ash says. He’s frowning slightly now too, sensing that something’s wrong.
“So who tucked me in last night, kissed me, and got me freshly squeezed orange juice this morning? Or afternoon I should say.”
For a second no-one moves, to the point that I worry that the chat has frozen, but just as I’m about to ask if anyone is there, the screen bursts into life again.
“Fuck!”
“Jasmine, stay put! We’re coming over.”
“Who can get there fastest?”
“Me.”
