Page 95 of When Shadows Dream: Shadow Hounds

“Pretty sure of yourself, huh, Athon?” she tried to sass back. Striving for unaffected aloofness, and failing woefully.

“Are you guys coming in here anytime soon? Or would you rather stand out there naked, in the cold until Roth gets back.” Nithe’s voice echoed off the tiled walls with amusement.

Chapter 41

Nithe’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt for the umpteenth time. Why the fuck wouldn’t they just go in the damn holes, for fuck’s sake? The tension in his shoulders was threatening one hell of a headache, but he knew it wasn’t all his. Jezzie was next door, getting ready for the inevitable meeting, and her anxiety was thrumming along the bond straight into his already tense body.

Before they’d all split up to get ready—an idea he hadn’t been very fond of—Roth had returned, but he hadn’t joined them in the shower like he’d promised. His still damp hair indicated he’d done so elsewhere, but the almost palpable energy of a caged wildcat which radiated off of him had put everyone off-kilter. Jezzie’s hurt expression lingered in his mind even now. Some of her hurt and confusion wove through the anxious feelings she was subconsciously sending out. He wondered if the others also felt it, and if they knew the emotions belonged to Jezzie.

A button yet again slipped from his fingers, this time popping free of its thread and pinging against the mirror in front of him. Fuck this shit. Why was he even dressing up for this anyway? If the assholes didn’t like him as he was then fuck them. He ripped the cloth from his body as though the fine material had personally offended him and tossed it to the floor.

His hand went to the bond-mark on the right side of his neck, his fingers tracing the imprint of her teeth which marked him as hers. Nithe’s breath left his lungs all at once as he felt the echo of Jezzie’s pleasurable shudder ripple through his body, and the gasp that left her lips like a caress against his skin, despite the solid wall between them.

Grabbing his favorite shirt from the end of what was apparently his bed, he threw it on and moved swiftly to Jezzie’s door. He hesitated before knocking, the soft murmur of her words drifting to him through the stupid barrier.

“Pull yourself together, Jezebeth. You knew this day would come. You can do this. We’ll figure out what crawled up Roth’s ass later and put together an extraction plan. But right now you’ve got bigger fish to fry, and there’s no way in, well, this place, you’re going to fall to pieces. You’ve faced scarier shit than this before. Yeah, so what if they hate you? Not like they aren’t best friends with two of your . . . Lovers? Mates? Husbands? No, not husbands. How human of me. But wouldn’t that be nice? Jesus, Jezzie. Now you're just rambling to yourself like a nut job. Fucking hell.”

Nithe silently chuckled as he practically felt her facepalm.

I know you’re there, Nithe. Come join my pathetic misery, Jezzie said through their link. Her soft chuckle bordered on manic. His female’s mind was going in circles. Something had to be done. A grin lit his features, taking away the worry lines on his brow.

Without warning he raced into the room and picked Jezzie up. He spun her around, her feet flying through the air as she giggled like a carefree lass on a sunny spring day. His lips nibbled at the side of her neck, but it must have tickled as she shrieked and cackled, struggling to shift away. His perfect little witch . . . vampitch? . . . vampitchel? Hmm, maybe he should trademark it.

“Seriously, Ni? Vampitchel?” Jezzie snorted amid a fresh round of giggles. “Gosh, I love you.”

“Anything for my lady. Tell me what’s wrong, a stór.”

His warm breath fluttered over the shell of her ear, and he was rewarded with a breathless moan. All at once he realized she was only wearing a bra and panties. It was his turn to groan. He loved it when she didn’t wear matching sets. She did sometimes, but when she didn’t, he knew she was comfortable, happy with her body, and she wasn’t trying to impress him. She was just Jezzie. His Jezzie.

“Where to start, Ni? I’m going to meet daddy dearest, we have to explain everything that’s happened, including our relationship and the whole mate thing. Roth’s been acting weird ever since he came back from whatever the hell he went to do. What if they kick us out? What if he rejects me? What if the guys choose to stay rather than come with us? Or worse, they hate us, me, for not telling them the truth sooner?”

“Jez, my love, it’s been three days. Nobody can expect to know another being’s secrets in three days. Those days were about getting to know if you could trust them. Plus, the whole you couldn’t tell them thing Leraie put in place kinda stopped you anyway. As to what’s going to happen when we get to this meeting . . . I can’t see the future, but if he doesn’t fall at your feet and love you for the amazing person you are, then the male’s a fool. Angel or not. I’ll gladly follow wherever you go, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.” His lips found hers in a kiss filled with every ounce of love, passion, and trust he felt for her. Each feeling held equal weight, as trust wasn’t something he gave lightly.

“Thank you, mo shíorghrá. You always know what to say.” She winked, then bit her bottom lip. “Should I wear a dress, do you think?” She looked so unsure. This whole situation meant more to her than he could comprehend, given his own feelings for his supposed sire being what they were.

“Just be you, Jez. If you want to wear a dress, wear one. Just be comfortable in whatever makes you feel most like you.”

He turned her to face the wardrobe and gave her a gentle shove toward it. After a particularly deep breath and a large sigh, Jezzie donned her nicest pair of supple, dark-brown leather training pants—which hugged her ass in just the right way. A fitted cream peasant shirt with bell sleeves, matching leather boots, and braces for her forearms followed.

“Just in case,” she whispered, as if to herself.

From the jewelry box on her dresser she pulled a small silver locket, and as she faced him, holding it reverently, he saw tears well in her eyes.

“Thank you, Leraie.” Her gaze on the ceiling.

Nithe swore he heard Leraie reply with a softly spoken, “You’re welcome.”

He helped fasten the chain at the back of her neck, and together they made their way out to the common area. Roth barely glanced up as they entered the room, and Jezzie stumbled to an awkward stop, unsure of his emotions.

“Jezzie, what is he feeling? Can you read him?” His concern and curiosity needled at him.

“Not clearly. So many emotions are swirling around and the taste is bitter and acrid, like buried pain and tortured choices. He’s blocking me. He learned fast. I just want to hold him and take it all away, but he’s put up a shield, so I can’t even siphon some of it off, nor can I feed him any positive replacements or reassurances. What happened, Ni?”

“I wish I knew, a stór. We’ll figure it out like you said, after the meeting. It’ll all work out, I’m sure.”

Athon joined them soon after. A forced joviality to his persona.

“Ready to go guys? It’s all going to be fine, Jez. I promise, they’re not that bad. Luc’s actually a big teddy bear, really he is.” Roth snorted from his perch on the sofa. “Well, unless you piss him off like Roth did. But I don’t think anyone can piss him off like Roth can.” Athon’s laugh filled the air and Nithe felt Jezzie relax beside him.

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