Page 38 of Blue Embers
Shaking my head, I went through every shirt I had until I found one on the back of the rack that I forgot I owned. It was a blue, knit top with long sleeves and button-up “V” neck. On the breast pocket was a little print of a cartoon capricorn that Artemis had gotten for me on my twenty-fifth birthday. I’d only worn it once, but today seemed like the day to wear it again. I brushed the capricorn with my fingers, smiling a little at the ridiculous manner in which Artemis had given me the shirt. She’d worn a matching one with her astrological sign on the pocket. A Pisces.
Taking the shirt off it’s hanger, I changed out of my night attire and into the blouse, throwing on a pair of dark, fitted jeans and my most comfortable ankle boots. Walking out into the living room, Killian was waiting patiently. Even after a night’s sleep, the man looked as suave and ready as he did the day before. Even his morning shadow was a sleek, perfectly shaped darkness that accentuated his facial features.
“Saxon is a bit anxious to leave the city,” Killian said. “We should go and hear what he has to say. Malisa will have food ready when we get there if you’re hungry.”
I nodded, internally nervous over the anticipation of what Saxon had learned from the situation the day before. Taking a calming breath, I grabbed my belongings and headed for the door. On the way, Killian watched me closely. It felt odd to know he had any concern over me at all. I had my day of tears, panic, and grieving. Now, I needed to get through it all and just find solutions. Ways to fix what I could so I could push on.
I took Artemis’s car, despite the feeling I was getting that Killian wanted me to ride with him. Again, I knew it was just because he was worried. Internally, I knew I needed to start handling things on my own. I was already sick of feeling needy.
“I’ll meet you there,” I said, giving him no time to argue as I ducked into the car.
I watched Killian walk to his Bugatti in my side mirror. That handsome, sophisticated sway in his long-legged stride making me doubt the man was capable of such kindness. It was a walk that would get any woman on her knees. A big part of me couldn’t understand why he troubled himself over me. He needed information from my sister, of course, but he didn’t need to escort me home, sleep in my bed, and do any of the things he was doing to get that information...yet he was. An even bigger part of me was consumed by a longing that Ireallydidn’t want to give in to. I’d been enamored by Draak my whole life, but there had always been an underlying bitterness surrounding my opinions about them as well, considering my sister was abandoned by one.
“Shut up, Seph,” I muttered to myself, turning the key in the ignition as Killian pulled out of the driveway behind me.
The man who had marked Artemis didn’t abandon her. I hated thinking that, but I also hated that I’d lost her. The mysterious Draak saved us when it really came down to it. Hopeful that going to Killian’s place and speaking with Saxon would answer some questions, I pulled out onto the street and started following Killian to his home just outside the city.
When we arrived at the beach house, both Saxon’s truck and Malice’s bike were parked out front. On the open back of Saxon’s truck sat the massive Ash Bringer himself, one foot on the ground while his other leg sat bent and relaxed atop the truck’s back gate. Killian pulled into his carport and I parked behind Saxon, eyeing the intimidating tower of muscle in a new light. I hadn’t really absorbed him the day before in my stress. Seeing him now, he looked less human than any of them, his red eyes vivid even in the brightness of the daylight.
Stepping out of my car, Saxon’s gaze drifted my way. He stood from his truck, his body towering and solid. The sleeves of his worn shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing an array of deep red and black tattoos in tribal designs. The man definitely wasn’t city material and it didn’t appear that he wanted to be. Even staying inside to wait for Killian and me seemed too large a task.
“How are you doing?” Saxon asked, his voice deep and unexpectedly calming.
“Fine,” I nodded, though that word had never felt so bitter.
I was taken aback by Saxon’s concern. I barely knew the guy, but I was aware, on the other hand, that Ash Bringers felt things deeply when they read thoughts. He’d read something in that witch’s head about Artemis. I was eager to know what it was and walked toward the house, meeting Killian at the door.
The three of us walked into the manor to the aroma of pancakes and maple syrup as well as Malice’s rolling Scottish accent having a playful argument with Malisa’s French insults. Rounding the corner, I caught the large, blonde Draak sitting at the table with a stack of a dozen pancakes on a plate in front of him. Malisa complained in French, likely about trying to keep up with the man’s monstrous appetite while she cooked more food. I almost laughed. Almost, but instead I just smiled, amused by the feisty interaction between the two foreigners.
“They’ve been going at it all morning,” Saxon said, walking past me to take a seat at the table.
“Have something to eat,” Killian said to me. “I’m going to go change.”
As he left, I stepped toward the kitchen counter where I zeroed in on a fresh pot of coffee. I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup of the steaming, rich caffeine and took it to the end seat at the table. Saxon was eating a plate of scrambled eggs while Malisa placed two new pancakes on a plate next to him, glaring at Malice as if she was going to bite his hand if he reached for them. Malice shot her a wink and drizzled more syrup on his already drenched breakfast.
Looking at the man, I started to get a better idea of who he was as well. Judging by his appearance, I guessed he outdated the Draak who’d arrived in the second wave. Glimpsing the silver torc around his neck, I assumed he was of Viking lineage. My history-obsessed self was instantly fascinated, but questions about his origins would come later. At the moment, my head was too wrapped around my sister and all the chaos that happened at the hospital. I grabbed a piece of bacon from a plate in the center of the table and started chewing on it, staring blankly as my thoughts started to spiral again.
Circling around the table toward me, Malisa had prepared a small plate with buttery, toasted english muffins and two over-easy eggs. I glanced up at her, snapping out of my mild trance to see her smiling down at me, one hand gently resting on my shoulder.
“You do not strike me as one who likes sweets,” she said.
I raised my brows with a smile. “Thank you,” I said. “Actually this looks perfect. I appreciate it.”
“How are you doing?” she asked, a motherly concern in her aged voice.
“I’m ok,” I nodded, hoping the more times I said it the more it would become true.
“This place is filled with testosterone and a lack of manners.” She eyed Malice, who was stuffing his mouth with food. “Ladies like us must support each other. Eat. You need the nourishment.”
Malisa slapped Malice’s head as she passed, a gesture the Draak barely noticed, and continued what she was doing. Once Killian had returned, Malisa had a cup of black coffee ready for him. He took a seat across from me, now dressed in a simple, white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. All of us ate our fill and though I finished slowly, I managed to consume everything Malisa had prepared for me. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew I needed the meal. Once we were finished, Killian poured himself another cup of coffee and started toward the sitting room.
“Shall we?” he said, focusing his eyes on Saxon.
The rest of us followed while Malisa started cleaning up the table, humming a calm tune as she did. In the sitting room, Malice sat himself down across half of the couch, one leg up as he lounged against the sofa’s arm. Setting his coffee on the small table, Killian sighed, resting his hands low on his hips. Saxon stayed near the wall of the glass fireplace, leaned up against it with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He and Killian exchanged a glance as if speaking wordlessly to one another before the discussion began. Then, Saxon’s eyes drifted to me, like he was reminding me to breathe for the next few moments as things were likely to get emotional.
“Can I ask something actually?” I said, delaying the part of the conversation that might elicit some unwanted tears. “The woman in the parking lot yesterday,” I said. “Where is she?”
“Dealt with,” Saxon assured.
