Page 44 of Tabitha

TABITHA

By the time I step out of the shower, the silence in the house is absolute. I instantly go on alert, wondering what happened to the guys. I grab my knife and step into the bedroom naked…then stop dead when I spot at least a dozen pieces of underwear on the bed.

Some are just tiny scraps of material, others are lacy little bits, but they all have one thing in common—not one of them looks comfortable.

I lower the tip of my knife, gingerly lifting one delicate piece in the air, then understanding clicks as I recall River’s warning from the previous night.

With a snort of amusement, I bundle the underwear in my arms, look around the room blankly for a moment, then dump the whole pile into a dresser drawer. I’m exasperated, charmed, and a bit bemused by the man.

I’m not even sure how he got ahold of so much on such short notice, but I guess I should just be thankful the underwear is new and not pilfered from some lady’s dirty laundry basket.

I shudder, swallowing hard against my gag reflexes. I dress quickly—in comfortable underwear, thank you very much—and wander through the house in search of the guys. They’re scattered throughout the different rooms, none of them shy about making themselves at home.

Packing boxes.

For some reason, a weird flutter goes through my stomach.

I’m used to working alone, living alone, being alone.

Having people around me, invading my space, has my senses going haywire. I’m not used to people doing things for me, and part of me wonders what they’ll want in return.

I wander aimlessly for a few minutes, watching them suspiciously. Gage is on the main floor, wearing a constipated look on his face whenever he sees me. I’m distracted when River catches sight of me, then both he and Rocky follow me around like eager puppies—one trying to steal treats while the other keeps touching me at any opportunity.

Whenever I venture into another room, he follows, holding out items at random and asking me if I want to keep them or not.

Only to do it again a minute later with another item.

Pierce sits in front of the computer at the dining room table, watching the feeds and organizing the men. He’s harder to understand than the others, always quiet and watching my every move. I used to find it annoying, but there is a sort of comfort in it now.

Bast keeps his distance, wearing an amused expression as he systematically clears his room, going from right to left. He’s very efficient, no wasted movements as he packs one box after another.

I pick one of the thirty rooms, haul in a bunch of packing supplies, and begin working.

It’s not long before the rest of the guys migrate from their rooms and join me. I furtively watch them, but they seem content to just pack. The soldiers work without speaking, silently handing off supplies like they’ve been working together for years.

They’re comfortable with each other.

It’s enough for me to wonder what it would be like to actually be that close to another person. To have someone cover your back. A few of the other Belladonnas have that connection, but I’ve always felt like the odd one out. They would try to include me, but my paranoia just won’t allow me that extra leap of faith.

From my experience, humans have less loyalty than most animals.

If given a chance, they will turn on each other in a heartbeat.

But these guys are different.

They seem to trust each other without question.

A yearning to have that is like a stab to the chest.

It’s stupid.

It’s impractical.

It will most likely get me killed, but I still want it.

I study the guys, wondering how they instilled such loyalty in each other. It’s like trying to decipher a foreign language, and I shake my head at my own foolishness.

I seal the packed box, but before I can bend to pick it up, Bast scoops it up in his massive arms without a word, turns on his heel, and leaves the room. I’m gazing after him when Gage straightens and turns toward me.

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