Jericho paused in mid-reach and turned his head to look at her. “Is that all?”
“Too much of it makes people puke?” Sally said, though it came out like a question.
Jericho shook his head and continued to pull down different bottles. “Wow, this is going to be a loooong day. The only saving grace is that you’re hot and I get to watch you mix drinks.”
Sally frowned at him. “Mixing drinks is considered hot?”
“It is when it’s a chick and she’s shaking a mixer causing all kinds of bouncing and jiggling in all the right places,” he answered with a roguish grin.
Sally didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead she picked up the laminated sheets and examined the drinks listed there. She thought maybe that the best way to discourage Jericho’s flirting would be not to acknowledge it at all.
“Let’s just start with the basics,” Jericho began. He held up a bottle with clear liquid in it. “This is vodka. It’s a hard liquor.”
Sally leaned back against the counter and prepared herself for a long afternoon of information overload.
Costin stood under the nearly unbearably hot water. It scalded his skin and he relished the pain. Physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil that was raging inside of him. He was trying to hold it together, for fear of Decebel being true to his word and for the hope of Sally coming back, but he felt as though his sanity was slowly slipping away from him. The darkness that she’d kept at bay for so long was returning. He’d almost forgotten what it was like living with the darkness as a constant companion—always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to wrest control from the man. He hadn’t missed the feeling. Sally’s absence had left a void that the darkness was all too happy to fill, and he honestly didn’t know how long he could hold himself together. It had been a little over forty-eight hours since they’d realized she was missing, and if it wasn’t for Titus, Costin would have been a raging lunatic by now.
And if the man was bad, his wolf was even worse. The beast paced inside of him, yearning to be set free. But Costin knew that he couldn’t allow the wolf out, not right now. If he gave his beast even a little bit of freedom, it would take over completely. Costin had overheard the others talking about Drake and he knew that the situation was dire. The last thing the pack needed was another feral wolf to deal with.
With a heavy sigh, he shut off the water. Though he didn’t want to leave the quiet space, Titus needed him. Gavril had been generous enough to keep an eye on him while Costin took some time to deal with his emotions, but Gavril wasn’t the boy’s father. Costin was, and he needed to be the one caring for him.
Costin dried off and dressed quickly. For perhaps the hundredth time since Sally went missing, Costin glanced in the mirror to make sure that his mating marks were still there before putting his shirt on. Nothing had changed. The marks that had climbed up his neck when Sally had come of age were still there. So where was she? Why couldn’t he feel her? And how in seven hells was he supposed to find her if he couldn’t feel her through the bond? With a growl, he threw on his shirt and stormed out of the bathroom.
Those were questions that weren’t going to be answered by him wallowing in his sorrow and rage. He went to the playroom that Jen had insisted Decebel put together for Thia—a jungle gym of toddler play equipment and toys which, of course, the tiny infant couldn’t even yet play with. When he reached the room, he took a deep breath before entering. He plastered a smile on his face and then stepped through the door.
Titus was sitting on the floor playing with the large blocks that looked like Legos. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to his construction. Then again, he was three. What did Costin expect?
“How’s it going in here?” he asked as he glanced over to the chair where Gavril sat.
“He’s been great,” Gavril said in that deep voice of his. “Been playing with those blocks since we got here.”
“Are you having fun, Titus?”
The little boy looked up at him and smiled, causing Costin’s chest to ache. Titus had been through so very much in his short little life, and he’d somehow come out of it. Wounded, yes, but not broken.
“Mr. Gavril said I could build anything I wanted. But right now all I know how to build is buildings.”
Costin grinned. So that’s what the stacks of blocks were—buildings. “You’ll get better and better the more you do it,” he encouraged him. He glanced at his watch and realized that they’d nearly missed lunch time.
“Are you hungry?”
Titus nodded. “I’m always hungry.”
Gavril and Costin chuckled. He was a growing boy with a dormant wolf inside of him; of course, he was always hungry.
Costin helped him put the blocks away and then told Gavril thank you. Titus gave the large man a hug and then followed Costin from the room.
Two hours later, a very tired Titus climbed up into his bed without any protest to take a nap. Costin watched as the little boy drifted off quickly to sleep. Costin envied him. His own sleep was fraught with nightmares of all the things that could be happening to his mate. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, he heard her voice, and he felt her touch. But every time he opened his eyes, she was gone.
He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his phone as he stepped out of Titus’ room and into his own. Costin dialed Wadim’s number and waited for the historian to answer.
“Hello?”
“Anything?” Costin asked without preamble.
“Nothing yet. Jen and Decebel are on their way over and they’re going to help me search for anything that might give us a clue as to what could have happened. Hang in there, Costin. We’re going to find her.”
Costin appreciated his friend’s words, but at the same time he wanted to roar that he shouldn’t have to hang in there because his mate shouldn’t be lost.
