“They were… happy,” he says wonderingly. “For us.”
Smiling, I add my packages to the back seat. “Maybe we’re not the only ones scared of telling people who we really are, Gray. Maybe it only takes a voice to speak out.”
I’m not kidding myself that everyone will be like that. But that’s humanity. We’ll focus on the good, and fuck the bad.
Meanwhile, we’ve got more than enough to hopefully tempt our Bonded.
42
SIENNA
My temper flares the longer I sit on my bed, staring at the sneaky little door that apparently leads to my nest.
Morons. Absolute morons.
And sure, maybe they’re doing their best to make it up to me, but damn it, I’m allowed to have a little moment over the fact that a perfectly functional nest space has been here thisentire fucking time.
With a final disgruntled sniff, I shuffle off the bed and pad over to the door. The knob opens smoothly under my grip, and I step inside.
Pursing my lips, I look around.
Well.
This is… nice. More than nice, if I’m being honest. And that only irritates me more.
Because this nest is everything I would have chosen for myself.
Two steps in front of me lead down into a sunken space. It’s split, with rustic wooden floorboards covering one half, shelving and various little cupboards built into the walls for storage. The other half is a giant, soft-looking mattress. The walls are painted a soft cream, matching the rest of the house, and there’s paneling across the walls that bounces under my fingertips. Soundproof.
I swallow. Well, there’s more than enough room for all of us. If I ever forgive them enough to invite them in, that is.
Slipping off my shoes, I venture onto the mattress, bouncing lightly and then collapsing down into a heap, spreading my arms and legs out to make a nest angel.
This is officially the most comfortable thing I have ever laid on. Is it made of feathers? Cloud? The hair of baby angels?
I don’t know, but it’s more of a struggle than I’d like to admit to get up and go back into my room. When I pull my door open, Tristan is setting down the last of the boxes outside.
“Can I help you carry these in?” he asks, standing upright.
Crossing my arms, I lift my nose in the air. “No, thank you. No traitors beyond this point.”
His brows dip. “Bonded.”
“Oh, no,” I warn as he takes a step towards me. “No pulling that dark-eyed look on me, Tristan. I am really pissed off with you.”
“I know,” he says, stopping and crossing his arms. “And we deserve every bit of it. What dark-eyed look?”
I refuse to blush. “You know. That look. Where you look all angry and growly.”
He raises one eyebrow. “And… you like that?”
Why do I suddenly feel like this conversation has flipped on its head?
“This isn’t about me,” I sputter. “This is about you.”
Tristan smiles slowly. “Oh, I disagree.”
I take a step back, plastering myself against the wall as he stalks closer. He stops a hair's-breadth from my mouth. “This is very much about you, Bonded,” he breathes. “And how we can make it up to you.”
