Something clicks at that moment.
“How exactly did you hear about the Slayer’s presence?” I ask Sebastian.
“That, of course, is private information,” Sebastian replies.
Conner.
When I get my hands on that lying fuck, I’m going to chain him to a pole and watch as the sunrise licks at his feet, turning him to ash.
My grip on Ember must be too tight as she whispers.
“I’m tired.”
Her green eyes meet mine, and I wish I could understand what she was trying to convey.
“Samantha, why don’t you get everyone another round while I get Ember settled and we will discuss our plans further?”
Sebastian nods, and none of them question me as I usher Ember out of the room and up the stairs. We head to her room and as soon as the door is shut she looks at me, waving her hands in a haphazard sort of way.
Anything we say could be heard downstairs and I lick my lips, going to her nightstand and grabbing a pen and paper.
Grab the raccoon and anything else you need, you’re moving to my room and you’ll ward it.
Her brows furrow as she grabs the pen from my hand.
I can’t stay here!!! They all looked like they wanted to kill me.
The exclamation points are excessive, I think as I take the pen from her.
I will keep you safe.There is no other option. You will be safe as soon as we ward the bedroom.
She looks pissed off, and it might be the most beautiful she’s ever looked as her cheeks redden and her breasts bounce as she snatches the pen out of my hand.
I’m not your fuckingpet.
The underlining of the word pet issuperfluous, yet cute. There’s no way I’d let her leave this house with the Slayer outhere, and there’s absolutely no way that I’d let her out of my sight with the council here either.
Instead of communicating via scribbled messages, I just stare at her, hoping that my gaze tells her everything that she needs to know.
There’s no arguing the matter, not when they can hear.
A slight growling noise slips from her throat as she grabs her raccoon like an oversized infant in her arms.
“Have one of your goons move my shit,” she says, not caring if the council can hear or not.
There’s a chance they are chatting amongst themselves and not paying attention to the rest of the house, but either way, they can’t suspect she speaks to me like that.
“Go to our room and do as you’re told, pet,” I tell her, her eyes narrowing as she finally makes her way to my—our—bedroom.
The thought of her being in my chambers has me softening up to the council ever so slightly, forcing our hand in the matter.
I grab as many of her belongings as I can carry and follow her to the room.
She places her familiar on the lounge chair in the corner and I place her things near the closet door.
I pull the pen and paper from earlier out of my pocket.
A sound proofing spell? I’m assuming your warding of the bedroom is still intact?
