Hanging out with Hal, Rook, Remy, and Colt has been… fun. I feel a little lighter after talking and laughing with them, and it scares the shit out of me. The way my heart skips a beat when any of them smile at me makes me want to hop onto my bike and ride far, far away.
But I can’t just ditch Charlie like that or make a scene by running like a frightened rabbit. So, I sit stiffly on the rock wall and watch Colt and Remy on their bikes.
After what feels like an eternity of me regretting all my life choices, Charlie cups her hands around her mouth and calls, “Jojo! Stop moping and get your cute butt down here.”
I can’t decide whether to roll my eyes or blush, so I do both as I reluctantly walk down to Charlie and the guys. All five of them watch me as I try my hardest not to trip and face-plant on the uneven pathway. Shifters are supposed to be inherently graceful, and I am—until I crash, bump, or trip over something.
When I reach Charlie, I huff at her. “I wasn’t moping.”
She snorts. “Sure, you weren’t. Now that pictures are done, you guys wanna grab a bite together? I know a diner not too far from here. Their burgers and shakes are to die for.”
I give Charlie a death glare. The last thing I need is to spend more time with the four mysterious bikers I seem to seeeverywhere. I know what happens when you fall for someone, and I refuse to go down that road again.
She ignores me and looks expectantly at them.
I’m surprised when Colt’s the one to answer for the group. I would’ve thought Hal or Rook was in charge because they both seem older than the twins. “We’d be down to hit up the diner. We haven’t had dinner yet, so something to eat sounds perfect.”
Charlie looks at me with puppy-dog eyes, knowing how well they work on me. “No” was on the tip of my tongue before she silently started pleading with me.
“I’ll even get a strawberry shake and share it with you,” she coaxes, knowing how much I love combining chocolate and strawberry shakes together. If I could live off ice cream and Alfredo alone, I totally would.
I sigh, accepting there’s no world in which I say no, regardless of what I want. “Yeah, I’ll go.”
I can’t even be peeved at my best friend. She’s only trying to force us together because she thinks it’s what’s best for me. I just wish people would listen to what I want instead of what they think I need. But that probably requires me to be able to speak up for myself.
“Yay!” Charlie squeezes me in a tight hug before grabbing my hand and hauling me over to our bikes. “You guys can follow us, as long as you think you can keep up, that is.”
I let out a chuckle. Everyone besides me has a liter bike, so they can absolutely keep up with me and my 636. Charlie might be able to outmaneuver them on her R1, but I know she’d never leave me behind.
One side of Hal’s mouth kicks up, and his green eyes shine with mirth. “I dunno if we can keep up with Lark. She looks like a speed demon. You might have to give us the address just in case.”
I huff a laugh but can’t keep the smile off my face. Hal grins at me, causing my heart to do a flip in my chest, before striding back to his bike.
CHAPTER 7
ROOK
“Seventeen attacks in the last week?” Eugene asks, his voice rising with disbelief and anger. The middle-aged man with wavy brown hair and beady little brown eyes looks every inch the weasel he is. “You mean to tell me that our territory has been attacked nearly twenty times in a single week?”
Eugene’s shrill voice is worsening the headache brought on by dealing with the Praetorium. While most of our valor’s ruling body is made up of generals who actually know what they’re talking about, the other part is made up of influential members elected by our people.
While I know Azrael wanted to give the people a say, unlike how his father ruled before him, it’s days like these when I regret it. Heavily.
These pompous, old, rich guys sit on their high horses, judging and condemning Azrael’s leadership, when they haven’t had to fight a fae a day in their pitiful existence. They’ve never had to fight for their lives or watch those they care about barely make it out alive. They’ve never known the terror of being so outmatched and overpowered, with no choice but to keep fighting.
“Yes,” Azrael says simply, offering neither explanation nor excuse.
While the elected members of the valor have input, Azrael doesn’t grovel or let them walk over him. At the end of the day, all decisions are still ultimately his—a burden that weighs heavily on him.
Anyone who doesn’t know him might think Azrael is immune to the constant attacks and losses our valor faces. But our flight knows differently. We see Azrael bend and break under the weight of the responsibility and the lives taken too soon and the war we’re losing but can’t do anything other than keep fighting.
“That’s unacceptable!” Milton, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and watery blue eyes, punctuates with a slam of his fist on the oak table that’s older than I am. “What are you doing to keep our people safe?”
Azrael tilts his head, the motion predatory and unnerving. “What are you doing to keep our people safe?”
Milton sputters. “Excuse me?”
“Since you’re so concerned with the safety of the members of this valor,” Azrael asks slowly, enunciating each word like Milton is a child, “then what are you doing to keep all of them safe?”
