Another quick burst of laughter comes across the bond and though I’m not sure it’s the same person, I wonder why it made one of my men laugh. I knock back another swig of the sparkle juice and my limbs relax even more. Rolling my head to one side, I look at the equipment on the outer wall side of the room. A swing, a small St Andrews, and a luxe looking bench/chair—nothing I haven’t seen or used before.
“This isn’t so bad,” I sigh as I turn to look at the inner wall. There’s an enclosed yet somehow see-through shelving thing with a fuck ton of toys, a rack of various restraints, and an armoire that I assume has clothing in it. “None of this is a hard limit, thank fuck. If he had things that creeped me out, this would besomuch harder.”
I don’t have a lot on my ‘no-no’ list, but what is there isnotup for debate.
There’s a knock on the door and Rev clears his throat as he says, “Sparkles, even the bloodsucker doesn’t allow the things in your head right now. He says it’s not hygienic.”
His words make my brain spin a little and I giggle. “He lets people drink blood and fuck everywhere. How is that stuff less hygienic than biohazards?”
“Because while I do not judge those who indulge in certain kinks, I also have the right to set boundaries that make me comfortable in my club,” Dezi says in a voice that is full of suppressed laughter. “They can visit the Devil’s Playpen for that sort of thing. The Lenoir family runs several niche clubs that cater to the things I do not wish to host.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I let the swirly things in my head flow through me. The stupid fairy alcohol was actually a pretty good plan because I’m feeling a lot less tense already. It’s taking the edge off of all the stressful thoughts about having some big future where I’m responsible for the world or figuring out how I’m going to trust these guys not to fuck me over like everyone but Feray has. In fact, I’m not even worried about how much stupid shit Revelin is going to spend money on or how ridiculous I feel rocking up with these damn rich dudes pampering me.
The inner Fiadh who fuels so much of my anger and fury is blissfully quiet—I don’t know if that’s happened since our parents died.
“Knuckles, are you okay in there?” Tier’s voice is cautious, like he’s worried I’ll bite his face off for asking.
That makes me frown because he’s easily the nicest, most accommodating man I’ve ever met. He doesn’t expect me to be anyone but me and has learned how to make me feel safe without making me feel smothered. I don’t want him to think I don’t care about him; he shouldn’t be afraid of asking me a question. At least, not something like that… it’s not like asking me to stay behind in the car or some bullshit.
Licking my lips, I focus a little so I can answer. “I’m a wee bit smashed, but I’m okay, kitty cat.”
There’s a garbled discussion on the outside of the door that I scrunch my face until the sharper shifter hearing kicks in.
“… she grabbed something from your liquor cabinet…”Tiernan.
“Shit. Do you know what? That thing is filled with…”Revelin.
“Man, do you have illegal shit in here?! Look at this haul!”Khol.
“Don’t be ridiculous, snakelet… laws…. different…”Dezi.
Oh, they’re worried now. Tee hee.
Ignoring them, I knock back another gulp of the magic drink with a big grin. I’m enjoying the lack of shit weighing on me, even if I might be imbibing something highly forbidden. I’ve been carrying an enormous load on my shoulders for so long I forgot how to put it down. No one forced me to do that, but I knew my sister and I needed someone to be jaded so the other could be free of all the bad shit. Being older by a few minutes—at least, that’s what they told us—made me the best candidate.
I made sure the whole burial ritual happened. All the bullies dealt with me. I got our housing settled along with jobs when we had to sell the house to cover things. I made sure we budgeted and occasionally had enough for some fun. I kept the bad folks away and let Feray keep all her daydreams and romantic notions because I was the realist.
Plus, I beat the shit out of anyone who dared to hurt my sister… gladly.
But maybe… maybe that left me with so little time left for me that I didn’t live beyond the adrenaline of bar fights and fucking. I’m so rigid and defensive that I have people I mated with that I’m worried about abandoning me. Fiadh Morgenstern never let herself dream about meeting one, much less four, people who gave a rat’s ass about her for more than a hump and a wave. I’m not equipped to deal with this.
“Witchling, we’re going to open this door. You’re talking to yourself out loud and the conversation concerns your feline.”
I… what? Oh, shit.
The door opens slowly, revealing Tiernan changed into his relaxed gray sweats and a tight black tee that makes him look delicious. I blink as he comes in slowly, followed by equally dressed down Rev and Khol. My mouth drops open when Dezi follows, shutting the door to this weird ass den of inequity behind him—also changed into sweats.
“You… all… match?” I frown again, studying the matching pants but vastly different shirts. There’s a sliced up old band tee for my rockstar, an armless punk rock looking thing for the basilisk, and a tight, expensive looking compression thing on the vampire that shows off a body built by fucking Michaelangelo. “Holy fuck waffles.”
Tiernan snorts as he comes over to the bed, sitting down at the edge. “Knuckles, you’re high as a fucking kite, babe.”
I am? Yeah, I definitely am.
“So? I’m an adult. I’m allowed to drink away my problems.” I give him a dirty look as I cross my arms over my chest. “None of you fuckers can stop me.”
Revelin gives me a brilliant smile as he walks around the other side of the immense bed and climbs on. “Maybe we don’t want to? You are pretty hilarious when you have no idea you’re talking out loud.”
“Mmm. But also stupidly wrong,” Dezi offers. “You were spouting a load of factually inaccurate tripe, too.”
