“Hey!” Fred came from down the hall, the sound of a toilet flushing behind her. Her green and pink hair was spiked with gel, standing up at all angles. She wore a green and pink pant suit, the fashion choices somewhat matching Ulric’s usual blue and pink. She flashed a toothy grin. “Good to see you! I have?—“
She stopped at the door and turned, standing in the way of Tristan coming in with three bags of groceries.
“Oh. Hello. What’ve you got there?” She stood on her tiptoes to peer into the bags. “Chores? I’ll help!”
She shouldered past him and hurried down the steps.
Tristan’s brow furrowed in confused humor. “That woman couldn’t fit in better if she tried,” he said, pausing inside. “And I really hope she doesn’t try.”
Nessa laughed as she passed him, reaching out to run her fingers along the underside of his suede-soft wings. He tensed before shivering, his eyes sparking lust.
“Are those wings sensitive, Mr. Monster?” she taunted.
Most gargoyles didn’t feel anything particularly exciting when their wings were touched, whether in human form or gargoyle. The wings were somewhat smooth to the feel, like leather, but apparently affected them no differently than if someone ran fingertips over their ankle.
Not so with Tristan. His mysterious heritage had affected his wings differently. Touching them gave him an almost arousing sensation, a pleasure not as strong as his genitals, but certainly lust inducing.
He turned to watch her, his eyes bright with desire. She was playing with fire, she knew that, but sometimes it was fun to dance in the flames.
“There are steps here,” Sebastian said as he and Fred finished loading grocery bags into the wagon. “And we have a lot more people than just the two of us. It probably would’ve been easier to let everyone help.”
“Weareletting everyone help.” Nessa grabbed the wagon’s handle, and Fred grabbed two more bags from the back of the Jeep. “Austin can grab the last three bags, and you can help me lift the wagon onto the porch.”
“Here, I can take that,” Austin said, pulling the wagon toward the porch.
Tristan met him there, lifting the wagon by himself. He carried the whole thing into the house, turning sideways to get it through the door.
Austin met her at the back of the Jeep and grabbed the three remaining bags.
“In the end,” he said, “you ended up doing almost nothing. Great work.”
“I supervised.” She brushed her hands as though to rid them of loose dirt. “Work smarter, not harder.”
He chuckled and she checked the Jeep to make sure they’d gotten everything.
“Many hands make light work,” Fred said with one bag, now heading towards the house.
Sebastian took Nessa’s hand as they followed the others.
“I’m happy here,” he said. “We might be besieged with mages tomorrow after word gets out that I am here, but I still wouldn’t regret being here with them. I won’t leave them again, despite what might come.”
His words sapped her humor. It was her job to make sure that didn’t happen.
Jessie
Austin setthe bags of groceries on the counter as Tristan unloaded the wagon.
“I feel like I should be helping,” I said wistfully. I’d tried, but Austin wouldn’t have it. “I sit around doing nothing while Mr. Tom runs the kitchen, but he’s not worth arguing with.”
“Neither are Austin and Natasha, trust me.” Tristan winked at me. “Do you guys need help squaring this away, or will I be in the way?”
“In the way,” Nessa quipped. “This kitchen is much too small for this many enormous guys.”
“There are two of us,” Austin replied.
“Exactly. Get out.” She started shoving at him. Tristan was already vacating. “I think better when my hands are busy. I’ll let you back in when everything is organized.”
“Idle hands are a devil’s playground,” Fred murmured from her seat beside me. Tilting her head, she squinted. “I’m not sure if that’s the right saying.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Nessa—am I to call you Nessa or Natasha? Natasha is a very pretty name,and it fits you very well when Tristan No-Last-Name says it, but not so much whenIsay it. It’s almost like hearing a balloon deflating.”
