“He got some.”
Mated less than a day, and he’ll be dead before we make it to the end of breakfast if he doesn’t shut up.
“Shh, I’ll explain later.”
“But I want to know?—”
“Do your warriors make jokes and fun of each other?”
Cian nodded. “They do, but not in the hall.”
“Those two assholes are being just that…assholes.” He leaned back so the servant could put a bowl of the oatmeal-like mix in front of him, and he took the hunk of crusty bread still warm from the oven that Cian handed him. “Thank you.” Cian’s thigh pressed against his under the table, and Reaper had to fight the urge to lean into him, because there was no chance the two hooligans he called his brothers would miss the opportunity it provided to tease the crap out of him.
Zero tore off a chunk of bread with his teeth, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “So, Cian.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “You planning on dragging your boy back through the Fianna door with you when we head out?”
Reaper stiffened; he’d put the fact that they had to return to their own dimension and what would happen out of his mind.
Cian growled and reached under the table to thread their fingers together. “Where my Grá Croí goes, I go.”
Zero held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, big guy. I’m not gonna make you stay behind. That shit ain’t my call.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But seriously, Rodriguez, is he coming with us?”
Reaper’s thumb traced slow circles over the back of Cian’s hand. “He’s coming with me,” he said, “but only if he wants to.” He turned his head slightly, meeting Cian’s gaze.
Before Cian could respond, though, Fionn came through the servant’s entrance behind them, with one of the older Fianna warriors. “But he needs my permission to go. His gaze settled on him and Cian with an intensity that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. “Do you wish to go with him, Hound?”
“Where my Grá Croí goes, I go,” Cian repeated. “With your permission, of course, mo Rhí.” His fingers tightened around Reaper’s for the briefest second before relaxing, the bond between them flared warm and approving along Reaper’s skin. He ignored the way his pulse jumped in response, the way his breath hitched just slightly. This wasn’t the time to unravel whatever the hell that was.
Zero whistled low, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Well, damn. Guess we’re stuck with you, Cian,” he teased. “Reaper’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach. Once he digs in, you’re not getting rid of him.”
Cian’s moss-green eyes gleamed with amusement. “Who says I do be wanting to get right of him?” The demand was clear in his voice. “He be mine, and I be his.”
“No one, no one, I swear,” Zero answered, “I’m just funnin’ ya is all.”
Juice chose that moment to stride into the hall and paused just inside the doorway, scanning the room before his gaze landed on them. A slow grin spread across his face as he took in Reaper and Cian sitting side by side, their shoulders brushing.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice carrying easily. “Looks like someone finally got some...” He dropped into the seat across from them, snagged a hunk of bread from the basket in the center of the table, and smirked. “Want me to finish it?”
Reaper flipped him off. “Fuck off, Juice. Did I give you shit about Trace?”
Juice popped a piece of bread into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, you did, asshole. But seriously—” He sobered slightly, his dark eyes flicking between them. “You good, Mikey?”
Reaper exhaled through his nose, considering the question. The truth was, he didn’t know. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Juice studied him for a long moment, then nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. “Good.” He took his breakfast. “Because we’ve gotta get home. If Command comes calling and we’re AWOL, we’re pretty much fucked."
Reaper glanced at Cian, who gave him a small, reassuring smile.
“We’ll be ready,” Cian said, his voice steady. “Won’t we?”
Reaper exhaled. “Yeah. We’ll be ready.”
I’m bringing an ancient warrior through a portal and into modern-day USA… what could go wrong?
Everything.
Everything can go wrong.
We’re screwed.
