Shadows and Shade Box Set

by Amanda Cashure

  The lack of a bed frame or mattress are also clear measures to keep everything up here as light as possible. The thing flexes a little as I climb onto it, bowing underneath me like a cocoon. I don’t even bother trying to get under the blanket, just grip one corner and pull it over me – adding to the cocooning.

  My sigh is loud enough to make both Seth and Roarke turn from their tasks – Roarke rolling his pants leg up and beginning to unravel the bandage around his thigh and Seth throwing a small rubber ball at the wall in an annoying little rhythm.

  “Comfortable?” Seth asks.

  I make an ‘mmm’ sound, my eyes about to drift shut when the guy bounds across the room and launches himself through the air. I squeal, curling up in the hope of protecting myself from being squished.

  The bed flexes like the thing is freaking going to break.

  The poles creak, ropes pulling tight, then it springs back up into place. But it takes my thumping heart a little longer to realize I’m not about to fall to my death. The thing’s stronger than it looks.

  One muscle at a time I relax, slowly straightening from my ball.

  “Seth!” I finally manage to yell.

  “Want me to do it again?” he asks.

  “No!”

  He shimmies in close, pulling me – blanket and all – toward him and fitting his body around mine. One arm over my waist and curled up to rest over my fingers, which finally relax and let go of the blanket I was using for cover.

  “Good, because you’re right. This is comfortable,” he says.

  I make another ‘mmm’ sound and relax into his arms. If I keep him close, I’ve got a better chance at not getting jumped on again.

  Roarke is shaking his head at us, then his gaze shoots to the door. Without a knock, or even the hint of boots on timber, the thing opens and Pax stomps in, followed closely by Killian.

  Killian doesn’t even look at me, his attention on Roarke and the pink line of stitched-together and half-healed tissue on his leg.

  “Leave them in,” he mutters, fetching a bottle of burns-like-bralls from his saddle bag and passing it to his brother.

  Roarke nods and begins to clean the wound. All of that happening in the background as Pax closes the door and settles his attention on me.

  “Sleeping,” I tell him, pointing with the arm not currently being held in place by Seth.

  Killian’s gaze moves to the arm, my broken arm, and he grunts.

  “Not now,” I moan.

  “It’s not hurting?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Just a little ache.”

  Both guys look across at Roarke.

  “Why does she need to be in pain?” Roarke asks, tying off the end of the bandage. Before anyone can respond, the guy sighs and gets to his feet. “This is harder than it sounds, guys,” he says, leaving the room.

  “Yes, why do I need to be in pain?” I ask, watching the door as I talk.

  What did I miss? Because if there’s a new rule that involves me and pain, and I wasn’t involved in that decision, I am going to be really pissed.

  “Allure needs to keep his distance,” Seth explains, his breath fluttering my hair.

  “We all do,” Killian grumbles, moving toward me.

  “Not me,” Seth says, his tone about as slow as his breathing is.

  “Are you falling asleep?” I ask him.

  He mumbles something, which is nothing like any words I know.

  “Just because you’re not in pain doesn’t mean you’re healing right,” Killian says, pulling a stool close.

  “Gentle,” I plead, because I can’t escape.

  Seth has me pinned, his weight the perfect mix of comforting and… just more comforting.

  Killian grabs my elbow and jerks my arm clear of the blanket.

  “I could have moved it if you’d asked,” I hiss.

  He grips my index finger and gives it a firm pull.

  I gasp in pain, making Seth sit up and glare at the both of us.

  “Did that hurt?” Killian asks.

  “What’s going on?” Seth demands, but I growl over him.

  “Yeah, it hurt.”

  “Good,” Killian grunts, pressing his palm to Seth’s forehead and pushing the guy backward. “Go back to sleep.”

  “You have three minutes,” Seth says, wrapping his arms back around me, his cheek resting against mine.

  “Can I just go to sleep?” I ask, because assuming Killian’s not about to elicit more pain, I’d really just like to sleep.

  “In two and a half minutes, Vexy,” Seth says.

  He’s watching Killian like a hawk watches its dinner. Killian unravels the bandage and lines the splints back up. Behind him Pax is leaning on the mantle, his shoulder pressed into the timber frame around the metal, turning a small gold coin through his fingers, over and over.

  “One and a half minutes,” Seth says.

  Killian just grunts at him, not hurrying to fasten the bandage in place.

  “Half a minute,” Seth says.

  “You can’t count,” Killian grunts.

  I feel Seth shrug behind me. “I don’t mind if my clock ticks faster than yours.”

  Killian tucks the edge of the bandage in neatly, and as soon as he’s let go of me, Seth’s grip tightens, and he rolls me clean over the top of him and onto the other side of the bed. A squeak escapes me, then I realize that nothing else has changed. He’s not about to push me onto the floor or start jumping on the bed. We’ve just rolled over.

  “Go to sleep, Vexy.”

  The blanket is still around me with Seth behind me. The only way to get under this blanket is in front of me.

  All I can see now is a wall. The painting of consecutive images of the moon, from waxing through to full and then back around to waxing, has been done directly onto the wall and covers half the space. Shuffling noises tell me Killian has gone to sit somewhere. Followed by the sound of zippers, weapons being collected, and things being laid down on the timber floor.

  Then polishing. I’m sure that sound is polishing.

  A new rhythm settles through me. Breathing and polishing. Everything in me relaxes.

  Seth moves, his hand digging underneath the blanket until it’s resting against the skin on my chest. I stop breathing, waiting for it to move, to hunt lower.

  The gentle rhythm of cloth on leather stops, and the room feels like it’s holding its breath with me. If I weren’t hyper focused on the sensation of Seth’s skin against mine, taking me completely by surprise, I might realize that the reason the polishing has stopped is because Killian has sensed something. He probably knows what I’m feeling right now better than I do.

  Seth lets out a little snore.

  The guy’s asleep.

  Genuinely asleep.

  He’s not discreetly trying to feel for my boobs – and I let out a groan for having thought that he was. And having freaked out trying to work out how to react. Why did I do that?

  He jolts, moving his arm to rub his head. Which is exactly the moment I realize I liked his hand there.

  “Who’s throwing shit?” he grumbles.

  “Shade?” Killian growls.

  I’ve a feeling that the unspoken part of that sentence goes something like, ‘do you want me to kill him?’

  “Am I crushing you? Do you want me to move?” Seth says before I can answer Killian, his voice deep and sleepy.

  He starts to sit up, taking some of the weight off me. Before his hand is out of reach, I grab the thing and tug it in close to my chest. There’s him, a blanket wrapped around me, and then me still fully dressed.

  But his body wrapped around mine even through all of that still feels incredibly close.

  Intimate.

  Perfect.

  “Nope,” I say, gripping his fingers and pushing them to my chest, exactly where he had them a moment ago.

  He chuckles, then relaxes and nuzzles his head back down behind mine.

  “See, Darkness. There’s benefits to being on
the bottom of the power-food-chain,” Seth says.

  Three breaths later and he’s snoring again.

  Damn, do all these guys snore? Killian mentioned that his room is magically warded for sound, maybe it’s because he chuckin’ snores too.

  These thoughts, and a whole lot of others that are equally useless, dance through my mind between bouts of sleep. Every time Seth or I move, the whole bed sways, and I half wake up before I realize where I am and what’s going on.

  At some point Seth sits up and perches on the edge of the bed, making me roll toward the middle. Roarke returns, his soft voice joining the others.

  The smell of freshly baked cakes fills the room, and I moan, cracking one eyelid and holding my hand out. Not to anyone or anything in particular – just out.

  Lates, the last meal in their way-too-long Silvari day. It must be about midnight.

  Seth laughs at me, nestling a cupcake in my palm. I pull it inside my blanket, because I’m too tired to eat it – but if I don’t claim food off these guys, I’m left to starve.

  “Is she sleeping with that cake?” Roarke asks.

  Seth chuckles. “I think so.”

  “It’s for later,” I mumble. “Later lates.”

  “There’ll be more food later,” Pax says, his voice coming from the other side of the room.

  I hadn’t really opened my eyes long enough to work out where everyone was.

  “Maybe,” I mutter.

  “Unquestionably. We always feed you,” Killian grumbles.

  “Sometimes,” I mutter.

  “Mortals need food, sleep, water, medical attention. We give you those things,” Killian says.

  “I know you try,” I say, or try to say. I might only be whispering at this point.

  Killian grunts. “What’s she talking about?”

  “Clearly we don’t feed her enough,” Roarke says.

  ~~~

  The next thing I hear is some kid squealing in delight as they run down the hallway – right past our door.

  I open my eyes and push myself away from the sticky thing pressing against my neck. The blanket is still kind of wrapped around me, tangling me, and it takes a minute to get free enough to see the remains of a jam-filled cupcake pressed into the blanket and smudged all over me.

  “Ew,” I groan. “Why didn’t someone tell me it was full of jam?”

  There’s only two people in the room. Seth, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, and Killian, who’s literally sitting on the windowsill.

  Killian doesn’t react, but by the relaxed angles of his shoulders I’d say he’s amused.

  Seth, however, won’t chuckin’ stop laughing.

  I dig my fingers into the remains of jam and cake on what was once a big, fluffy white blanket. Then without even looking at the guy I dive, my fingers threading through his hair.

  “Vexy!” he cries, jumping as far from me as he can.

  I topple forward, grabbing the blanket to try and stop my fall, but the damn thing comes with me. With my chin tucked to my chest, I roll from the bed onto my back on the floor, and the blanket falls on top of me. I just did a front flip out of bed… okay, I shouldn’t give myself that much credit – it was more of a front-crash.

  I’m laughing too hard to move until the sound of the door opening cuts through the room. I push the blanket off my face and find myself looking directly up at Pax.

  The guy crouches down next to my head and brushes the wild locks off my face.

  “Hi,” I say.

  Giving him a little wave, or more like a wiggle of my jammy fingers.

  “I’m going to have another shower,” Seth complains somewhere in the background.

  “Morning,” Pax says, ignoring Seth.

  He runs his finger through the jam on my neck, sending a rush of tingles down my spine, then sticks it in his mouth.

  “Interesting way to eat,” he says, a teasing little smile in the corner of his mouth.

  Pax.

  Eat.

  Me.

  Bite.

  Yum.

  My brain completely malfunctions.

  He laughs at me, standing up and heading for the door.

  “I’ll send the servants up with a shower,” he says. “Shower, dress, then we leave for the markets.”

  Then he’s gone, and it’s just me and Killian, who’s still smelling the air outside the window like each breath contains new information.

  I stay where I am until the servants arrive and a hose is hung over a drain in the far corner that I didn’t even see. They plug the hose into the wall, then leave. Apparently they have plumbing, but water-use is controlled.

  I still don’t move, not until Killian’s pulled the curtains closed, left the room, and the door’s shut. Then I’m on my feet and ripping my sticky, nasty clothes off me as fast as I can.

  Shirt over my head, then two steps later my pants hit the floor, two more steps, and my braies are down. I leave a trail of jam and clothes from me to the bed, more interested in pulling the lever on the wall. The water cascades from the hose cool, but not cold.

  At first the jam smudges, but when the water warms up the jam starts to wash away. Then the shower turns itself off.

  I pull the lever again, but nothing happens.

  Yep – very tight control on water.

  No – I don’t care why, I just want my shower.

  Groaning, I drip out onto the floor, grab the towel the servants left on the mantle, and dry myself while navigating between my jam-covered clothes and the guys’ bags. I find Seth’s and begin to fish around for something to wear – when three stashed blocks of chocolate tumble out.

  Naturally, I forget about getting dressed, tucking the towel tightly around myself, and sitting on the floor instead. I’m three pieces of chocolate in when the door opens.

  For half a beat I consider running for cover – but this oversized big-ass-Saber-guy towel is like a winter cloak on me and every face outside that door is one I know. One of my guys.

  Three of whom just showered and are wearing towels – like mine, only tied around their waists, not their whole bodies.

  Roarke’s holding the doorknob, but Pax is the first one to enter. He takes two steps into the room before his golden gaze meets mine, and he freezes in place.

  “I told you to knock,” Killian grumbles from the hallway.

  Seth saunters past the others, stepping over the piles of clothes and searching for his bag – still not noticing me.

  “Shit, Vexy. You’re messier than any of us,” he says, his gaze finally resting on me. “And you’re naked.”

  “So are you,” I say around my mouthful of delicious sugary goodness.

  “I’m not currently making four guys har–” he begins, but stops himself short and instead marches from the room. “I’m waiting in the hall.”

  The others turn around too, and the door is almost slammed shut.

  I swallow my mouthful, then call after them, “I’m finishing my chocolate first.”

  My Shadow has no idea. Sitting around in a towel – on the floor – eating chocolate. Being with the four of us is never going to be safe enough to do that.

  Pax has no fucking idea. Carrying that Sigil in his pocket and not using it. As if things are going to change, going to get better.

  Seth has no brain cells available to get an idea with. At least he got the rest of us out of the room, away from my naked-chocolate-eating shadow. Shadows should not engage in any of those activities.

  And Roarke has no idea. None. Can’t see past his own damn nose. What does he think he’s doing? Taking away her pain constantly is too dangerous.

  Of course I know when she’s in pain. I can feel it – ever-present. I have to actively put it to the periphery of my power, and that’s when he uses his power. Putting her at risk again.

  Worse, he knows that her mortal body can’t handle it. That exposing her to his power when he doesn’t have to will eventually kill her.

  Pax puts a t
owel over her head as the rest of us get dressed, then ushers us all out of the cramped little room. If it weren’t for her I’d have purchased my own room – but I’m not leaving her within arm’s reach of Allure without a fist ready to follow.

  We return to the ground before entering Lackshir market.

  The place is packed with merchants wearing swords to warn off thieves – and I love it. Something to concentrate on. Something to consider killing.

  Locals move with a relaxed determination from stall to stall, collecting their needs. There’s a further two categories of people here: transients with too much weaponry for a village market, and trouble.

  Four boys with mischief in their threads rush between the people, upending a tray of apples and, in the distraction, taking a sweet roll from the neighboring baker. I smile at them as they run – straight into me. Looking over their shoulders and not where they’re going.

  The boy in the lead notices me first. He stumbles, lands on his ass, then tries to shuffle further backward. His threads of mischief become surrounded by the coppery scent of self-preservation.

  “S-sorry, sir,” the kid says.

  His three friends come to a sudden stop. One looks nervously over his shoulder at the vendors dealing with the apples. Another searches around the markets, for exits or more trouble, I imagine. The third has his eyes firmly on me, anger bubbling up inside him. Not one of them has the ties of family or kin. My chest rumbles as I enjoy their teamwork. As a team they have a strong chance. Survival.

  “It’s okay,” my shadow says, stepping up beside me and resting a hand on my chest as if to stop me from moving.

  I glance down at the hand, small, delicate, gentle.

  “It’s okay, boys, he…” She trails off as her gray eyes meet mine, her brow furrowing. “He’s amused.”

  She smiles up at me.

  “Get home, boys,” Pax snaps.

  They’re on their feet and off as quickly as their Silvari legs can move.