“I’m leaving,” Zander announced, moving to his office.
“We’re talking about this later,” Elijah told his back. “We are revisiting that entire topic.”
“No,” Zander growled, closing the door and locking it.
“When did you find out?” Elijah turned to Vincent, who released a small sigh.
“When I visited Axel, while she was asleep,” Vincent whispered. “He knew about Jasper and Zander. Didn’t refer to either by name, but she must have told him stories of them. That was one of them.”
“No fucking way,” Elijah said. They were all a mess, it seemed.
“Go apologize to her,” Vincent snapped. Elijah jerked back a little. The hard look in Vincent’s eyes was something he hadn’t gotten seriously in a long time. What had gotten Vincent suddenly riled up? He’d been so chill about it all day. “And take those fucking pictures with you.”
Elijah nodded mutely and grabbed them off his desk. He quietly shut Vincent in the office.
All the recent changes had them on edge for different reasons. Elijah just wanted them to be like they were. He enjoyed the easy-going companionship of Sawyer. They teased and flirted, and it was innocent and the hottest shit he had ever experienced. He also enjoyed that she and Quinn had started getting along, whether she realized it or not.
He probably fucked all of that up today. It was just hard to see Quinn hurt, in any way. Quinn had gone through a lot. Elijah was the only person on the team who knew just how much. Quinn’s scars were obvious, but the stories behind them were nightmarish.
Like Sawyer’s.
Elijah cursed softly to himself. She and Quinn were more alike than he’d realized. He should have trusted her not to hurt Quinn. She never brought up his scars, never teased him maliciously. She lacked tact, but most of them did.
Yeah, Elijah knew he’d fucked up getting riled over her trying to help Quinn. The fact that she was alive meant Quinn at least cared for her in some pack way. He kept the books, which was just interesting. And it was progress for Quinn. Sawyer must have challenged him, even if unintentionally.
Elijah moved quietly up to Sawyer’s bedroom. He didn’t bother knocking as he entered the chill surrounding her space. She was in the shower, he’d heard her as he passed. He slipped into her room and moved quietly to her desk. He sat down at it and put the pictures down.
Then he got nosy. He shouldn’t have, but he did.
He pulled the small box they all knew was here toward himself. He opened it, and his breath caught. His heart jumped into his throat.
Pictures. Pictures of so many people he didn’t know. Pictures of kids, teenagers, Charlie, that young man named Liam. Pictures of Jasper, Zander, and her growing up. Pictures of a cat, pictures of different places all over the world.
This was her life. One photo at a time, this was her life.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sawyer snarled as she entered the room. He looked up at her and choked on something. His own tongue, probably.
She was wrapped in a towel that was obviously too small. It was like the smallest red cotton dress he’d ever seen. Also, red was his towel color, so she must have been the one stealing the towels and getting them mixed up. It was something he noticed doing laundry recently.
He went hard immediately and gave her a lazy look over. Holy hell, those legs went on forever. That rich, caramel skin was still wet. He could see water running down them.
He had a serious problem with how much he loved her legs. And the rest of her. She just had a killer body.
“Elijah,” she snarled louder. That reminded him why he was here and how their last encounter had ended.
“Sorry, I wanted to bring your pictures back and talk—” Elijah stood up, closing the box neatly. He was hot. His fire manipulation often led to him just being a bit warmer, and he was feeling hot in her glare.
He was here for a serious conversation, not to pet her and make her scream. Fuck, he needed to remind his dick of that. It vehemently disagreed with him.
“I’m not in a talking mood,” she hissed in reply. “Thank you for my pictures. You can go.”
She stalked out of her doorway, and he shuffled closer to the door. Her weapons were in the room. He hoped she wasn’t mad enough to stab him. He didn’t particularly think the team needed any more injuries than they already had.
He stopped in the door, though, not leaving yet.
“Sawyer, I’m sorry,” he whispered. She didn’t respond, her back to him. She dropped her towel and he purred to himself. Well.
“Get out, Elijah,” she whispered back, not turning to him. “Also, you’re welcome.”
“For what?” Elijah frowned at her. Well, the back of her. The firm ass, the toned legs, the defined back. The curve of her hips. Smooth, delicious-looking caramel skin.
He wasn’t sleeping tonight, that was for sure. The sight of her was going to leave him raging for days.
“Letting you see me naked,” she growled. “We’ll talk tomorrow, I’m not in the mood right now. Thank you for the apology.”
He left after that, a grin breaking out on his face. He could wait until tomorrow to have a more serious talk with her.
“Oh, Elijah?” She called. He hadn’t made it down the stairs yet, so he turned around to see her at the top of them. A tank and sweats now covered her.
“Yeah, little lady?” He asked, leaning against the wall.
“If I catch you looking through my pictures again without my permission, you will leave my room with fewer fingers than I have,” she whispered with a smile.
Well, that cooled him right down.
“Alright,” he agreed, nodding. Then he practically ran, because if she wanted body parts, she had the skill and magic to take them from him.
7
Sawyer
She didn’t leave her room the next day, or the day after. She did her work in her room, talked to them when they showed up, and relaxed.
She didn’t want to have an important conversation with Elijah or any of them. She was still irked by the situation with Quinn. She had given Elijah a show to get him off her back because a good joke or tease always eased the tension.
But that tension still curled inside her. She just wasn’t going to do anything about it yet. She was waiting on something.
Three days after she had given Quinn the books, she got what she wanted. A soft knock on her door. A scratch after that. A whimper.
Quinn, Shade, and Scout were outside her bedroom wanting in. She could feel the feral power coming from the other side of the door, restless but waiting.
“Come in,” she called, standing up from her desk chair. No one in the house had seen them since she’d gone out to the woods. That was something they had mentioned. Since she went out there, Quinn hadn’t come back.
“I need help,” he huffed. “There’s a few words in here that I…”
She smiled as he trailed off, frowning at himself.
“Come sit down,” she chuckled. “I’ll help you through them.”
They sat in the middle of the bed next to each other. Shade and Scout curled up behind them near the headboard.
He was having a very difficult time with scientific names. She knew he would. She helped him sound it out and taught him the Latin and Greek rules that somehow got mixed up in the naming of species.
They worked through the book about birds for nearly two hours. Quinn was actually a better reader than Vincent gave him credit for, but Sawyer wondered if Quinn also just didn’t like whatever Vincent gave him to read. For beginning readers, enjoying the subject matter was important, very important. To a bunch of guys in their twenties who didn’t really know any better, they would have just been frustrated all around, trying to get Quinn to read texts that weren’t interesting to him.
“This isn’t the reading list Vincent was told to use for me,” Quinn whispered finally, “so, why did you give them to me?”
“Because I’m not trying to get you a piece
of paper that says you’re educated,” she told him mildly. “I’m showing you that reading isn’t so bad.”
“I wish Jasper gave me these.” He sighed. “He’s not allowed to give me anything more advanced to try until the reading list is done so they know I can understand it.”
“Well,” Sawyer whispered, “this will be our secret, then.”
“Not much of a secret if everyone knows it.” Quinn frowned at her. “They are interesting books. I know a lot of the information in them, but… now I see how others talk about it. I’ve… liked trying to read them.”
“Then our secret will be that you like it.” Sawyer chuckled, and she watched Quinn’s face change. Something sparked in the icy eyes, and the smile that graced his face made her heart ache.
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “For the books. I like them.”
“They are Jasper’s books,” she told him, “but I thought you might like reading more if you tried to learn how with something you like, and not just a study plan that the state is telling Vincent he has to use.”
“You’ve done this before,” he said plainly.
“I have.” She sighed. “For young kids, but… Quinn, I don’t know anything about you. What I do know is that there is nothing here that is your fault.” Sawyer tapped a book as she said it. “Nothing. It is not the fault of the child when the parent fails. You have nothing to feel embarrassed over. You can only keep trying to make yourself better in your own eyes. Fuck the world.”
“Jon used to call me an uneducated redskin, a savage,” Quinn explained. Sawyer held back a growl of anger at that statement.
“Jon is very dead now,” she said firmly. She was reminding not just him, but herself. Because she would stab a man for saying that about someone. Goddamn racist fucking pricks. Another cruel reminder that she was in the middle of bum-fuck Georgia and not her diverse, chaotic, lovely New York.
“I know.” Quinn looked away from her. “The funeral is coming up. We weren’t invited.”
Sawyer didn’t much care about the damn funeral for Jon. His team? She felt for them. They had been dragged to their deaths because of their leader, but she had no sympathy for Jon.
“I understand, you know.” Sawyer leaned so her shoulder touched his. “My heritage makes people dislike me immediately. They say all sorts of things that aren’t true, like tell me to go back where I came from. Ignore them. They’re pricks, and they aren’t worth your time.”
“Thank you,” he reiterated. Sawyer wanted to hug him, but she didn’t think he would appreciate it. She reminded herself that Quinn was as likely to bite as he was to return the hug.
“Give these books a few more days on your own. Try writing out the parts you know, take notes. It’ll help you work on both skills.” She smiled at him, and he flicked her a glance out of the corner of his eyes.
“Good idea. Vincent and Jasper would like that, so they know I’m making progress in something…”
“Fuck Vincent and Jasper for a moment and think about what you want, Quinn. What can you do with this skill? Could you write down all the amazing things your naturalism ability lets you discover? Stop worrying about the stupid fucking tests and GED. Stop worrying about having a piece of paper that claims you’re educated. You are intelligent. You don’t need a piece of paper for that.”
She was startled when he jumped off the bed, nodding.
“I can write recipes myself instead of memorizing them or having one of the other guys do it…” Quinn murmured to himself. She had started it. She had flipped the switch.
After Quinn left, she was going to go downstairs and hit the other guys with a ruler. Dumb nuts needed to think a bit outside the box, the fucking idiots. She figured Elijah would have stumbled on this, at the very least. She thought about that a moment longer. No. Elijah’s obvious over-protective nature with Quinn would have meant he never wanted to push Quinn too hard. He’d made the guys hold back on getting Quinn up to speed. He was mad at her just for giving him books, of all things.
Sawyer got off her bed and went back to her desk as Quinn paced around her room, mumbling to himself.
“Will you help me with spelling?” he asked, turning back to her. She stopped what she was about to do and looked him over. His eyes were dancing with more excitement then she had ever seen.
“I’m terrible at spelling… but I can try?” She raised her hands in a shrug. “I think Jasper and Vincent might be a better help with that.”
“Okay,” he said with a sharp nod.
She’d created a monster. This wasn’t going to be dropped for months. It was good thing, but she was suddenly thankful she had just volunteered Overbearing Ass and Too Smart For His Own Good without them knowing.
“I’m going to go get a notebook and pencils,” Quinn told her, then left quickly. She chuckled to herself as the wolves followed him out.
Yeah, she had done something good.
Now it was time to go get into it with the other guys.
She took the mask out of her box of gear and left it on her desk. She lifted the box and began walking out. She could hear a howl, from the first floor. She knew each of them by heart now. Shade was trying to get someone’s attention.
She walked quietly down the stairs, past the bedrooms, to the ground floor. She caught a glimpse of Quinn leaving with Vincent behind him.
Even better, Quinn had taken one of them out of the equation. She got to the offices and stuck her head through Vincent and Elijah’s door. She knew Vincent would be gone, but she was hoping for Elijah. He wasn’t there. She walked to Jasper and Zander’s office and did the same thing.
“You two know where Elijah is?” she asked, knowing she was only a head coming through the door.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Zander jumped, looking over at her. He practically fell out of his chair, and she could barely hold back a chuckle. “Jesus fuck. Holy hell.”
“Uh…” Jasper just stared at her wide-eyed. “That’s the creepiest shit I have ever seen phasing used for… Also, insanely dangerous, holding it like that.”
“Yeah,” Sawyer huffed with an eyeroll. “I don’t do it often, but I have shit in my hands. Where’s Elijah?”
“Working on Jasper’s leg in his… work space. Whatever you want to call it.” Zander growled. “Now get the fuck out of the door. That shit is fucking freaking me out.”
She pulled her head back through and was chuckling to herself as she left the house. She knew what space they were talking about. The building with all the weapons and Elijah’s little blacksmith space. She hadn’t been over to it since before Atlanta.
It was a slow walk through the midday Georgia sun. August in Georgia was humid and hot, and there was no safety from it.
She got to the building, tried to open the door, and failed. She didn’t have a code to get in yet. She was going to demand one today. She wasn’t going to be locked away from getting her gear if she needed it.
She kicked the door a few times and sighed. There wasn’t a shield in her way, the building wasn’t enchanted to stop her. She could just phase through it.
“Why not? Who needs doors anymore?” She stepped through, taking the box with her.
Kenny Chesney was playing loudly, and she saw Elijah immediately. His massive form was almost completely nude. He wore shorts and a black apron. She noticed the sweltering heat inside the building was hotter than it was outside, but Elijah seemed perfectly comfortable.
She felt like she was melting and quickly, like a snowman in summer.
She walked closer, passing the gun safes and the wall of handheld weaponry. She dropped her box on a clear table and waited for Elijah to see her.
She watched him work, hammering on a piece of steel. He weaved his own enchanting magic into it. She couldn’t do it, she didn’t have the ability, but she could appreciate it. Very, very few Magi could enchant as they crafted. It was an old skill, one mostly ignored in modern times.
Cowboy has his own secrets, she thought
to herself. Someone had to have taught him… or he taught himself for the sheer pleasure of it, which was madness in Sawyer’s mind.
He finally looked up at her, and she watched his muscles ripple from the effort of the work he was doing.
“Five minutes,” he mumbled, distracted. She didn’t respond, only watched, fanning herself.
He turned away from her, and she saw a lick of fire run up his back, but never burn him. She’d known he was a fire elemental, since… well he could manipulate fire but the fact that it didn’t damage him told her more. She narrowed her eyes on him and watched how he used his magic, felt for the fluctuations in his Source as he expended magic to create the fire, control it, and extinguish it. She watched him weave magic into the molten steel he was forming into a blade. Whatever enchantment he was doing was intricate, something she couldn’t identify.
She was impressed, and not just with his magic. His back was a solid mass of tense, rippling muscles, honed by the effort of doing this work. When he turned back to her, she saw sweat going down his pecs and abs trailing to…
She looked back at his face.
Nope. She was mad at him. She wasn’t going to drink in the sight of his gorgeous body until she was no longer mad at him.
Finally, he placed whatever he was working on into a bucket of water with a sigh.
“Why are you here, little lady?” he asked, walking over to her.
“You did all of that without gloves… or really any clothes on,” she pointed out, ignoring his question.
“I can get away with it sometimes.” He chuckled and shrugged. “Answer my question.”
“I am bringing all my crap for you to inventory,” she said, placing a hand on the box next to her.
“Oh, amazing!” Elijah grinned at the box and grabbed something off the table closest to him, then walked over. “Your ring, by the way. I didn’t mess with the enchantments at all and even had someone look it over to make sure they were still good.”
“Thank you.” She slid it back on her right ring finger and looked at her stuff. “I’m keeping the mask for myself,” she told him quickly. “End of discussion.”
A Heart of Shame Page 8