“Touch my coffee,” I stop to catch my breath before continuing, “and you,” the need for more air stops me again, diminishing my threat’s ferocity, but I soldier through my lack of oxygen, “will die.”
I bend over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath after my Olympic worthy sprint through the house. I raise my hand without moving my head up from where it hangs and lift one finger, indicating that I need a minute.
After I’m able to breathe normally again, I stand to my full height and glare at Chase, who’s sat at the island, nowhere near the coffee he threatened. There’s a huge grin on his face, clearly pleased with himself for making me work out at such an unreasonable time of morning. Lathan is next to Chase, grinning from ear to ear, evidently finding happiness in my suffering, while Silas leans against the kitchen counter that harbors my coffee, one arm crossed over his chest and the holding his mug, once again fighting a smile, but I clearly see the laughter dancing in his eyes.
“Not fucking cool. Don’t mess with my coffee, especially this early in the damn morning,” I practically growl and threateningly point my finger at Chase, who looks like he’s still trying to stifle his laughter if the shade of red he’s turning is anything to go by.
“It’s like being told off by a feisty little kitten,” he says, not quite stopping the chuckle that sneak out.
I do the universal hand gesture that indicates he should go forth and multiply, which causes Chase to roll his eyes and bark out a laugh, before heading to my coffee, picking it up and leaning against the counter beside Silas. I take a long sip and a moan slips out of my mouth at the deliciousness that is my own personal brand of crack, and I whisper under my breath, “So fucking good.”
When I glance up, three sets of eyes stare at me with a deep intensity, looking like they’re ten seconds away from pouncing on and devouring me. I look at each of the guys, their hungry gazes never leaving me. What did I do?
“What?” I pry, the innocence in that single word not at all exaggerated. Seriously, what did I do?
Chase looks away first, almost face planting into his mug when he lifts it to take a drink of the liquid inside. When I look at Lathan, his eyes remain firmly fixed on my face, and I get completely lost in his mint coloured eyes, the heated stare he gives me warming me from head to toe. There’s a flutter in my belly, and my heartbeat picks up its pace just after calming down after the sprint of my life to save my coffee. There’s also a very distinct flutter in my nether region. The terms fanny flutters means exactly that. Who knew?
Silas breaks the spell by coughing, and I pull my eyes away from Lathan, shaking my head to rid of the lingering effects his gaze had on me. The hell was that?
Not a second later, Rylan comes walking into the kitchen in nothing but his sweatpants, immediately takinging my mind off my confusing, mixed up thoughts and shifting them straight into thoughts of a much sexier variety. His chest is completely bare, and his abs are proudly on display, his taut muscles stretching and bulging as he moves. With a purposeful stride towards me, he lifts his hand and wipes away the little bit of drool that escaped my mouth. Dammit.
“You’ve got a little something right there,” he says, coyly smiling at me before giving me soft kiss on my parted lips. He turns around and makes himself a coffee before sitting on the third stool at the island next to Chase.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Silas’ hand gripping his mug tighter, the sound of straining ceramic hitting my eardrums.
Without any conscious thought on my part, I find myself shimmying closer to him, wanting to, I don’t know, make him feel better, maybe? I’m close enough that my duvet covered arm rests against his own, and I notice he relaxes instantly. Well, that’s going to need an explanation.
I take a sip of my coffee, and while the mug is at my mouth, I glance at Chase and Lathan from under my eyelashes to find their faces looking strained, frustration more than anger marring their beautiful features. I really need to know what’s going on with these guys.
There’s an awkward silence lingering in the air, and I don’t do well with awkward silences, so I blurt the first thing that pops into my head.
“I threw a boomerang a few years ago. I now live in constant fear,” I’m already mentally face palming myself at the joke I remember reading last week. I laughed for a solid ten minutes at that joke.
There’s a thirty second long silence before it has the desired effect, and the room fills with male laughter. I can’t help but grin so hard that my cheeks begin to hurt. I only join in with the laughter when Chase almost falls off his stool, his laugh becoming infectious.
After the laughter dies down and the tension dissipates Silas asks, “So, what’s the plan for today?”
“Well, I think we should take a look at that book Buttercup read. That might give us some answers as to why you guys are here. Then we’ll figure out why a Ghoul attacked her, on Halloween of all nights,” Rylan suggests.
After he drinks his coffee, he turns to me with a smile and says, “Okay, babe, lead the way to the book that started this fiasco.”
CHAPTER TEN
Lathan
“If you think for one second that I’m going up that ladder of doom first, you’re all sorely mistaken,” says the feisty redhead who’s standing in front of me where we all surround said ‘ladder of doom’ as she clutches her faintly glowing necklace in her palm.
After breakfast, Livvie went to get dressed for the day and Rylan went home to change clothes. He returned twenty minutes later and joined us in listening to Livvie belt out Journey songs while she got ready. Turns out she only needed ten minutes to get dressed. The rest of the time was literally spent singing off key and dancing in her room. Once she was done, she came in to the living room with the biggest smile on her face that did something funny to my chest, so I, for one, couldn’t be mad at waiting or listening to her horrifically bad singing. When she came in the room, however, we all noticed her necklace glowing dimly. When she asked Rylan about it, he replied with, “You’ve come into your powers, babe. The glow will get stronger when you start using them but eventually fade when you have full control over them.”
Now, however, she clutches the necklace like a lifeline and stands stock still, refusing to climb the rickety ladder.
“We’ll be right behind you, Liv. You don’t need to worry,” Chase assures her with an easy going smile when he notices the flash of panic fly across her face, trying to make her relax enough to head up the ladder. He clearly doesn’t catch on to the stubborn set of her jaw and the tightly fisted hand that she wrapped somewhat protectively around herself.
“Psssh. Fat chance, buddy. Last time I went up there, I got chased back down by a gust of wind, and I have bruises on my butt cheeks from where my ass hit every rung on the ladder when I tried to escape with my life,” she replies dramatically, scowling at the offending ladder.
I can’t help the snicker that escapes me before I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I can make it feel better, if you want.”
My flirting must be broken, because it doesn’t have the desired effect. What I was expecting was a blush or a girly giggle, but this woman isn’t short on surprises, so I’m learning. What I receive instead is a very unladylike snort, a nudge of her elbow in my gut and a shake of the head. That’s not the reaction I was aiming for, but it’s funny nonetheless. Intriguing little thing.
“How about I go first, then, you chicken?” asks Rylan, rolling his eyes while smiling. I don’t think goading her into going first will work, but I keep my mouth shut seeing as though this guy has known her longer than myself. To my faux surprise, she proves me right with her reply, even though I’m clueless as to what she’s talking about.
“You go right on ahead. Then the spooks can maul you first instead of me, and I’ll have a chance to escape,” she replies like it makes complete and total sense. It doesn’t.
All of us guys look at one another questioningly, not a single one of us knowing what she’
s talking about. She said there was only a creepy book up there. What spooks is she talking about? When she catches the confused looks we’re giving each other, she says “Oh, right, yeah, when I was drunk I thought I was going to get snatched and dragged to hell by spooks I was convinced lived in my attic after I read the book.”
Again, she says it like it’s the most logical thing in the world, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re still scratching our heads after her revelation. I’m half questioning if this woman has much of her sanity left in tact.
“Fine, I'll go first. You're coming into the attic though, Buttercup. You need to show us what you read,” Rylan insists, shaking his head at the unhinged woman I seem far too captivated by.
When I notice her shoulders tense that little bit more, I lean into her from behind, my chest brushing her back, and I press my mouth against her ear and whisper, “I'll be right behind you, Red. We won't let anything happen to you. I swear.”
It must have been what she needed to hear, because I see her shoulders relax, and she releases the breath she must have been holding, tension leaking out of her tiny body. Her fists unclench from the iron grip she’d squeezed them into, and she drops her arms from where they wrapped around herself.
Because I can't help seem to myself, I raise my hand and place it on her arm, comforting her by running my hand up her arm to her shoulder and back down again in what I hope is a soothing gesture. She practically melts under my hand, which is a curious reaction considering she didn't even bat an eyelid at my flirting. I really must have broken it.
I keep my hand on her soft skin seeing as though it seems to helps her remain calm and relaxed, and partially because something inside me settles when I touch her for some reason. A reason that I’d really love explained.
Rylan starts his ascent up the ladder and pushes the hatch open when he reaches the top. He wastes no time disappearing into the attic, and pokes his head out from where he squats down and calls, “All clear. You can come up now.”
“By all means, you guys can mosey on up before me. At least then I'm guaranteed enough getaway time if any surprise ghost attacks happen up there,” she motions for Chase and Silas to proceed with the climbing of the ladder. With eyerolls and headshakes, they do as they're told.
When I don't immediately move to what she acts like will be my impending doom, Red turns to look at me in question. She raises her eyebrow, and jerks her head to indicate that I should be on my way. I ignore her, however, and give her a cheeky grin.
“Ah, I insist, ladies first.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and it's like watching a light bulb go off above her head when she swings her body around towards me with an expression of faux outrage on her face.
“You just want to stare at my wounded ass while I climb!” she accuses, really laying it on thick. Her acting is appalling, especially when her mouth keeps twitching with a barely restrained grin. No matter how dreadful her acting skills, she still manages to make me laugh at her antics, though not enough to distract me from the task at hand.
“You're stalling. I'm behind you so I can make sure you actually go into the attic. I'm also here so you feel at least a little bit safer knowing I’ve got your back. I'll be right behind you. I'll plaster myself to you if that's what it takes to make you feel comfortable enough to make the climb,” I declare, genuine with my assurances.
Her face seems to soften when she realises I'm really here just to make sure she feels comfortable and safe, her cheeks turning an appealing shade of pink that I have to distract myself from. I've no idea why I'm reacting this way, but I can't seem to fight the urge to protect the fiery little woman. I'm drawn to her with absolutely no clue as to why, and I seem to be powerless to control my reactions and feelings when she's around me.
With my little statement settled in her brain, she turns around and starts climbing without another word. She stops after the first three rungs and turns her head to look at me over her shoulder. I look up from where I was staring at her deliciously plump ass to see her eyebrow raised and a cute little smirk on her face.
“What? I didn't say I wouldn’t look,” I laugh out before I start to climb up the ladder, hot on her trail.
We make it up the ladder without incident, though I keep my front practically superglued to her back, until we reach the cold, dusty attic. There aren’t any windows up here, so the only light comes from the little hatch we’ve just climbed through, not enough to have a solid grasp on our surroundings.
Silas pulls out a flashlight that he keeps attached to his keyring. Light fills the attic and I take a slow glance around the room. It’s filled with all sorts of old antique looking items, from beautifully crafted mirrors to the elegant old school bird cages. There are a few items covered in off white grungy looking sheets, likely from being up here and neglected for so long. There’s dust on every surface to be found, except for the left hand corner of the attic where a grubby book lays surrounded by candles and ornaments used for witchcraft. I recognise the book from which our quirky little redhead drunkenly read from, the soft gold light emanating from the cover giving it away.
I look down when a flicker of light catches my eye. Liv’s necklace seems to glowing a little bit brighter. My hand finds Liv’s lower back, this protective streak holding strong, and we both walk towards the other guys where they stand around the haggard looking book I know to be a witch’s pride and joy: a Grimoire.
The closer to the book we walk, the brighter the necklace gets.
“Okay, well the glowing book and the fact that your necklace grows brighter the closer you get to it makes me think this is what we’re looking for,” Chase jokes before turning to Liv and prodding, “Want to show us what page you read, Kitten?”
“Do I want to? That would be a solid hell no. However, I will man up and do so anyway, but I swear, if any spooks pop out of this damn book, I’m out of here, capiche?” she sternly replies. Bless her heart for trying to come across as a badass. Sadly for her, Chase spoke the truth earlier earlier when he compared her to a feisty little kitten. The thought brings a smirk to my face.
Ignoring the few snickers from Chase and I, she takes a deep breath and walks up to the book with determination. She stretches her t-shirt up so it covers the lower half of her face, the only things visible are her eyes and the glow of the necklace shining through her shirt, outlining where on her chest it lies.
Before we can question her, we get our answer when she opens the front cover and a flurry of dust wafts its way from the book. Liv bats it away with one hand, while the other secures her shirt to her face. I’m positive I can hear her quiet, muffled mutters through her shirt, “I ain’t having another goddamn sneezing fit because of this piece of dead tree. Not today, bitch.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, and she turns her head towards me with her eyes wide. A rather comical sight to behold when her eyes are still the only thing we can see. After the dust settles, literally, she moves she shirt from her face and says out loud “I need to remember you guys have, like, super sonic hear- oh shit, my singing this morning..”
She swings her horror filled gaze around to look at each of us, humour evident on all of our faces, even Silas, who’s a grumpy bastard on the best of days.
“Yeah, you definitely preformed whatever the hell that was for an audience. I’m not even going to class that as singing. I think I heard your neighbours dog barking in sync with your.. noise making,” Chase snickers, always the jokester.
Liv’s cheeks flame red, but she ignores everyone’s laughter when she turns back to the Grimoire and starts looking through the book.
“Uh, guys, I can’t remember what page it was,” she says sheepishly while still flicking through the pages.
Silas walks up to her, stopping so he stands as close as possible to her. A pang of jealousy hits me out of nowhere, though less vehemently than when Rylan touches her, likely because I’ve knows Silas for aeons. Plus, I’m used to sharing women with hi
m and Chase. I have a feeling it’s simply because I want to be touching her too. We seriously need to figure this shit out.
Silas flicks through the pages from behind Liv, before he turns to us and remarks, “Well, it’s all in Latin, and she read it when she was intoxicated. This may take a little time.”
He turns back around and reaches for a page at the same time Liv does, and a red flash bursts from the book, the force of it powerful enough that it knocks us all on our asses. Dust flies in every direction, sheets are pulled off different pieces of furniture from where Chase and Rylan fall into them before hitting the floor. The light Silas was providing with his flashlight wavers before it goes out, and we’re surrounded in darkness for all of two seconds before the candles around the book flicker to life.
We pull ourselves off the old, rotten floorboards and brush ourselves off as soon as we regain our wits. What the hell was that?
When I look over to the book, it’s still glowing red, and it seems the book is open to a different page than where Silas and Livvie were looking. I check on Liv, who landed next to me, and notice her necklace glows the same shade of red as the light coming from the book now. That’s not at all ominous or anything.
I help her up off the floor, dusting her off and then walking around her to the book. Scanning the page, I try to read what’s written there. It takes a couple of tries seeing as though I’ve not needed to read Latin in quite some time, but when it finally clicks, my eyes widen, and I suck in a lungful of dust infested air, which in turn causes a coughing fit.
Silas strides towards me to slap my back, trying to help rid me of my hacking. It takes longer than I care to admit to finally be able to breathe properly again, but when I do Silas demands, “Well, what did the book say that caused you to almost cough up a lung?”
I glance back at the book and then to Liv, my shock quickly wearing off and a cheshire cat like grin spreading across my mouth. I don’t waste time playing games and put them out of their misery. With a face splitting smile still stretched over my face, I announce, “It turns out the little witch didn’t summon just any old demons, per se. It’s much better than that. Our Livvie mistakenly asked her Grimoire to summon her consorts.”
Wicked Tales Anthology Page 31