Chosen Fool (Forever Evermore #5)(44)

My lips pinched. “You know what they say about old dogs that bring new tricks to the bedroom.”

“I’m not old.” He waved a wobbling hand. Fell on his side. “And I hide nothing from her.”

My attention swung to the wary gaze of my King. “You ready? It’s your turn.”

King Zeller sang drunkenly from the ground, “Here come the water…water…water.”

Brann’s wolf growled. “Shut. Up. People.”

Before King Collins could protest—because he appeared to be about to—I yanked his face down and planted my mouth on his, luckily catching him with an open mouth as he was mid-protest. As with any turned on water Elemental, the sound of waves crashing instantly echoed in the room as I blew into his mouth. His hands flew to my cheeks and into my hair, gripping tight until I stopped. He stumbled backward, tripping over King Zeller, and flopped onto his back. He stayed there as he stared at the ceiling, while King Zeller laughed his ass off. The sound of the ocean was still heard faintly in the room. King Collins muttered, “I’m so writing this down about spirits.”

Snorting softly, I turned and headed to Elder Merrick where he was resting against the windowsill. Just watching. Like he always was. “Ready?”

He grunted. The man of many words.

“Hey, you made a sound. We’re getting somewhere.”

No comment.

Not even a grunt this time.

“Well, one step forward and two steps back. And all that shit.”

I didn’t peer into his eyes. They were trapping pools of complexity.

When I placed my lips on his, I tried not to freeze at their delectable softness.

Those lips were made for sinful pleasures.

His wolf huffed long and hard as my power filled him—and it was a possibility I took a little longer than I did with the others. It was out of spite. The lone wolf deserved it.

His hands crushed the windowsill he was holding on to, the wood creaking beneath his strong grip. Then it splintered and broke, shredded wood slivers littering the ground.

When I pulled away, he still said nothing. His gaze instantly landed on the carpet beneath his feet, and he shook his head roughly. Definitely a wolf in there.

I took the liberty to pat his broad shoulder. “That was fun, huh?”

His wolf…kind of…huffed.

I tried not to laugh. The man wouldn’t admit it, but his wolf was affected.

Rolling my head on my shoulders and staring at the incapacitated powerful men around the room, I muttered, “I have to prepare for the performance of my f*cking life.” With that, I lay down on the vacant couch and stared at the ceiling, trying to numb myself to the absolute betrayal, the anger and disgust coursing through my system, and the definite mental collapse I would eventually have when it was safe to. The men didn’t bother me while they periodically chuckled or griped or sang from their positions, now protected from the Walker who could no longer read their minds.





Chapter Sixteen

Breathing in steadily, I stared a bit vacantly at the door to the private dining hall, the room reserved for us to eat dinner in. Elder Farrar had spelled the room for privacy and protection—that was his story, since we had been attacked just yesterday. Everyone was already in there, including Tristan since Brann had said later the tiger also smelled of death. I had hid in Elder Farrar’s room, and then my own room, when everyone had gone to work doing as I had ordered, but I knew I couldn’t stall any longer. With my white solace wrapped around me as tightly as I could, as I had been doing all afternoon, I opened the door and walked inside.

All eyes turned to me as I made my way toward the table.

I headed straight for Leric—the Walker—and smiled at him peacefully.

He stood and in a gallant move pulled my chair out for me.

I murmured, “Sorry I’m late. I was taking a nap and overslept.”

“That’s all right.” He placed his hand on my back, helping me take my seat.

I was so proud I didn’t completely lose it at his touch, not even outwardly shuddering like my insides did. I peered down at my food, asking him, “You ordered for me?”

He held up a hand. “Don’t be mad. I just knew you’d want to eat if everyone else was.”

“Right.” I glanced at his plate—chicken fettuccini. Mine was a hamburger. “Thank you.”

He draped his napkin on his lap. “I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure what you would want, so if you want to switch we can.”

I blinked up into his silver eyes. “No.” I grabbed my napkin, placing it on my lap.

He tilted his head to peer into my eyes. “Are you all right, Sprite? You seem a little distant.”

“I’m still tired from yesterday. I could have slept even longer than I did.”

“Ah,” he whispered. I tried to keep my body relaxed as he bent, placing his lips on my temple. “Are you still mad at me? Or have I been forgiven?”

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, keeping my head dipped. “I guess we’ll see.” I nudged his arm, lifting my own burger. “Try to behave with your parents here.” I looked up, making my lips curve. “Or forgiveness won’t happen. Ever.”

He winked. “Duly noted.”

He started eating as I did.