Blood Trinity (Belador #1)(64)
Quinn cleared his throat. “Evalle, darling, you may need prescription glasses after all. That creature is not attractive.”
“He is to me,” she whispered, then smiled at Quinn, who groused about most of her choices in life. He hated that she wouldn’t let him hire people to finish the interior of this place or buy any furnishings. She did allow him and Tzader to give her plants, which was why it looked more like a jungle than a home.
“Food, Evalle?” Tzader reminded her.
She swung around, grinning. “I’ve got frozen pizzas.”
Neither of the men made a sign of interest. She added, “And, I stocked my bar. I’ll throw in a Boodles and water for Quinn and a Guinness—on draft, no less—for you, Z.”
“Now you’re talking.” Tzader stretched out again, propping his feet on the arm at one end.
“With enough Boodles, I can eat anything.” Quinn waved at her dismissively.
“Wouldn’t want to ruin your taste buds for caviar,” Tzader muttered.
“Or yours for Vienna sausage.” Reclined and with eyes at half-mast, Quinn stretched his hands along the chair arms, as if he enjoyed the pedestrian furniture more than he wanted her to know.
“What happened with Sen?” Tzader asked before she left.
“It’ll hold until I get food cooking and your drinks.”
Tzader made a noise of acceptance.
Evalle headed for the kitchen and paused when she remembered the treat in her pocket. “Feenix?”
The gargoyle looked up, eyes round with anticipation.
How could someone not love him?
She dug out the lug nut she’d found and pitched it in the air.
His tongue shot out, swiping the nugget out of midair and into his mouth. He made an “mm,” sound and his cheek fattened as if he was sucking on a caramel.
“Was that a steel lug nut?” Quinn missed nothing.
“Yes. He loves anything silver.”
“Oh, good Goddess …” Quinn mumbled something else she laughed at, and she went to the kitchen.
Her heart warmed at the strange feeling flooding through her. Happiness. What a time to finally be happy when she might be dead or caged in three days.
She got busy heating the oven. She had Quinn to thank for the stainless steel chef’s kitchen, since it was already here when she moved in. He and Tzader had only stopped by twice since she’d moved in four months ago, never staying long.
Could it have been fear of being invited to eat again after what she’d cooked the first time? Who knew duck smelled that bad when it burned?
She pulled a mug out of the cabinet and started the slow process of pouring a Guinness draft between pushing pizzas into the oven and mixing Quinn’s drink.
Having company tonight after the harrowing Tribunal meeting was … nice.
Quinn and Tzader could visit her sanctuary whenever they wanted, but no others. Even after two years, she didn’t know much about their backgrounds, but she did know the one thing that mattered—that she could trust these two without question.
When Tzader had a chance to transfer her to the southeastern division, she’d accepted immediately, moving across country at night over three days. That had been five months ago. After arriving in Atlanta, she’d found a gym where she could work out and shower at night. Then, during the day, she’d slept in a climate-controlled storage space nearby, where she’d had a bedroll and a bag of clothes.
Same thing she’d been doing since she’d started living on her own at eighteen.
When she’d put them off about coming by where she’d been staying, they’d tracked her down to the storage locker.
Quinn had at first been appalled, then angry, then he’d just sighed and told her, “Prepare to move in twenty-four hours.”
Tzader had refused to even discuss another option.
She’d finally agreed under the one condition that she paid for the apartment. No charity deals and no owing anyone. She’d live in a storage room or worse the rest of her life before she’d ever be at anyone’s mercy.
No one would ever own her life again.
She’d never shared the ugly details about her childhood that drove her to remain independent.
Not even with these two men.
Quinn had assured her he had a location that was within her budget, and he’d even swap out some of the rent if she’d keep an eye on several of his parking garages.
That’s how she’d ended up in a place with all the charm of a fallout shelter, which was paradise compared to the claustrophobic hole she’d spent twenty-four hours a day in for eighteen years. She had over two thousand square feet here she could do with as she pleased. On her limited budget, that meant very little.
Eventually, she’d turn this into a true sanctuary.
If the Tribunal didn’t decide to lock her away.
If so, Brina would put her somewhere no one could find her. Not even Tzader.
Evalle squeezed the dish towel in her hand. If that happened …
Something tapped her on the leg, breaking her out of the desperation cartwheeling through her chest.
Feenix stood there with his alligator baby tucked under one arm. His eyes drooped, a sign he was unhappy or worried.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
He leaned his head against her leg and patted her foot, something he’d done the last time she’d come home shaken up after the Tribunal had yanked her in for a meeting.