King Cave (Forever Evermore, #2)(20)
Ezra eventually left the bed to flip the switch, turning off the glittering golden lights, and only the stars and moon of the spelled ceiling lit his way back through the debris.
My eyes met his troubled gaze as he crawled back in beside Jack.
Without a sound he lifted one of his hands and rested it on Pearl’s side, his fingertips grazing mine in a comforting gesture, before he intertwined our fingers. Our eyes held the truth now. We had both been drawn back into our own haunted memories of when we had lost our mates; the actions of tonight had brought them to the fore. But together, in due course, we fell asleep alongside our heartsick besties.
English accented cursing woke me.
Rolling away from Jack and blinking, I opened sleep-blurry eyes to see Pearl glowing golden in the living room area, one of the couches she had demolished last evening wavering and materializing back into shape…except it didn’t look quite right. It was too long and the color was navy. I watched as she jerked an agitated hand — she was still in her clothes from the previous evening, her golden hair askew around her face — and the couch darkened to black. It was still too long.
She cursed again.
Gently leaving the bed, being careful not to wake Jack or Ezra, I padded toward her on silent feet, but gave her plenty of space, since she wore the furious expression of the tormented. “Pearl,” I whispered, the sun beginning to rise above us and giving enough light from the yellow, orange, and blue ceiling for her to see me clearly, “May I help you?”
Her jaw clenched, and she flicked her hand. The couch turned purple. “I’m trying to clean up the mess.” Another twitch of her hand, and the couch went black and only three cushions long, appearing as it did normally. She nodded once, crossing her arms.
“I can see that,” I murmured softly, prudently, because she was still glowing. “Is there anything I may do to help?”
Perhaps make sure you don’t harm yourself from Mage energy? I wasn’t sure that was possible, but right now her expression didn’t bode well. She appeared a bit crazed.
Her lips pursed and her gold eyes darted, never staying too long on one area of the hazard zone that had become our living room. “You could dust.” Her words held finality. She raised her hands and a bottle of Windex and a washcloth appeared in her grip. She held them out. “Take the couch first while I continue with the other furniture.”
Who the hell cleans leather with Windex? Not to mention, it wasn’t dirty. But…yeah. I would clean alongside her and watch to make sure she didn’t take one of the shards of glass from the shattered coffee table and do something unforgivable.
Taking the items from her hands, I mumbled, “Alright.”
So I cleaned.
And cleaned.
And dusted some more while she spent an hour figuring the correct way the golden imperial chair had been…and she went through many different variations.
Jack rolled in bed once, slitting open his red rimmed eyes, only to roll back over.
Pearl handed me a lint brush and pointed at the — now — perfect golden chair.
With hands reeking of Windex, of which half the bottle had gone to scrubbing the couch, I nodded dutifully and started rolling the lint brush meticulously over the spotless golden cushion. Listening to Pearl curse repeatedly as she started on the brown leather love seat — all the while wishing she would fix the damn coffee table so there weren’t so many sharp objects lying about — I bent to reach the golden legs of the chair. Without warning, heated hands rested on my hips and muscled legs brushed the backs of mine. After scenting the air to confirm the individual’s identity, I tilted my head to the side when Ezra leaned over me.
Against my ear, he whispered, “You got this?”
“Have been for the last hour,” I murmured, glancing at Pearl. “Can you handle Jack?”
“Yeah.” Ezra’s heavy sigh was stricken, his warm breath fanning against my neck. “I’m going to find a TV to bring in here. I don’t think he’s getting out of bed for a while. He’s lying awake over there, staring at his hand.”
Straightening, I popped my back, then relaxed against Ezra’s solid strength. He gently massaged my cramped back muscles as we contemplated the new sunlight and the crystal clear blue sky above us. I whispered, “It’s hard to believe beauty can still exist when the world is so bleak.”
He hummed lightly as we watched a bird fly across the sky. “It’s the beauty that helps us return from the harshness. If it wasn’t there, we would have nothing to live for.” With ease, he brushed his lips against the side of my neck. “I’m going to take a shower, then find us a TV.”
The actions of our brief conversation were so domesticated, so normal, during this turbulent time; it was exactly what I needed to fortify myself to be who Pearl needed.
I went back to cleaning.
A knock sounded on our door two hours later. I was still helping Pearl, while Ezra sat next to Jack on the bed flipping through channels on the flat screen TV he had found, trying to find a station that didn’t show anything about the riots. The television hung suspended in the air between two dressers.
At the sound of the knock, Ezra and I both froze. Jack didn’t move, which wasn’t surprising, and Pearl continued muttering to herself and pulling on her hair as she — finally — attempted to get the coffee table back to rights. My eyes swung to Ezra, and he blinked, staring at something on the wall. He pointed in the direction of the closets while saying softly, “Your name’s glowing above your closet.”