Page 14 of Who Owns You?

“No, but your face got all weird.” His features scrunch up, as if he’s in agony.

“Why are you both making that face?” Julius asks, his hands busy in front of him with some knitting project.

I can hardly track the movements of his forest-green fingers as they race through row after row of stitches.

“I’m mocking him,” Atlas says, then yelps when Darius smacks him in the back of the head.

“I’m not making a face. You’re being weird.” I drop my face into my hands and do my best to school my expression into something else.

Think of puppies and rainbows and the smell of the earth after it rains.The tension in my shoulders melts away like butter under a hot knife, and I can feel the muscles in my face relax. All my hard work almost gets ruined when Darius swings his dour face my way again.

“Separate now.” He jerks his head to the side, using one of his exceptionally tall horns to point to the opposite side of the attic.

Atlas rolls his eyes but complies with the command, flipping our leader the bird the entire way.

Pressing my back into the wall, I sink to the floor and rest my chin on my knees. Forgetting my football leaves me with nothing to do but sit with my thoughts.

“I can’t wait for the day those two go to blows,” Julius says, lowering himself down beside me and sparing me from gazing back into the well of thoughts filled with the pretty witch.

“Darius will win,” I say blandly.

“And that’s what we need. Atlas has got to accept his position as the youngest and get over himself.” He grouses, knitting needles clicking more harshly as he bites out his words.

“Atlas would die if he had to be less broody and melodramatic.” I snicker.

I love my nest-mates, but I have to remind myself extra hard when it comes to Atlas.

“You’ve taken up a broody position too.” Julius lifts a brow.

Behind the golden octagonal frames of his glasses, his eyes are intense… like he’s trying to read my mind. I grunt, shaking my head. It would be a great thing if he could actually read my thoughts. Then he’d see our mate and understand just why I’m “brooding.” She’s perfect, and I’m just collecting dust, like an old Christmas tree in the attic.

“I get to sulk a little. I don’t have anything to do.” I flap my hands in the direction of his knitting and then to Darius and Atlas, who are likewise occupied with their own distractions. Darius doesn’t take time for actual hobbies, so he brought an old clock he’s been repairing, and Atlas always seems content to sit beside a window and contemplate existence. Being a gargoyle is one of the most frustrating magical middle spaces to occupy. There are those who are made and those who are born, indistinguishable from one another once they reach adulthood and find their nest-mates, but before that, some purists can be wicked bastards.

“Hold my wool?” He lifts his pinkie to point at the little spooled ball between us on the floor.

I scoop it up and blow some dust bunnies off it. The soft material in my hard fingers is a contrast I always love.

“You honor me.” I tease him.

Julius snorts and knocks his bejeweled horns against my much plainer ones. The little zip of sensation is more akin to a tickle than pain, but I jump, tail flicking hard against the wall.

“Hold the wool and look pretty, Marcus. Talking isn’t necessary,” he says with a roll of his eyes as he sets about making…well, whatever he’s making.

It’s blobby at the current moment, far too shapeless to tell what it will become in a few days or weeks. The jumper he made me last Christmas is still one of my favorites, though I don’t get much wear out of it. Can’t exactly play footie in a one-hundred-percent wool fiber jumper and expect it to be as nice as when you first got it.

“A blanket?” I ask, hazarding a guess.

“I’m not sure, actually. I was originally going to make a wrap or a scarf, but then I got distracted and added too many rows, so now it’s just…actually, yes, it’s going to be a blanket.” He smiles. “Have any use for it?”

Building a beautiful nest for our mate.

I shrug a shoulder, trying to keep the heat bubbling in my magical blood from flushing my cheeks a bright orange. I cough to cover the swell of feeling and nod.

“I’ll figure some use out for it. I’d like it a lot.”

“Consider it yours, then.”

I’m going to lose my mind.

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