Page 105 of Those That Are Lost
I feel for Henry next, the connection I now have to him telling me his proximity to me. He is downstairs by the strength of the bond.
I stand, stretching my underused body. Being cramped up in this house is getting to me in more ways than one. The shadows, which I’ve pretty much left loose since Red left, prance around my feet as I go in search of Henry to update him on the positive news.
CHAPTER 41
AURORA
“Ithink this makes it three-nil.” I dance around the table, potting the final ball and raising the stick above my head in celebration. Antares shoots me a thoroughly pissed off look as he stares at most of his balls still decorating the pool table.
We’d been in the common room most days. And most evenings. Adicious wasn’t keen on letting me know much about the business he got up to during the day. From the guys, I’ve managed to discern that most of them worked some form of manual job and their money was controlled by Adicious. What he did with all the income remained a mystery to me and was a source of tension in the pack.
From the state of the run-down house, it wasn’t like the money was being used to renovate. And it’s not like they had to buy food. Yes, there would be utilities and this place was rather large but there were several incomes to cover it and I’m sure there would be surplus.
“I’m not playing again,” Antares moans, leaning his pool queue against the table. I wasn’t a great player but turns out he’s even worse than me.
We’d been playing for a while, the common room hadbeen empty until our last game when Mitch and a couple of the others had wandered in for some blood. They’re sitting over on one of the beat up sofas on the other side of the room. I lift my chin in their direction indicating to Antares that we should talk to the group.
We’d been trying our best to mingle as much as possible. Some of the males have taken to us both easier than others. All had shown surprise at my reappearance, and even more so at my companion.
There was a weird atmosphere whenever Adicious was in the room with us. I saw several pack members shoot secret looks or purposefully not catch my eye contact. Mitch had informed us that we’d caused quite a stir, particularly Antares’s flex of power on our arrival. Adicious had laid out the law even harder and demonstrated his dominance by being even more physically dominating with the pack.
It made me sick with anger that some of these males had been subject to his fists because of me showing up.
To my face, Adicious had switched tactics. He was being sickeningly charming and pretending that me not immediately bending to his leadership, and therefore his fangs, was all part of his intended plan. And he made no secret of ensuring the pack knew it was me holding them up from becoming more powerful. The dick was a true class manipulator.
“How’s it going?” I address the three males as I take a seat amongst their group. They all immediately bow their heads and drop their eyes—it's unnerving. I want to prod Mitch, and tell him to cut it out, but I have to keep up the facade that we haven’t been together for the last week.
“We’re good, thank you,” the older looking male to Mitch’s left answers. His name is Bartosz but several call him Bartie. “Have you settled in well?”
“Getting used to it,” I say with a shrug. Bartie is one wethink might not enjoy Adicious’s rule. Ty barely spoke to him but Atlas told me he’s always keeping his head down and doesn’t really join in. He’s nearly five hundred years old and only joined the pack for protection at the end of the war when Adicious started collecting bonds.
“Do you want some blood?” Mitch offers me his glass. He’s already drunk some of it so I don’t think it’ll have been tampered with. Grateful, I nod and take the tumbler from him.
We chat for a while, Antares joining us and making the conversation flow easier. Considering how much time he spent getting into fights on the continent, he really can work a crowd and get them opening up when he’s trying.
The third male in the group, Jackson, doesn’t say much and keeps his gaze tilted down but seems sweet enough. He’s sporting a deep purple eye on his pale skin and is quite lean in stature. He tries joining in a few times but catches himself and shrinks back, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing and so purposefully withdraws.
I move from my seat to perch on the coffee table next to him as Antares and Mitch enter a debate about some sports team I have zero interest in.
“How long have you been here?” I ask what I hope is a simple innocuous question.
“About seven years,” Jackson mumbles, and fiddles with the glass in his hands. I don’t like that he won’t even look at me. It doesn’t sit right that he’s clearly intimidated by me.
“What do you do?” I try again with another simple question.
“I… er…” He stumbles. I really feel for the guy. He’d been talking to the other males fine before we came over. I hate that I’m making him this nervous and want to put him at ease. “I work in a bar in town. The same one Mitch sometimes works at too.”
“That’s cool. One I would know? I used to go out frequently as a student.” I take a sip of the blood in my hands and keep my voice easy.
“It’s a bit of a dive, not many students come to it. It’s more of a biker bar.”
“Is that how you got the black eye?”
“No,” he gives me a clipped answer.
Bartie overhears that bit. “No, that was the work of Cairn,” he says, with a level of anger in his voice which warms me to him even more.
“Why?” I press.
