Page 73 of Shadow Caster
“In that case, I’m going to lie down for a couple of hours.” Lloyd looked to the other nightbloods. “You guys can get some shut-eye too if you want.”
Thomas gave Harmon a questioning look, but the moonkissed’s attention was on his java.
Things had been strained between those two. I’d stayed out of it, but the look of pain that flitted across Thomas’s face at Harmon’s disinterest made my heart ache for him. If they’d been regular Nightwatch cadets, then I’d have said best to nip this in the bud—there was no future for them outside of here. But they were shadow cadets. If we survived, this would be our home for the next twenty years. There was no reason for them not to be together.
“I guess I’ll grab some rest,” Thomas finally said. He glanced at Harmon one more time, but the moonkissed merely nodded and sipped his coffee.
Ouch.
Thomas headed to the dorm.
Carlo stretched. “Yep. I’ll take that lie-down. What about you, Justice? Want to come snuggle?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I smiled sweetly and fluttered my lashes. “I can snuggle my fist in your face?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “She loves O neg. She curses like a dude, and she doesn’t take my shit. I’ve found my perfect nightblood, and she’s totally friend zoned me.”
I resisted the urge to muss up his blond hair. He was brash and loud, but he was fucking adorable. But like hell would I tell him I thought that. He blew me a kiss and headed out of the room.
Brady fixed his dark eyes on me. “If you’re staying up, take control room duty with Harmon.” He drained his mug. “Devon and Aidan, do a run.”
Devon stretched, leaning his head from side to side to loosen his muscles. “I could do with a run.”
It took a moment to click that they meant in wolf form. I hadn’t seen their wolves before. Harmon looked torn, like he wanted to join them.
“I can handle the control room solo.” I shrugged.
Brady ran a hand over his tight curls. “Harmon, go run.”
Harmon’s shoulders relaxed. The three moonkissed headed for the armor room, and the exit to the mist.
And then it dawned on me that Brady and I were alone. He set his mug in the sink and stood with his back to me. He was broad, and the shirt clung to him in all the right places, making it easy to see how built the guy was.
His shoulders rose and fell, and as he turned to face me, his hand went to the scar at his neck and rubbed it in a gesture I’d caught many times. I doubted he even realized he was doing it.
“Want some company in the control room?” he asked.
If I were clumsy and inept, I probably would have choked on my tongue because Brady was offering to hang out with me.
Brady, who spoke no more words than necessary, wanted to sit in a room with me … voluntarily.
Keep it cool, Justice. “Sure.”
* * *
Hanging with Brady was simple.No need to speak. No need to make polite chitchat. There was just the beep of the monitors, a book, and two mugs of java.
Out of Lloyd’s troop, he was now my second favorite hang-out buddy. Brady time was quiet time but with company. It was kinda perfect, and I felt my muscles unknotting and the tension leaving my body, and then my mind began to wander.
What kind of feyblood was he? He wasn’t legacy, I knew that much. And he had a temper. Devon and Aidan were Opal pack, and Carlo was a Hartwood, but Brady kept his cards close to his chest. I studied him surreptitiously. His dark, bronzed skin, his harsh, bold features, and those dark eyes like a vast night sky. What could his heritage be?
“Stop thinking so hard.” Brady’s voice was a gruff rumble. “You got questions, then ask.”
“That easy, huh?”
He turned the page of his book. “Yup.”
“What kind of feyblood are you?”
