Page 44 of Randall
Yes, but also no.She sent mental snickers, and Darvon jumped right to the conclusion she meant the no in regards to Sylvan.You must inform the others.She jumped to the floor and strode toward the door. Randall followed, pausing with his hand on the knob when she turned back, her violet gaze landing on each of them. When Randall opened the door, she stepped out but stopped on the threshold and looked back at them again.Congratulations on your mating.Her whiskers twitched, and she meowed before scampering away.
No time like the present.Determined to get “informing the others” out of the way, Darvon rose from the bed and gathered his clothes.
“What are you doing?” Flynn asked.
“You heard Kat. We have to let the others know. If we do it now, then we won’t have to stop later to tell them.”
Flynn rolled off the bed, landing lightly on his feet. He stopped in front of Darvon and lifted onto his toes to kiss him. “I like the way you think.” He gave him one more peck, then searched for some clothes, grabbing Darvon’s tunic and pulling it on.
Darvon stared at his mate wearing his clothes. With only the single tunic that wasn’t even his, Flynn was the first one ready to go, but that wasn’t what had surprised him. Seeing the fabric slide down to cover their marks, and seeing his clothes wrapped around their mate, a punch of possessiveness hit Darvon square in the chest, stealing the air from his lungs.
Randall’s husky chuckle and hum of approval when he stepped behind Darvon, leaning into him, his breath hot on Darvon’s neck, sent a shiver of want through him. Thankfully, Randall put his arms around Darvon because when his knees went weak,his mind went fuzzy, and his cock stirred mightily, his mate was there to catch him.
Flynn sauntered over and pressed himself to Darvon’s front, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down to kiss him hungrily. Darvon got lost in the softness of Flynn’s lips, the taste of him, the hard grip of his hands.
“Fuck,” he moaned the moment they parted. “Let’s get back into bed.”
Smiling, Flynn shook his head, taking a step back. “You’re just filled with wonderful ideas tonight, but your first one was better. Let’s tell the others now, then we can spend the rest of the night together without interruption.”
“Fine,” Darvon grunted.
Randall slipped around to stand beside Darvon. “You are nothing like what I imagined the Fae to be like, but I only have Jarrah to compare you to. He is much more… stoic.”
“A stick in the mud? Absolutely no fun? Yes and yes,” Darvon agreed. “That’s what happens when you’re the oldest and expected to rule.”
“You’re the complete opposite.” Randall kissed his cheek.
Darvon wobbled his head. “I’m responsible when I have to be. Like now.” He straightened his spine and headed for the door. “Ready?” They followed him out into the hall, where he stopped, unsure which way to go.
Randall closed his eyes, turned slowly, and then pointed halfway down the hallway. “There.”
Flynn knocked, and they waited for the shouting for them to go away to fade while they laughed and pounded on the door some more. The grumpy pout that greeted them as the door was yanked open tumbled them into another fit of laughter.
Artor crossed his arms over his bare chest and growled. “What?”
“Be nice,” Timur said, coming to stand behind Artor and putting his arms around his mate. Darvon didn’t miss how Artor’s fierce demeanor crumpled when a shirtless Timur pressed against his back. “You know they wouldn’t be interrupting their own night if it wasn’t important.”
“Fine,” Artor grumbled. “Is there a problem? I assumed we’d be waiting for Marius and his mates.”
Another door opened, and Duke poked his head out. “What’s going on? Whatever it is, shouldn’t we wait for Quinn and his mates?”
Darvon pressed his lips together, amused by the way each of them put their friends first, regarding Jarrah’s mating with Marius, the vampire, and Quinn, the wolf. Hell, he’d done it himself.
“Oh, good,” Randall said to Duke. “Get your mates. I have information.”
Duke ducked back into his room, and after some muttered dialogue and a descriptive curse, Valter and Baron emerged with him.
“Can’t this wait?” Baron snapped. “Valter’s exhausted.”
Valter rolled his eyes and jabbed Baron with his elbow. “I said I wasn’t.”
“You didn’t want se—”
Valter slapped a hand over Duke’s mouth. “Seriously, Duke?”
Duke peeled Valter’s hand away, revealing a broad, cocky grin, which he aimed at his mate. “Sorry.”
Valter harrumphed, glaring at his mates. By the time he turned to face Randall, he’d schooled his expression into one Darvon would recognize anywhere: regal stoicism. “We’re listening.”
