Page 32 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
“Ignore them. You can sit with us.” A high voice flowed behind me with such gentleness I wished I could bake it into one of those heavenly-smelling pastries lying in piles on the black table. I could practically feel how a flaky puff imbued with her kindness would warm me from the inside out. It wouldn’t even need a filling. Her voice would serve as it.
I turned around to find a tiny woman—exactly the size of those cream puffs I loved. She barely reached my chin, but that tenderness of hers seeped from every pore of her delicate face,framed by the chocolate bangs tickling her forehead and running down to her dimpled chin.
“I’m Eislyn. These are Eli, Ezra, Jayla, and, well, you’ve already met Ryder.” She pointed out the people lounging around in the coziest room I’d ever been in.
Large corner lamps cast a soft glow on the dark gray walls covered in paint brush swirls, as if someone had lost their patience and made a mess. The faint illumination sent the rest of the room into a comforting dimness as intricate cut-outs decorated the light gray lamp shades, the carved-out holes summoning shadows to twirl on the walls in a hypnotizing dance.
“And, well”—Eislyn glimpsed behind me—“we kind of know your name, but what is it?” Words spilled from her small mouth so fast that the last few tangled together.
“If you know, then why do you ask?” I gave her a once-over, noting her faded denim shorts almost hidden by the white-and-yellow-striped t-shirt falling to her upper thighs. So my dark purple set of clothes hadn’t come from her. “You don’t have to act politely with me. I may sit at this table and eat your food, but I assure you, I’m not here of my own will. Give me a day, and I will level this place to the ground.”
They could pretend to be friendly, but I didn’t choose to be here. They had taken me away, and everyone here had made their peace with it, including the petite woman and her kind voice.
I dragged my gaze from her mouth hanging open at my proclamation to the rest of the room. Closest to my left, a lean but harshly toned man sat behind the long, battered ebony table with steel legs.
Blond waves draped over his temples and hugged his shoulders hidden by the blue t-shirt, but they couldn’t mask the alertness wafting off him, the disquieting stillness in him, theway the corners of his eyes crinkled in his intense evaluation of me, how his thin lips tensed and stretched the raised scar running from their right corner to his jaw covered by a faint stubble.
He was the personification of a protective fence, like Ilasall’s wall.
“Nice to finally meet someone with such passion and eagerness.” A man sitting on the other side of the unoccupied chair attracted my attention. “It’s refreshing.” He stretched his pale lips into a smile. They looked bloodless, like it’d been a while since their last meal.
I wanted that meal of blood too. I’d dreamt about it every night since the nightmares had begun. Thirteen years without food to placate your hunger or blood to quench your thirst steered your ambitions to become deadly.
He hooked his light brown hands on his nape, below a low and messy bun of frizzy hair. “Ezra, by the way.” He jerked his chin toward the curly blond hound of a person on his right. “He’s Eli.”
Behind them, a lanky woman lounged on a dark gray velvet couch, her legs propped on the backrest and her head hanging upside down from the edge. You’d skip right over her if not for the mass of flaming hair flowing down to the floor.
She had to be Jayla.
“How much longer do we have to wait? I’m freaking famished. She’s awake and understandably wants to kill Gedeon and Zion, so can we just help her finish this and eat?” Jayla rested a hand on her chest. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last before starvation claims me.” She rolled onto her side and jumped from the couch, her movements throwing half of the white-and-black pillows onto the hardwood floor. Heading to Eli, she whispered something in his ear that made him laugh—as if she was someone he actually liked having around for no other purposethan her being her—and plopped down in the seat across from him.
I jerked at the realization, snapping my gaze to my captor hovering at his post in the doorway.
He dipped his chin, the curl of his thick brownish-pink lips betraying his amusement. “Nice to meet you.”
Arrogant bastard.
“Wish I could say the same,” I deadpanned. “Jayla may be dramatic, but I’d like to take her on her offer. I’m sure I can spare her life in exchange for support.”
So he was called Gedeon.
That meant step one was complete. Three more until my escape.
Two. Who was everyone else?
Three. Where was I? What was this place?
Four. Why was I here?
“That sounds like a plan. Want any help?” Zion led me toward the table and sat down near Ryder. His thumbs kneaded my waist in an attempt to pull me down into his lap. Yet the sensation was utterly different from what I was used to in Ilasall. Demanding but…safe?
Which was freaking me out and freezing my tongue.
Silent or not, I didn’t belong here. This wasn’t a friendly visit to your friends. Not that I had them in the first place. I had to get out of here, find my way back to Ilasall, and make those heads roll.
Giving up, he pulled out a chair from underneath the table. “I promise, I don’t bite. Well, only a little bit. But in a good way.”
He should meetmyteeth. They’d rip his throat out.
