Page 47 of Black Onyx
“I thought we needed to leave?” I ask the others who are already out here doing various things to prepare. My question is met with silence, and I tilt my head to the side questioningly as I look over them, waiting for them to reply. When no one answers me after five minutes, and they’re still staring, I ask, “what?”
That finally seems to snap them out of it and, for some reason, has Storm suddenly very focused on whatever he’s cooking on the stove, a different kind of spark burning between his horns, it’s almost smouldering. Rival and Mayhem’s cheeks turn slightly pink, and they busy themselves by readying their empty weapons harnesses. Reaper just looks at me with a hungry look in his eyes, leaving Loki and Killian to share a loaded look and what I can only describe as a downright filthy smirk.
“You look fucking stunning,” Loki practically growls.
“I’m half tempted to say fuck it to this bullshit mission and spend my day worshipping you instead,” Killian adds.
My thighs clench. I know first hand how well he can make my body fucking sing for him, and the thought of actually having him inside me almost make me take him up on the offer.
“Fucking hell.” Storm mutters loud enough to hear from the kitchen area of the room, “the food is ready; we need to get going. Grab your bag from your room and put it by the front door.” He says to me surprisingly with no underlying tone.
"I have everything I need,” I reply, taking a seat at the table and loading my plate up with food like the others.
He eyes me up and down for longer than strictly necessary and then scoffs. Ah, here comes the insult I was missing in the first instance.
“You’ve only got three weapons Princess, rookie move.”
“Storm, we’ve only got the one each that we store in our rooms. She’s got more than us. Could you give it a rest? She can pick up more in the armoury like we’re going to.” Mayhem snaps, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him even vaguely lose his cool. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in a fight.
I stand up, having finished my breakfast already since I practically inhaled it and didn’t bother to stop eating when Storm started in on me.
Giving Storm a level look, I say, “I am getting really fed up with you fucking underestimating me all the time. I’m used to it from other people, but whether you like me or not, we are still a team, and we cannot afford to question or doubt each other.”
Storm’s eyebrows rise slightly at my words.
Not giving him a chance to reply, I move over to the coffee table and start to take off all my weapons, laying them all on the table and even taking the hairpins out that double as a garrote. By the time I’m done, the table is almost overflowing. Reaper lets out an impressed whistle as I turn back to the guys.
“As you can see, I am more than prepared for any eventuality and will not be needing to go to the armoury.”
“I apologise,” Storm says, shocking me as his eyes don’t leave me, and he misses the reaction his words have on the others. “You are right. Underestimating each other could be dangerous out in the field.”
Despite my shock, I manage to reply, “Thank you.”
“Well fuck me sideways; Storm apologised and said someone else was right. You must be something special, Little Warrior.” Reaper grins.
I decide it might be best to ignore that comment since Storm is being friendly for a change, and I don’t want to push it. I quickly put all my weapons back where they belong.
“If you guys have got another backpack, I’m happy to help carry some stuff,” I say, gesturing needlessly to the pile of bags by the door.
“Sure, hang on,” Rival says, getting up and making his way to his room. He comes back out and hands me a small leather bag that will fit comfortably on my back and not restrict my movement so I can still access my swords with it on, perfect.
“Shall I just take something out of each bag?” I ask.
“Put what you need in it first, and then we can fill up whatever space is left.”
“I really do have everything I need.” I reply, and then because of the sceptical look he gives me, I add, “I’ve gone out with less for longer.”
“What do you mean?” Reaper asks, joining the conversation and tilting his head to the side in a purely animal gesture.
I realise my mistake immediately. I don’t want them to know about how early my father was sending me out on assassinations or how many I’ve done. Even Killian doesn’t know the extent of it, although I'm sure he’s guessed. I haven’t been as careful with my words around him as I am with everyone else, which is probably why I keep slipping up now I’m used to speaking more freely around him.
“It doesn’t matter. Just share out what’s already in the bags. At least it’ll be less for each of us to carry then.” I pray that they both let it go because I absolutely don’t want to explain anything right now. My past is bloody, and if I questioned whether Storm hated me before, I do not doubt that he definitely will after he finds out that part of my dark past.
Rival nods and takes the bag back, going over to the door to start sharing the stuff out evenly between them all. Reaper, though continues to stare at me, his eyes narrowed slightly, his nostrils flare as he takes a deep inhale and it's at that moment that I realise that whatever kind of shifter he is, he can smell emotions and usually only Alpha’s can, which solidifies my original theory that he might be one.
It's on the tip of my tongue to ask him once and for all what he is, but the words catch in my throat as he takes a large step toward me, and I have to tilt my head up to meet his penetrating stare. Surprise flares to life in his yellow eyes as I simply stand there staring up at his massive figure without backing up or looking nervous. He doesn’t scare me. In fact, I’m curious about him, and if I’m being completely honest, I find him seriously fucking hot. The fact that he looks like he could lift me easily with one hand is a massive contributing factor, that and his arms are the size of my thighs.
I stay deathly still as he bends down, hooking one giant arm around my waist at the same time his lips graze my ear.
