Even as I consider all of this while putting on a second coat of mascara—I still believe deep down in my gut that she’s my sister and rescuing her is not only the right thing to do morally, but I also just feel like she’s important to me in a way I can’t fathom at this time.
But right now, I am done making myself pretty. I take a slightly vain moment to congratulate myself for not only making the effort, but also for succeeding. Fallon would have been proud. I also take the tiniest second to acknowledge that I’m really doing this to please Carrick, and not because I enjoyed the alone time in my bathroom.
Whatever.
I can’t help it if I like the way his eyes light up when they land on me, and I’ll own up to the fact that it might make me shallow. But Carrick is a once-in-a-lifetime gift I’ve been given, and I’m going to enjoy every single moment of it until I’m called forth to my sacrifice.
I dress in a pair of skinny jeans, a pair of ballet flats, and even more out of the norm for me, a frilly cream-colored blouse that’s a little on the sheer side.
I stop in the kitchen to grab an apple from a basket on the counter. I expect if Zaid were in there, he’d offer to cook me a late breakfast, but we’re too close to lunch so this will suffice.
As I make my way across the large living area, taking time to enjoy the views outside even if it’s a typically overcast day, I hear Carrick and Zaid’s voices coming out of his office. The doors are open, so I know I’m not intruding on anything private, thus I walk right in.
Carrick sits at his desk while Zaid is on the couch with one leg crossed over the other. As always, he’s wearing his standard black pants and mock turtleneck, which I’ve come to equate to almost like a nun’s habit.
Both turn their gazes to me, Zaid giving a curt nod of greeting.
Carrick’s eyes slide over me, taking in every nuance of what I did this morning to make myself a little different. His eyes not only light up, but they also start to glow, and the curl of appreciation to his mouth causes warmth to pool in my belly.
“Zaid,” Carrick says in a rough voice. “If you’ll give Finley and me some time.”
Zaid starts to stand, and I’m horrified that Carrick is pretty much kicking Zaid out so Carrick can have his way with me. While I love Carrick’s attention in all ways, even this one, I am not about to be known as the “girl” who got in the way of important things.
“No,” I blurt out, motioning with my hand not holding the apple for Zaid to stay put. He hesitantly lowers himself back down, and I move quickly over to one of the adjacent chairs and plop down. “Sounds like you two were talking about something interesting, and I want in on it.”
What follows is an incredibly long and uncomfortable silence where Carrick’s eyes continue to glow and his expression borders somewhere between frustrated and amused.
Zaid merely picks at nonexistent lint on his pants.
I take a bite of my apple before smiling innocently.
Carrick finally shakes his head, then pulls over the book I recognize as Libri Mysteria in front of him. “I was just updating Zaid on some of the things I’ve found so far.”
“Anything good?” I take another bite of my apple.
“Yeah,” Carrick mutters, his expression sour. “But I had to read through a lot of bad to get there. Whoever wrote this book was long on prose and internal feelings, but short on facts.”
“Whoever wrote it?” I stand from my chair and move over to the mini wet bar that’s part of the built-ins. I toss the apple in the garbage can under it, then use the small sink there to wash my hands. Carrick has cute monogrammed paper hand towels, and I wonder if Zaid got them for him.
“There’s no credit given to any author that I can tell,” Carrick explains as he taps a finger on the book. “Nothing on the cover, spine, or anything I’ve read so far. But I can tell the author is a demi-god because he or she references abilities specific to such.”
“Wait,” I exclaim, turning toward him. “She? There are female demi-gods?”
“Duh,” Zaid mutters. “Why wouldn’t there be? There are female gods.”
I look over my shoulder. “Fair point.”
Then, turning to Carrick, I ask, “How many demi-gods are there?”
“Too many to count,” he scoffs.
“So, you have other brothers? Even sisters?”
Carrick shakes his head. “I don’t consider all demi-gods created to be my siblings. We’re not blood-related, but Lucien, Maddox, and I were created together and then sent off to train and battle together. Thus, we refer to each other as brothers.”