Calix sighs. “See to it Oz not only rests, but that he also closes his eyes.”
And miss the cute way Whisper parts her plump lips when she sleeps? That’s not happening.
“I’ll do my best,” Quinn assures him.
Quinn and I leave, carrying our meal with us back to my room. I situate our food on the table and we sit. It feels so very natural having her in here with me. Like there was always something missing, but I finally found it.
“Sayer showed me the book,” she says softly.
“What book?”
“The book.” She shoves a piece of sabrevipe meat into her mouth thanks to Draven’s recent kill.
I yawn and scratch my nog with a claw. “What’s the book?”
Her cheeks flood pink. “The one you all made from your, er, experiences.”
“Oh,” I say with a chuckle. “That book.”
“Did you know Jareth added an entire section dedicated to your…um, creations?”
I snort. “A whole section?”
“There was a lot.”
“I’m creative and like to build things. What can I say?”
She pokes at something pink on her plate before glancing up at me. “How do you know what all the things do when you’ve never done it before?”
“What’s it?” I taunt, loving how her neck turns splotchy red.
“Sex.”
“I’m imaginative. I’m a good listener when Jareth is blabbing his mouth. I read all the notes everyone makes. It paints a pretty decent picture in my head.” I wink at her before devouring the rest of the food on my tray. “You best eat and clean up so you can get to sleep. That library won’t build itself.”
“We, Oz. You better go to sleep tonight or else.”
I lift a brow. “Define the else.”
“If I wake up catching you stare one more night, all bets are off. I’ll do what makes every male go to sleep.”
“What’s that, Whisper?”
Her blue eyes glitter with mischief. “Guess you’ll find out.”
My gaze rakes over her flawless skin, along her pert nose, and landing on her pouty lips. “This threat sounds oddly enticing.”
“Are you always this daring of a mort?”
“Always.”
Her playfulness fades as she stands. “Please sleep tonight, Oz. You need it.”
“I’ll try.”
Only one of us realizes that’s a lie.
Time is slipping through my hands. I won’t let myself lose these precious moments at night where I can stare at her uninterrupted.
“Oz,” she whispers. “Even heroes need to close their eyes and recoup.”
The only thing this hero needs is to watch his beauty sleep.
7
Quinn
Nine Solars Left
The library is almost complete.
I can hardly believe it.
I’ve never worked so hard in my life and my old library was a dozen times bigger than the one at the facility and served hundreds, if not thousands, of people. I had assistants, though, and most of the hard work, the cataloguing and organizing and building had been done prior to me ever being appointed. I hadn’t borne sole responsibility for curating materials from the ground up or printing the books themselves and painstakingly binding them together. It brings a whole new meaning to the term book lover, that’s for sure.
“Have you been in here all day?” Emery doesn’t bother knocking anymore. She brings Hophalix most days to observe. So much so, that I’ve carved out a little nook near the window to serve as a play area for the babies. Some are still too young, like Molly’s when it’s born, to use it, but others like Emery’s have been loving it. I scoured the facility for a rug and found a blue one in a closet. Using one of Oz’s knives, I scored the edges into a half moon shape. Grace, who turned out to be the most skilled with a needle, sewed large poofs and pillows, which I scattered around the rug. Jareth learned what I was doing and tinkered until he produced several toys the little mortlings could play with. I have them arranged on a shelf against the wall.
“When am I not here?” I say and push stray curls out of my face.
“You’re getting as bad as Oz.”
The thought makes me frown. He’d been gone when I woke up this morning and I’m almost positive he got little sleep, if any. “I don’t think anyone could be as bad as Oz. Have you seen him today?”
She shakes her head as she lays Hophalix down on the rug with one of Jareth’s toys to play with. “I asked Calix to check in on him, but he said Oz wouldn’t hear of taking a break.” Her expression tightens. “I’m worried about him.”
“You and me both. It’s like he won’t stop until he has the weapon perfected. I mean, I understand, but he won’t be of any help to anyone if he works himself to the bone.”
“And I’m sure he won’t listen to reason.”
“Definitely not.”
Emery gives a wry smile. “Stupid question. Morts are like alpha males on crack.”
“Times two,” I quip, and we share a laugh. “I’ve tried talking to him, but it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes. He’s determined to finish this. I’m afraid he feels like if he fails, he’s basically sending all the others to slaughter when Earth II attacks. I don’t know how to reason with him.”