Rorrick’s deep green eyes follow me as I make my way toward them on my hands and knees. I should look away. This shouldn’t be as sexual as it feels. I shouldn’t be idolizing the brief kindness he showed me. He helped me when no one else did...
Twice.
I swallow hard and peer away.
Only to find Seven also seeping into my soul with his ever-watchful gaze. Heat burns across my cheeks, and I still don’t know if he knows what I did with the use of his magic.
The sensual memory of it all slips away when my attention drifts from his eyes to his...
“What happened to your nose?!”
Seven and Rorrick share a very long,very suspiciouslook between themselves. A line of dry blood is just below his right nostril, and he swipes at it the moment I mention it.
“I—I’m fine. Just feels like I got hit in the face with a shovel.” The moment he says the lie, a noise rings out through the room.
It’s a solid sound. A literal “plink” of resounding metal smacking across Seven’s incredibly gorgeous face. And then the materialized shovel clatters to the floor at his feet.
“What the fuck!” Seven’s outburst of surprise matches my own, as well as everyone else’s.
His hands clasp to his face, his eyes clenching closed in a pain that doesn’t make any damn sense.
What is happening here?
“Where the hell did that come from?” Christian picks up the shovel from the floor, and his attention sweeps through the room as if the shovel didn’t just swing through the air and intentionally land firmly against Seven’s bloody nose.
“Magic,” Rorrick accuses, all three of them shifting around the room now to get to the bottom of this bizarre shovel magic.
“Who do you think it is? Your father? The Fae King? Spies?” Rorrick’s big body is tense and on guard.
Christian shakes his head slowly.
“Whoever it is, they’re not out for blood. They’re just fucking with me.”
And the moment he says that...
A gasp tears from my throat. The room vanishes for a fraction of a second. And then I’m crashing down. As if by teleportation, I land from midair. My legs tangle with his. Luckily, his back... and skull break my fall.
“Fuck!” Christian’s hands fling violently at his sides before he looks up at me. Where I suddenly sit naked and straddling his hips. “You,” he hisses, his eyes narrowing with accusation.
“Me?” I ask on a mouse of a voice.
“You’re fucking with me...literally.” My sex presses firmly against his strangely unbuttoned black pants.
I cross my arms and cover my breasts with my hands. The gold chain from my neck to my wrists is still fully intact. It’s cold against my curves.
“Everyone calm down. Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Rorrick says coolly.
And then he starts jumping. Frantically jumping until his enormous body is rattling the wooden desk and the pens are rolling off and the vase of flowers on the night stand teeters unevenly before crashing down in a spray of glass.
“Stop! Stop it!” Christian commands of him.
“I—I fucking can’t!” And the massive man continues to jump all around the room against his will like a schoolgirl at recess.
Seven’s laughter shakes through him, but I notice he keeps his hand firmly over his lips as if he’s stopping himself from saying something that might... get him in a similar situation as his friend.
“Am I doing this?” I look at Seven, and he nods between stifling his laughter, never once daring to say a word. “Well, how do I stop it?”
No one answers me, especially when Rorrick somehow ends up in the middle of the bed, bouncing around like an angry toddler at a Chucky Cheese.