“We want this fixed,” Clay said as he gave each man a pointed stare. “I don’t care how you work it out, but you are going to work it out. Do you understand? We’re stuck with each other until the pestilents are taken care of permanently. After that, you can go your separate ways and never fucking talk again.”
Calder nodded, feeling kind of like a kid facing his dad after wrecking the family car. He was a grown man of twenty-seven, and Clay certainly wasn’t his father. But he was the leader of their group, and he had the chops to pull off that stern lecturer vibe.
Fixing this problem with Lucien was another matter. He had no idea how to go about it. Right then, sex didn’t seem like the answer. In fact, it was the kind of thing that could only make the situation worse.
But what was this connection Grey could see between them? What did it mean?
“Dinner’s ready!” Baer called out as he popped his head into the doorway of the dining room. “Did you get them to kiss and make up yet?”
Lucien made a growling noise in his throat, and Calder couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of kissing and making up. But the image of those soft lips brushing against his popped into his brain, the feel of those strong hands on his body, kneading muscles and pulling him close. A shiver ran down his spine. Damn.
They all stood and made their way into the bright kitchen. Calder picked up a plate and got in line behind Wiley. There was roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and a huge salad. As he filled his plate, he found himself glancing at Lucien often.
Surely they weren’t soul mates. Not with how they rubbed each other the wrong way.
As everyone filed into the dining room with their food, Calder followed and sat next to Baer, hoping to put some much-needed distance between him and Lucien. The redhead gave him a wink before tucking into his roast beef. Wiley sat on the other side of Baer with Clay at the head of the table and his husband, Dane, to his left. Grey sat next to Dane with Cort on his left. Lucien was sort of kitty corner from Calder. He almost sighed, but it was the only open seat for him unless he wanted to demand the guy eat in a totally different room.
Clay smiled at his mate as he picked up his fork and knife. “Is the last room ready for paint yet?”
“Yeah,” Dane answered. “I got the final drywall prepped. The room needs a couple of coats of paint and some minor touch-up; then it’s ready for the last Weaver.”
He gave a short nod. “Lucien, Calder, I’d like you two to paint it tomorrow.”
Lucien scowled at Clay. “So, your answer to this problem is to stick us in the same room for hours at a time?”
“Well, neither of you seemed amenable to my other suggestion.” Clay grinned and placed a bite of beef into his mouth.
“What suggestion was that?” Wiley asked, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Was it—”
“Let’s change the subject,” Calder interrupted before Wiley could dig in further. He didn’t want any more discussion of him and Lucien together, no matter how impossible that was. “Lucien and I will paint the last Weaver’s room tomorrow. Right, Lucien?”
“I hate painting,” Lucien grumbled. “But yeah, we’ll do it.”
“Good.” Clay picked up his beer and pointed it at Lucien. “You two talk and work this out.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Lucien grinned and speared a carrot. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed, still smiling.
Wiley shivered. “Is it just me or is that kind of hot?”
“If anyone is the daddy in a relationship with me, it would be me.” Lucien picked up his napkin and wiped the corner of his lip.
Calder stared at him, his mind whirling with images of Lucien acting like a daddy. It wasn’t his kink, but he could admit to the idea being hot. Lucien met his gaze and lifted an eyebrow, and Calder realized something of what he was feeling must have shown in his expression. He quickly smoothed it out, then smirked at Lucien, who narrowed his eyes.
They were both so busy silently communicating, it took Calder a moment to realize everyone was looking at them. He dropped the smirk and sent a glare to Clay, who’d put the whole idea of sleeping with Lucien in his brain. Clay chuckled and went back to his food.
As Calder ate the tender roast beef and root vegetables, he decided he was going to have to make nice with Lucien. No kissing and making up, no daddy issues, and definitely no fucking.
But maybe they could talk. Though what they’d talk about was anybody’s guess. They owed it to the others to work out their issues. None of them deserved to be worrying about their lives when it came to the two of them—they had enough to worry about with the pestilents.
His brothers needed to see him as trustworthy and dependable. He’d been at the house the shortest amount of time, had his powers the shortest time. It was time to catch up with the rest of them.
The others talked and when Calder looked up, it was to find Lucien watching him again, those brown eyes probing and showing something like curiosity. Could they be soul mates, but something had gone wrong?
Maybe that faded ribbon represented animosity, because he sure as hell felt that when it came to Lucien. And it was obvious Lucien felt the same way.
But something in that stare made his mouth go dry. He picked up his iced tea and took a long gulp.
He forced himself to join the conversation, trying hard not to look at Lucien.
After dinner, they all worked together to clean the kitchen, then met in the family room for drinks. Baer poured him a glass of whiskey, and Calder cradled the tumbler in his hands while staring down at the amber liquid. He wasn’t looking forward to painting that room, but at least it would give him and Lucien something to do instead of fighting. Knowing them, they’d do that, too, though.
“Did anyone see John today?” Clay asked as he settled on the couch, one arm wrapped around Dane’s shoulders.
A shudder ran through Calder at the pestilent’s name. He’d heard about the pestilent leaders before John who’d attacked the Circle and none of them were a picnic, but John was by far the most frightening. He was the first they’d encountered who could bespell all the humans into attacking them. The bastard had even brainwashed an actual SWAT team into attacking their home, and they’d barely survived. He dreaded to think what John would throw at them next.
Today’s attack on the book festival had almost felt like a game—something to keep them on their toes. John’s powers were terrifying.
But there had been no sign of him in Savannah.
“He had to have been there,” Grey stated firmly. Cort reached over and rubbed his hand against the back of Grey’s neck as if soothing away the tension. “There were too many for him not to have been there.”
Clay took a sip of his whiskey and frowned. “Unless his powers are stronger than we thought, and he can do it remotely.”
“He did send that young girl to us once,” Baer reminded them. “Maybe he doesn’t have to be anywhere close by. But I can’t imagine he could control as many as he did today without being somewhat close.”
“Plus, wouldn’t he want to personally watch the chaos he created?” Wiley inquired.
“Fuck, he could be anywhere, then.” Grey threaded his fingers with Cort’s, laying their entwined hands on his lap. “We need to find him. Get rid of him for good.”