His eyes meet mine for a brief second, and a cold shiver races down my spine.
“Eat your food, little bird,” he orders, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.
I nod quickly, pushing my fork through the pasta once more. The tension in the air is thick, and I find myself caught between two extremes—Everett’s silent care and Rafe’s unsettling energy.
Zaid and Krystian are definitely much less intense than the other two.
“You okay?” Zaid asks softly, his eyes glimmering with concern.
I wonder what made him think that, then I realize it’s because I haven’t taken a single bite of my food.
For the first time since I’ve arrived on earth, I’m not hungry. My stomach is in too many knots.
“Just thinking about what Aphrodite said,” I fib, waving my fork in the air for emphasis.
He gives a small nod, not pressing, but his eyes linger on me. I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me, but he doesn’t know what to ask next.
The conversation drifts, Krystian pulling it back to something lighthearted, talking about some ridiculous prank he pulled on Rafe the week before. Rafe, of course, isn’t amused, but there’s a slight curve to his lips that I catch when he thinks no one is looking. Zaid listens intently, while Everett simply scarfs down his food like a man possessed.
I can’t help but think how quickly my world has changed. Just a day ago, I was trapped in that damn room with no hope of ever escaping. Now, I’m here, surrounded by four men who are so vastly different from each other, yet each one pulls me in some way.
Krystian’s carefree nature is a balm to my tattered soul, while Krys’s intensity reminds me that I’m more than anyonecan comprehend. Rafe’s madness is magnetic, though I’m not sure I’m strong enough to survive the pull towards him. Zaid is the safe harbor I never knew I needed, but Everett… Everett is something else entirely. His gruff exterior belies a certain protectiveness I don’t know how to interpret. It’s not as if he’s giving me any clarity, either.
Krystian continues talking, his voice cheerful, and for a moment, I allow myself to envision a future where I’m not a tool of death. Where I’m not a prisoner. Where I’m not isolated from the rest of the world. But in the back of my mind, there’s this constant nagging reminding me that nothing good lasts.
Either they’re going to get sick of me—a silly girl who doesn’t know what she is or where she came from—or I’m going to be ripped away from them.
I brush at the dagger tattoo yet again.
As the evening wears on, laughter fills the room—easy and familiar—but my thoughts are a jumbled mess.
Rafe calls me “little bird,” and maybe that’s all I’m meant to be.
Caged and isolated.
Perhaps there’s a reason I was locked away in the first place.
And maybe once that reason comes to light, the guys will wish they never helped me to begin with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THEA
“Hey. You asleep?” Krystian leans against the doorframe of the bedroom they allowed me to borrow.
I toss him a droll look over my shoulder. “Yes, because I sleep standing up all the time.”
Krystian snickers. “Hey, in my defense, you’re a weird little creature. Who knows with you?”
I flip him off and turn back to the clothes laid out on my bed. Everett must’ve also grabbed me pajamas, though I don’t know if I want to wear the teal silk set or the nightgown.
Krystian steps forward to see what I’m looking at. “Oh. Go with the teal. It’ll look great on you.”
Smirking, I grab the nightgown instead and move towards the connecting bathroom.
Krystian follows me, seemingly unperturbed when I slam the door in his face.
“So…it’s going to be night soon,” Krystian begins, his voice slightly muffled due to the door.
