Page 88 of The Eleventh Hour
Blood drains from my head. I feel sick.
“No,” I whisper. “It wasn’t him.” They aren’t listening to me. At all. My scars, I forgot about them. Did he see the brand? Has he figured out that those strange markings are a dahlia yet?
“Did you brand her, you sick fuck? Did you put that freaky looking flower on her hip?” Dane roars, refusing to back down.
I think I’m going to pass out.
Gideon snarls. It’s vicious and cold and sends shivers up my spine.
“Why haven’t you crossed over?” Dane fires at Gideon.
I’m so angry I have to blink just to clear my vision. “Dane, stop-”
Gideon moves so quickly I almost miss it. He flicks his arm out and just taps Dane on the back of the head.
It wasn’t hard, it couldn’t have hurt him, but Dane goes white. Even in the darkness, you can see his face bleached of colour. He takes a cautious step back, then another, until he spins on his heel and storms from the building.
I exchange a baffled look with Rafe. Gideon runs his hand from my shoulder to my fingers and steps back.
“No! Wait-”
But he’s gone.
“What the fuck?” Rafe breathes in an awed whisper. “He talks! That’s incredible.”
I rub my aching temples and wonder if getting blind drunk would help. “What the fuck indeed, but which part? That whole thing was a clusterfuck.”
Rafe slowly turns his head to look at me. His smile is slow to spread across his face, but then he has me in his arms and kisses me hard. His kiss is more tentative, more languid than Gideons. Rafe kisses me like he wants to get to know all of me slowly. Gideon just consumes me. Dane kisses me with challenge.
Rafe pulls back and presses his face against my neck.
“We need a drink. Yup, that’s gonna help. Let’s get out of here.”
I take one last look at the shadows, but I can’t see any sign of my wayward spirit. I don’t know what Gideon’s playing at, but I don’t like this new game.
“Yeah, a drink. Or seven.”
Jax
Dane has been absent for the last three hours. We arrived back at their home, and he stalked up the dark hallway, sending me one furious glare, and vanishing into the cave he calls his bedroom.
Rafe leans into me, whispering his own commentary on the action movie I’ve already forgotten the name of. The movie is hilarious, or rather, Rafe is. I honestly can’t recall much of the movie.
He has his arm over my shoulder, and I’m leaning into him. The strong citrus smell that is his is a blanket around me.
“Are we going to talk about this?”
I lift my eyes to find Dane staring down at us in challenge. I return my gaze to the screen.
“Dumbass.”
Rafe laughs, a low chuckle that rumbles through his chest and vibrates into me.
“You kissed that thing,” Dane roars.
Rafe frowns. “He’s not really a thing, though, is he?”
“It’s not a ‘he’ it’s an it! And when did you drink the Kool-aid?”