Page 52 of Liberty

Chapter 21

ELLIS

“Mmm,I knew I smelled coffee. And pancakes made with buttermilk and –” Liberty sniffed the air. “Is that imported vanilla? And did you cook those hash browns with garlic-infused oil? You’re the best, Ellis.” She leaned to where I sat at the table and hugged me.

Each one of us froze, and she didn’t even notice. I tried to clear my throat, trying to work through the feel of sandpaper, making it nearly impossible to speak. “Thank you.”

She pulled out a chair between Oak and me and sat down. “How are you boys this morning?”

No one’s eyes left hers. “Good, good. And you? It sounded like you had a good morning.”

Fuck. Did I just say that? I felt my face redden with mortification while Oak just smirked. She missed the implication, though, as she piled her plate with food. “It’s been good so far.”

Sterling sat down, the cocky look on his face was unmistakable. “Find anything in your books?”

He used his chin to gesture to the pile of books Oak and I were skimming. We had gotten up early to start our research. “Absolutely nothing. We can’t find a damn thing.”

But, if I knew James like I thought I did, there was something here. He had hundreds of years’ worth of books. Some of them older than him. If the answers to the questions were here, we would find them. Until then, there was a chance, a huge chance that Oak may never let Liberty leave this property again.

She took a bite of food and moaned. We all stared, but she was oblivious, her concentration on the plate of food in front of her. Sterling caught our eyes, using his head to gesture toward the kitchen. “I’m going to get coffee, want any, Liberty?”

Her eyes brightened. “Coffee? Coffee would be amazing. I can nearly taste the rich notes and bitter undertones.”

We looked at each other, and Oak and I both stood. “Yeah, I could use a refill.”

“Me too,” Oak mumbled.

We all met in the kitchen, surrounding the coffee pot because, well, I did need a refill. I looked over their shoulder to make sure Liberty wasn’t watching before bringing my attention back to the men in front of me. “What the actual fuck is happening here?”

“She has heightened senses,” Sterling pointed out. “She could sense what type of fucking vanilla you used.”

“Let’s just hope her hearing isn’t,” Oak mumbled, and I took the hint and lowered my voice.

“She makes us glow. Like, really glow. We were fucking glow sticks last night. And the healing speed her blood mended us with was –”

“Unheard of,” Sterling cut in as he rubbed where his wound had been hours before.

“Unheard of,” I finished on a sigh.

Oak rubbed his neck, looking sheepish and not making eye contact. “I bit her.”

Sterling shook his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“She begged me to do it, and I couldn’t tell her no. I mean, I tried, but it was halfhearted because I fucking wanted to do it. She didn’t lose her memory.”

I wasn’t sure which part of that I should focus on, that he bit her and I was so fucking jealous about it, or that she didn’t blackout? I’d never heard of anyone retaining their memory. But I’m not shocked either. Nothing about this girl was expected. She called to us like a siren’s song. Each one of us too damn weak to resist. Even now, after taking my fill of her powerful blood last night, I craved her. Craving her was a fact that made me uncomfortable. Wanting her blood more than I wanted anything in my entire life was a new sensation for me.

Sterling sighed before taking a big gulp of coffee. “What kind of shit storm did James drag us into?”

“It didn’t sound like you minded that shit storm this morning,” I commented, and yeah, I was feeling salty. Why was I the only one who hadn’t received some one-on-one time with her? And why was not receiving one-on-one time the only part of the situation that bugged me and not the fact that we just had a four-way fuck session last night and no one blinked a damn eye?

He looked a bit dreamy before replying, “Not one fucking bit.”

He took a sip of coffee, trying to hide the smirk I knew he was wearing at the memory. That memory of whatever they had done on the opposite side of the fucking house that had both Oak and I clenching the table and adjusting our damn cocks.

Oak poured his coffee then headed back toward his books, calling to us over his shoulder, “Maybe we should call Maggie.”

The fork clinked against the china as Liberty looked up. “No.”