Page 22 of Justice

“You can no -” I started to argue but paused because he could. He could feel us, read us, and our feelings. It was a fact that would take getting used to. “Okay.”

I took a deep breath, skirted my fingers softly over the cover before pulling it open. The pages felt stiff under my fingers as I turned to the middle of the book, where the pages were once blank and unoccupied. The writing on the once empty pages was scrolled intricately on the pages with flawless form, though no one had opened the book to write it. The slight indent of the quill where it left ink as it flowed onto the parchment could be felt under my touch.

My eyes drank the words, an expertly written tale of three men and their woman, fighting monsters and creatures, to retrieve a precious magical artifact. Along the way, they rescued a long-lost King who was destined to love the woman in her journey of salvation.

Well, fuck. There went our plan of dropping off the fleabag and running. Naturally, it couldn’t be that simple. I might never sleep again with Justice around, always wondering if his suspicious ass will strike at her.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” I had forgotten that Ellis was awake.

He sighed, his voice groggy as he spoke, “What does it say?”

“It’s there. The account of the journey underground.” I shut the book, probably harder than I should have, considering it was practically ancient. “We have to keep the mutt.”

From the thin line of light coming in through the curtains, I saw his brows scrunch together.“What, why?”

“He’s supposed to love her. I guess at some point.”

“Maybe you misread,” he groaned.

“Doubt it. If he were unimportant, he wouldn’t have made it into the writings. There is no mention of Ramsey at all,” I explained. “Thank the fates for that small favor because I did not want to add him permanently to our mix.”

Ellis snorted. “I’m not sharing a bed with him.”

“Ramsey?”

“No!” He rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes. “The beast out there.”

I knew how he felt. That guy tried to chew my face off less than five hours ago. I think I should be allowed to hold a grudge toward him for a little longer. I could still smell his rancid breath each time I inhaled. I wondered if Ramsey got him a toothbrush. And pants. Definitely needed pants because I was not comfortable staring at his dick for the next leg of the journey.

I stood, putting the book on the bedside table next to Ellis before finding a spot on the end of the bed, the only place available, and stretched out. If I was going to guard her, I was at least going to protect her in comfort from my bed. On the chance that the beast came into this room, he would have to get through me before he even thought of touching Liberty. I wouldn’t make it easy, either.

I closed my eyes with that thought, and in mere moments, I was out.

When I woke,Liberty was standing a few feet away, arguing with Sterling. Nothing too heated, just enough to wake me and put me on alert just in case it escalated, and I needed to step in as her protector. Internally, I sensed no threat, though, not even the slightest ping of worry, so I let my eyes flutter closed as their voices whispered over me.

“Just give him a pair of your pants, please,” Liberty hissed.

“Seriously, king or not, my wardrobe is custom made. These pants cost more than -”

She cut him off. “My apartment’s rent?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He groaned. “But yeah, probably.”

“Give. Him. Pants,” she gritted out. “And a shirt.”

“Babe.” The poor sap tried to reason, but honestly, I think we all knew he wouldn’t win. “Why can’t Ellis or Oak do it?”

“Babe.” Eek, the tone was scary.Good luck, Sterling. “Ellis’ pants would be too short, and Oaks would be too wide.”

“But -” Was he whining? He was actually whining.

“Look, give him your damn pants, Sterling. I’ll take one of Ellis’ shirts.” Beside me, Ellis raised a single arm from where he was lying on his stomach, head buried in the pillow, and waved it in approval. “See! He doesn’t care!”

“Because he still wears clothing from forty years ago.” Sterling had a point. Actually, I didn’t know if he had much clothing from this time, except for the typical jeans and tees.

“Confession, he wore a pair of suspenders two days ago that taunted me all damn day. If he wants to mix up his decades as he pleases, I’m all for it. Give me the 1930s any day. I don’t care what the hell you wear or how old it is.”