Bishop frowned at me. “I do have one question, though.
“Hmm?” I said as I ran my fingers through his hair. It was getting long. He needed to get it trimmed.
“I thought you disliked Wilder. When did that change?”
When indeed. I’d been trying to figure that out myself. When I’d first met Wilder, he’d been a bratty little asshole, who mouthed off and did whatever he wanted, to the point where I wanted to bury his body at the bottom of the ocean. Recently, he’d been quieter, more reserved. Almost vulnerable. “When he became more like a rabbit than a pissed off kitty.”
“Ah,” Bishop replied, as if that all made sense. “You like that he feels like prey.”
That was true. If you stripped me down to my core fundamentals, removed all the superficial charm and the things I did to pass as ‘normal’ in society, I was a hunter.
“You’re right.” Bishop was usually right. “The rabbit in him calls to the wolf in me.”
“Wolf?” Bishop snorted. “If anyone is the pissed off kitty here, it’s going to be you.”
The door opened and Benji strode in looking a little flustered. He cast a quick glance between me and my twin but didn’t even bat an eye. That was one of the things I liked about Benji. He just accepted us as we were without even raising an eyebrow.
“So, little bird, what’s my prognosis?” I asked, a wry smile curling my lips as he knelt next to me. Bishop made to move, but I held him to me. My twin and I were on the same page again which was…nice. I disliked being at odds with him because it made me feel a little feral.
“Don’t call me that,” Benji chided, the blush on his cheeks a bright cherry red. “You know it pisses Damyr off.”
Bishop chuckled. “He’s going to keep calling you that until it doesn’t.”
“I know,” Benji grumbled as he leant closer to my left arm. “The curse is fading at least, so that’s good.”
“Do you know what it is?” I asked as I looked at my hand. It looked like someone had taken a tub of black paint and dropped my hand in it. It was quite fascinating, actually. I’d used bottled curses before when going up against particularly troublesome targets, but I’d never been hit with one from a witch before.
“Not exactly,” Benji replied as his hands trailed down my arm, his touch methodical but gentle. “From what I could research and what Acheron could share, it’s just designed to cause pain, but it’s only temporary. I can see the inkiness in your veins already receding. Give it another hour or two and it should be gone.”
“Good,” Bishop said, his voice a little drowsy. Maybe all this friction between us had been more taxing on him than I’d thought.
“Get some rest and you should be as right as rain shortly.” Benji got back to his feet and hit me with a thinly veiled death stare. “If you could try to avoid requiring my services until after Christmas, I’d appreciate it.”
“Regretting the Christmas Eve shindig?” I said with a chuckle.
“Almost,” he huffed. “Damyr is wincing at every bit of tinsel going up and I’m not sure whether I can handle anymore of his silent disapproval. There’s still so much to do and the party is tomorrow and—”
“Little bird,” I interrupted. “I might not know what love feels like, but I can see Damyr loves you. Let him fuck your brains out and then maybe he’ll be a little more relaxed.”
“True,” Bishop agreed. “He’s probably pissed because he doesn’t know how to help you. As far as I know, he’s never had a Christmas party here before. He’s probably just feeling a little lost and doesn’t want to disappoint you.”
“He’s also stubborn as fuck so he isn’t going to ask you how he can help,” I added. “He’s going to wait until you ask him.”
Benji dragged his hand through his blonde curls. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m going to go and find him.” He stepped towards the door but doubled back on himself. “Before I forget, Acheron told me to give this back to you. He couldn’t find anything on it. No lasting impressions, no history, just a whole pile of nothing.”
“Nothing?” I asked as Benji dropped the signet ring I’d stolen into the palm of my jet-black hand. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” Benji said as he turned to leave the room again. “I’ll see you later.”
No, he wouldn’t. He’d be wrapped up in his new husband and decorating and me, well, I was going to visit Wilder’s house again. I turned the little gold and black ring over in my palm and planned exactly what I was going to do with it.
Chapter Eight
Wilder
It was dark by the time I got home last night and I collapsed into bed. I’d been walking aimlessly for hours, trying to make sense of everything I’d learnt that day and I had been exhausted. So exhausted in fact, that my mind didn’t even have the energy to conjure up my usual nightmare.
When I woke, I discovered that there was a box wrapped in some tacky red Christmas wrapping paper with a gaudy sparkly gold bow on it.