the yard and further to the ocean where it stretched for endless miles, but not so much I wanted to potentially eat in urine. "Where do you usually picnic?"
"Um, well, we don't picnic all the time…" Jazz said breezily. "But, we've gone a few places. On the beach, over at the river, you know, boring places."
Those places sounded awesome. Or at the least, not so blatantly pee-covered. "Why not the beach? It's nice."
Downstairs, someone coughed, but it sounded suspiciously pointed.
"Get a drink of water!" Jazz hollered over my head toward the unseen cougher. "We promised Diesel we would keep you within sight of the hotel, and seriously, I think it's a good idea. Quite frankly, really strange, crazy dramatic things happen to us all the time, and you just got here. I'd rather not have you killed or kidnapped in your introductory phase. That's strictly stage two stuff."
I wanted to be angry at Diesel for trying to control where I went, but who could be angry looking at that adorable guilty face? I saw why Knox probably had such a hard time at first.
"Hey!" Jazz slapped my arm, prompting Sitka to smoothly slide between us like our referee.
"Let's join the others and eat. Then people will be in better moods."
For as sweet and caring as Sitka was, he could throw a jab when he wanted, and most times, you didn't see it coming.
I loved that about him.
Outside, Storri and Dog waited with Hallie, Siobhan, Jamie, and all the children. Sitka poofed to his son's side, lifting him from Jamie's arms and nuzzling his face to his baby's neck.
Gus spotted his dad and raised his arms, chubby hands clenched into ineffectual fists as he let out needy little grunts when Jazz didn't pick him up right away.
My wince lasted less than half of a second. Here, there wasn't anyone studying my face every moment so my pain went, thankfully, unnoticed. I didn't even know why I hurt. I didn't want a kid. With everything I'd seen, everything that I knew could happen to a person, how could I bring a life into that?
Looking over my shoulder, I spotted the row of motorcycles. Shiny, imposing bikes that probably had names with many initials. Diesel had fancied himself a biker at one time. I remembered a particular span of a few weeks involving Diesel, a leather jacket, and fringe that I'd sworn to never bring up again in mixed company.
My lips felt light with the memory.
He prooooomised a lot.
If my wraiths were only going to talk when they had something mean to say, then I'd rather they keep it to themselves. The wraiths split, one rubbing my shoulders comfortingly while the other clenched around my hands in their version of an apology. They worried about me, with good reason. The entire time my wraiths had known me I'd been in captivity. I'd needed their worry, their protection.
Sitting among the other nephilim, I felt like nothing could hurt me, but that wasn't true. Jazz had said as much. Dramatic, crazy, and strange had been his words. None of those screamed safety.
Jazz bumped into my shoulder. "They're just inside, probably staring at us like dorks through the meeting room window."
I turned my head away, bumping into my wraith in my haste. "I wasn't worried. I was just looking at the bikes."
Jazz didn't look like he believed me, but he played along. "Are you interested in riding? I'm sure Storri could get Faust to make you one. And then we can take it out when Storri sneaks away from the hotel with Dog to do dangerous things like he does when he doesn't think we're watching."
Storri's cheeks were red, but his lips turned in a soft smile.
"So they've still got that overbearing, uber-protective, my-way-or-the-highway attitude?"
Jazz inhaled like a warrior facing a battlefield. "Buckle up. I believe it's gotten worse. Losing everyone…almost everyone…it did something to each of them. They dealt with it in their own ways. Still deal with it, actually."
My ribs ached at the thought. No matter what I'd seen since that horrible night, every day before that had shown me a pack of Alphas willing to do whatever was necessary to care for and protect their pack. Losing them, losing everyone…
I didn't mind that Jazz continued to make the same mistake. In a way, the Quinlan of that pack had died. Wholly unprepared for the real world and all its horrors, that innocent, naive, pure boy was gone forever.
Just like my pack family.
And my