Chapter 308. Babysitting

Chapter 308: 308. Babysitting

Maisie

"He’s from the other side," I argued, standing as Jericho shuffled across the small room, agitated. "And he’s old as dirt. He would know something."

"He tried to kill you," Jericho hissed. "He tried to kill everyone."

I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Yes, well, now he can’t. He’s behind bars, remember? It’ll just be a quick chit--"

A resounding "no" echoed throughout the room, rattling the bedframe.

I bristled with annoyance, but willed my muscles into relaxing and my posture into false acquiescence.

I was going to talk to him whether they wanted me to or not. Being stubborn about it would only alert them to the fact that my brain was already working overtime to figure out how to get me into the Council’s dungeons without them knowing--

"When that chip in your spine alerts us to your sneaking around," Quinlan said, leaning forward, going from sexy to scary in under a second. "We will find you. What we do to you afterwards will entirely be your fault. So, please, by all means, try it."

My Lycan yowled happily, encouraging me to do it, just so I could get punished.

My teeth gritted. "You can’t keep from going. This would be over a whole lot faster if you just let me speak to him. I’m the only one he’ll speak to and that has to mean I’m important. He won’t hurt me."

"No," Jericho scoffed. "He’ll just kiss you again and turn you into frozen pop tarts. You are not going there."

"You’re being irrational, and you know it," I growled.

Playing the part of the good cop, Quinlan stood from his chair. "How about we exhaust all of our options first? I’ll speak to Soren tonight and see what we can find." He cupped my cheeks. "If we find nothing, then we’ll pay your pretty alien a visit."

I looked in his blue eyes. At his too-kind smile. "You’re not going to let me talk to him, are you?"

His grin widened and he tapped my nose once. "No. This could be another lure, another trap to get you close enough, just so he can get into your head. It’s what he does. It is how he attacked the school in the first place with those creatures."

I paused. "What do you mean?"

"The council finished the first round of interrogations," Jericho explained, his jaw tight. "Those winged beasts don’t operate on individual instinct. They function as a hive mind. The second you knocked the dragon unconscious during the battle, the entire swarm lost direction. They got confused, disoriented. That gave us the window to turn the tide."

Quinlan added, "Further research carried out on some of the carcasses confirmed a neural pathway. A strong enough mind can completely override their instincts. We think they skirted around Greymoor, searching for you, and the second that was confirmed, it was only a matter of time before the attack happened."

His voice lowered and I heard the sincerity and the genuine worry in his words. "We think he’ll do whatever he needs to, to get whatever he wants from you. Even if it means killing you." His thumb stroked my face. "Promise me you’ll trust us enough to let us handle this."

My brain translated that to: They are going to put me in a bubble wrap and then, a straitjacket and place me in the back seat with a feeding bottle in my mouth and Soren would pat my head lovingly and then say, "Don’t worry, love. Daddy’s(ies) going take care of everything."

While my Lycan didn’t have a problem with that, I didn’t appreciate being treated like a child.

But I nodded, swallowing my argument. We won some. We lost some.

Deep down, though, I already made the decision that I wasn’t losing this one.

****

It was long past midnight.

Quinlan was gone, leaving Jericho on official babysitting duty for the night. Well, he didn’t exactly leave willingly.

He had spent ten full minutes attempting to negotiate a sleepover, offering promises that he’d be a total gentleman, keep his hands to himself, and he’d happily take the floor.

Jericho had responded by grabbing him by the back of his shirt and physically tossing him out the door with a savage, "Fuck off, Quinn. It’s my turn."

I hadn’t realized that sitting three feet away while Jericho showered in my tiny dorm bathroom would be a whole new form of self-inflicted torture. I had my fingers had curled for the better part of twenty five minutes around the blankets as the steam and the smell of my soap on his skin, mixing with his scent drove me mad.

It’s just a shower, Maisie. People shower. Jericho is people. A ridiculously massive, tanned person with wet silver hair plastered to his forehead and drops of water trailing down those delicious abs... down the V-line... so smooth I could just lick it off--No no no no. Stop. Stop thinking about licking things. Or eating things. Or the shower. Or the man currently naked behind a piece of cheap plastic curtain.

Somehow, I had gotten through that. Until he stepped out of the shower dripping wet, with my tiny pink towel around his waist.

It could’ve as well been a napkin.

"I... uh..." Jericho rubbed the back of his neck, his damp hair messy and adorable, a rare, faint blush creeping over his sharp cheekbones.

"I was in a rush. Forgot my clothes." He glanced down at the pathetic square of pink cloth clinging to his massive hips, then looked at me. "Could I borrow..." He paused, measuring the absurdity of his almost seven foot frame trying to squeeze into my clothes, and sighed. "Never mind."

"Hold on," I squeaked, scrambling over to my closet to dig around.

I found a pair of dark gray sweatpants I’d worn holes into back in Munich. They were the only pair I owned with enough stretch to accommodate his thigh-to-waist ratio, but next to his pristine coat and jacket neatly folded on the study chair, it looked downright... ratty.

I was shoving it back into the tiny armoire when he snatched it out of my hands and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Thank you."

My heart expanded, nearly exploding out of my ribs.

Now, an hour later, I was tossing and turning in the pitch black, my mind racing a mile a minute. Was the floor too hard for him? His shoulders were really broad. What if he got a cramp? What if he was freezing down there? The bed was big enough. We could share. I should offer him half the mattress, shouldn’t I?

I punched my pillow twice, letting out a frustrated, pathetic little groan as I flipped onto my stomach for the hundredth time.

"Malyshka," his deep voice cut through the dark, smooth as velvet.

I froze mid-toss. "Jericho," I squeaked into my pillow.

"Your wriggling is making the entire floor vibrate," I heard the soft rustle of sheets as he shifted down near the rug. "Is something bothering you?"

Yeah. You’re all the way over there, and I’m all the way over here, and my bed feels ridiculously empty. Would you like to sleep with me? Wait. No, not like that. I mean, would you like to sleep together? Fully clothed! Zero touching! No. Scratch that. No genitals involved whatsoever! Sorta.

"No," I sulked and turned my face to the wall.