Chapter Twenty-Two
Solace by definition can mean an abundance of variations depending on your outlook in life. My source of solace, more than likely, was heavily extreme in most individuals’ eyes. When I woke to the sound of many different snores and a cell phone ringing somewhere, I groaned and tried to go back to sleep, still content with my choice of solace and most definitely still drunk from the night before.
The phone stopped ringing and a male grumbled, “Fuck off. We only went to sleep an hour ago.”
Peaceful quiet.
Until the cell phone started ringing again.
“Jesus Christ,” another male voice groused. “Turn the damn thing off.”
“I already answered it,” the first male voice griped. Then he hissed, “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Said. Fuck. Off.” An extended pause. “Sure you are, and I’m the President of the United States saying go fuck yourself.”
Adored quiet.
I groaned when the damn thing went off again and there was a resounding chorus of voices shouting a complaint, but this time when the male answered, he snarled, “Look, dickhead, I don’t give a shit—” He shut up. Snorted. “Are you shitting me? There’s no one even here with the name Caro and your constant calling is—”
“Wait!” I cut him off, lifting my head from the bare male stomach of the air Elemental I was using as a pillow. I leaned over the guy, gazing down at the floor. “Just give me the damn phone and I’ll take care of it.”
The fire Elemental tossed it up. “Here ya go, babe.”
I barely caught it before my head fell back onto hot flesh.
I held the phone to my ear, muttering, “You need to quit calling, buddy.”
Over the line, King Collins detailed with extreme slowness, “Get your ass home, now.” There was a definite bite to his tone, probably having to do with the fact I had snuck out last night before dinner.
I chuckled quietly, digging my feet under the covers and under the earth Elemental on the other side of me. “I’m a little drunk for that, but your request is interesting. Let me think on it while I sleep some more.”
“Sugar, hang the phone up,” the air Elemental murmured, petting my hair. “And you’re pulling the blanket off my feet.”
“Her damn feet are like ice,” the female earth Elemental muttered. “Let her have the blanket.”
“I won’t ask again,” King Collins said quietly with intent. “I want you home, now. Other guests have arrived and I want you here.”
I chuckled again, slurring, “Fine.”
“Good.” More slow words. “Lunch is in an hour. I expect you there.”
Turning the phone off, I wasn’t sure if his demand was even possible.
I lifted my head. “Where the hell am I, anyway?”
I was ten minutes late. I raced down the hallway of the Mage’s section of the Manor, burping quietly and banging into a wall, after paying off a Mage on the street to spell my hair from black to my normal white and hot pink. Said hair was still damp from my hurried shower in my room, and unfortunately I was still a bit tipsy as I slowed my pace. I inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to steady myself, then I turned into the kitchen for lunch.
I stopped dead in my tracks at what I saw.
The guests.
The One’s parents.
Oh dear God, I did not want to deal with them right now.
Unless I wanted to pivot on my heel—with everyone’s heads turned in my direction—and leave the room, I really didn’t think I had an option. I held down another burp and smiled pleasantly to them, dipping my head. “Hello, Mr and Mrs Damon.” My brows lifted. “I didn’t know you two were coming.”
Mr Damon’s gaze had already made a sweep of my person from head to toe, which included my favorite pair of holey jeans, a morbidly graphic, long-sleeved black shirt, and black boots. “Yes, well…” His head tilted toward Mrs Damon. “She can be very insistent.”
I wasn’t about to touch that comment.
Mrs Damon glanced at my wet hair. “Ms Jules, have you just now woken up?”
I waved a hand, heading toward the lunch buffet. “I needed a shower after my…workout. I’ve been up for a while now.”
“Were you exercising outside?” London asked, squinting at me. He pointed at his throat, and then at mine. “Because I think you have mud on your neck.”
I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe at my skin, cursing the quick shower. “I may have hit a bit of mud.”
My King distracted them, asking Mr Damon questions about Jacob Angel.
I bumped the counter with my left hip as I rounded it to fill up my plate, but I was fairly sure no one noticed. I brushed my hair out of my face and moved with grace the rest of the way to the table, sitting between King Collins and Brann. I couldn’t hold back the next burp, so I did it discreetly behind my glass of water, but I saw Brann sniff the air as he ate. His food stalled to his mouth before his fork continued to its destination. I knew he had smelled the vodka.