Page 387 of Immune

“Dirty little rat,” I hiss, shoving at his shoulder and receiving a growl from Maine when I move. Again.

“That’s Mr. Dirty Little Rat, thank you very much,” the Welshman teases, grinning over at me like he’s enjoying himself a little too much. He’s damned lucky I love him. They’re all lucky I love them, otherwise I’d have suffocated them all in their sleep long before now.

Kaito sits on my other side and hands me one of the mugs. “Here. It’s tea. Drink that before you eat the cake.”

“So bossy,” I sigh, shaking my head like I’m deeply bothered by it. I’m not. Not even close.

“Yup,” he agrees easily, right before he kisses my shoulder, right over one pale patch of skin. When he sits back up, he stays close enough that his thigh rests against mine. Casual and grounding. Not a cage. Never a cage.

Lifting the mug to my nose, I inhale before asking, “Did Xeon make this?”

“Yup,” Kaito answers, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Thought so,” I say. “Smells responsible.”

Ewan looks positively aghast. “What the hell? My tea smells exciting. What’s wrong with that?”

“Your tea tastes of leaf crimes,” I tell him honestly.

“That’s because this place has shit tea. Get me a Tetley or Earl Grey teabag and you’ll be drinking it out of the palm of my hand,” he argues, not for the first time.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “A poor workman blames his tools.”

“You know, that’s really bold coming from the woman who once drank rainwater from a welly.”

“I had standards. They were in hell, but they were there all the same,” I argue. Then I narrow my eyes on him and mutter, “You also said we’d never talk about that again.”

“Proving a point, my Tiny Terror,” he snickers.

Asswad.

Kaito’s mouth softens as he listens to us, and Maine paints another nail while shaking his head. “I missed so much madness.”

“Eh, you came back for the finale, mate,” Ewan jokes.

Maine glances at him. “I also came back to find out my sister had collected Alphas like Pokémon cards.”

I brighten. “Shiny, dramatic, and weirdly powerful.”

Kaito blinks. “Dramatic?”

I pat his knee. “Only in mint condition.”

Xeon arrives next with a small tin in one hand. Of course he does. He looks at the roof, my tea, at the cake, at my face, and then holds out the tin. “You forgot lunch again.”

“I did not,” I counter, lying through my teeth. He knows it, too, because his eyebrow raises and his lips twitch a little. I roll my eyes and gesture my head to the packet on my lap. “I remembered cake.”

“That’s not lunch.”

“Awfully close-minded of you. Shame on that attitude,” I sigh.

With a shake of his head, he pulls the tin back and opens it for me. Inside are little savory pastries from the kitchen, still warm. My stomach betrays me worse than Ewan the moment I smell them, releasing a sound that would easily draw a horde of Zeds our way if any were nearby.

Ewan points at Xeon. “The man is fluent in the language of stomachs.”

Nodding, Xeon lowers himself next to my outstretched legs, close enough to pass me one of the pastries without disturbing Maine’s masterpiece. He still does that. Notices. Brings food. Tea. Water. A blanket. A blade when I forget mine on a table and then act like the table personally offended me.

He doesn’t make a fuss, he simply turns care into something I can hold.