Chapter 16

A s Grant walked into Redmilla's behind Roman, he hoped to hell his ass looked half as fine in jeans as his mate's. While the other fallen knights in his now-graduated class had eagerly experimented with sex, Grant had lacked any interest. He hadn't bothered to question it. All Grant had cared about was being Venerable Knight.

But now that he'd gained his title and somehow met his other half on the same day, he was enjoying the spark of desire that flashed through him whenever his eyes met Roman's. There was no question that the minute he was alone, he'd take matters into his own hands and jerk off with Roman fresh on his mind.

"Grant, this is Redmilla Ursus Arctos," Roman said, stopping next to a long wooden bar that gleamed under the low lights. The woman behind it had red hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a friendly smile.

"Nice to meet you," Grant commented, offering his hand to the bear shifter.

Redmilla grinned. "Same. Congrats on your title."

"Thanks, appreciate it."

"What can I get you? I'm sure Roman's chomping at the bit to show you off to everyone in here."

Grant glanced around at the packed bar, then narrowed his eyes at Roman. They'd already established how much Grant disliked being the center of attention. If Roman did anything to embarrass him, Grant vowed silently to have his revenge.

"He better not," Grant remarked. Roman smiled in a way that unsettled Grant, so he scowled. "I don't really know about different beers. The kind I had at Roman's was good."

"Centaurian Brew," Roman said.

"Two of them coming up," Redmilla promised.

Roman leaned close to Grant, and he had to squash the urge to fondle that denim-clad ass. "Don't worry, I won't announce to all these fallen knights that they should congratulate you."

"Good, because I will get revenge if you do."

"I believe you," Roman replied with a chuckle.

Redmilla returned with two tall pilsner glasses, and Grant thanked her as he took his drink. When she walked off to serve another customer without asking for payment, Grant glared at Roman.

"You paid again, didn't you?"

"You have jeans to buy."

Grant rolled his eyes. "You can't pay for everything."

"Guess what, Grant?"

"What?"

"I kinda do what I want."

"Wow, you're annoying."

Roman laughed and waved at Grant to follow him. "Come on, our table is in the back."

Once again, Grant was delighted to be behind Roman so he could enjoy the view as they weaved their way through the tables. Unfortunately, Grant's presence didn't go unnoticed, and several fallen knights congratulated him as they passed.

They arrived at the table with two VKs and their mates, two RKs, the Lich Sentinel, and the Arch Lich. Then, to Grant's horror, Arvandus stood and whistled loud enough that every head in the bar swung toward him.

"Get your hands together, folks, you're in the presence of the newest Venerable Knight," Arvandus called out.

Not only did people clap, but chairs scraped across the floor as they stood and cheered. Grant set his drink on the table with a solid thunk. Forcing a smile on his face, he bowed gracefully at their tribute.

Roman rested his palm on Grant's back and pressed his lips to his ear. "Don't worry. We'll torture Arvandus somehow for this."

Delighted with his other half, Grant kissed his cheek. "Damn right we will."

Unfortunately, that tiny bit of affection thrilled their audience, and the noise in the bar grew exponentially.

"Sit down and drink your beers before Grant decides to defect to the Sentinel Brotherhood," Roman called out.

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" Brynnius asked as everyone did as they were told.

Grant could finally take a deep, calming breath.

"Because they lack qualified individuals in their leadership structure and are understandably jealous at how efficiently we work together as a team," Alaric explained as Grant and Roman took seats with the group.

"Maybe your qualifications are too easy and that's why you have more Skeleton Lords and Shadow Lords," Arvandus replied.

Alaric lifted a dark brow. "You appear to have forgotten that we have already raised our standards above your own, as every sentinel would have qualified for Shadow Lord if we used your score scaling."

"Why do you always give him opportunities to insist that the sentinels are superior to fallen knights?" Chander asked. Like Roman, the Arch Lich was dressed casually in a dark T-shirt. For some reason, it was odd for Grant to see a powerful sorcerer—the man whose spell had given him life—relaxing in jeans with a beer. Which was foolish. Chander was a person like everyone else. He just happened to have a vast amount of power at his disposal and a mark on his chest from Fate declaring him ruler of his people.

"It is not my insistence," Alaric corrected. "Sentinels are superior to fallen knights. That is not an opinion, Chand, but a fact. Is that not correct, Brynn? Albie?"

Brynnius glared at his ruler. "I do not want to agree with you in front of Sammy."

At his side, Samson roared with laughter. "That means he believes it but doesn't want to insult me."

"I don't remember being taught that as a fact in my training," Grant remarked.

"Of course not, you were primarily taught by fallen knights," Alaric stated.

"Do you have a problem with our curriculum, Lich Sentinel?" Drystan asked.

"If it makes you feel better to leave out the obvious truth of sentinel superiority, I can't fault you for your omission," Alaric said. "Although excluding the truth is essentially a lie."

"Not necessarily," Roman commented softly. "Sometimes omitting the truth is the better option. If you have knowledge of something that could hurt someone or affect them negatively, perhaps it's fairer to keep the information to yourself."

"But you're assuming that you know it'll be harmful," Chander argued, his pewter gaze glued to Roman's face. "How do you know for sure if you keep the truth to yourself?"

"A lie is a lie, Roman," Alaric added. "It is not always easy to tell a person something you fear may adversely affect them. However, you must allow them to decide for themselves how to handle the information. Do not think for anyone else."

Grant sipped his beer and didn't miss the strange undercurrents at the table. His resurrection had made him a detective. Those skills would be harnessed in the coming months and years, but it didn't take a seasoned fallen knight to grasp that the people at the table weren't speaking of a hypothetical situation.

"So, what's the deal?" Grant asked. "Is someone keeping a secret?"

" Whaaaaaat? " Arvandus replied. "No. What makes you think that?"

Arvandus's voice had gone strangely high-pitched, and fallen knights at the table were shaking their heads. Grant rolled his eyes. With the ability to ferret out lies, he already knew Arvandus wasn't being honest. However, Grant wasn't entitled to their secrets. "Okay, you answered my question. You don't want to tell me about whatever this is, that's fine. But you guys are terrible liars."

"Let's change the subject," Chander stated emphatically. "It's irrelevant today."

"If you say one thing about celebrating my title, I'm going to run out of here screaming," Grant vowed.

"Not a fan of the spotlight?" Arvandus asked, merriment dancing in his eyes.

"No, so maybe don't force an entire room full of people to cheer for me again," Grant replied.

"I'd get revenge if I were you," Samson said. "He did that without considering you might not want the adulation."

"Likely because he yearns for people to cheer for him whenever he walks into a room," Alaric replied dryly.

"No worries, Samson, Roman and I are going to plot together to make sure Arvandus pays," Grant said.

"Seriously?" Arvandus asked. "I did nothing wrong. Excuse me for being proud of you. In the history of the fallen knights, only you and Sam have earned the title of Venerable Knight. I want to fucking celebrate that. You deserve it."

"So, bake me a cake or something."

"Not in my kitchen," Brynnius muttered.

"Now you're trying to get me kicked out of my own condo," Arvandus complained. "If I mess up the kitchen, Victor will hand me my balls on a platter."

"I will allow no one near your balls," Albrecht commented succinctly in a smoky voice Grant envied. "Not even Victor."

Grant leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. "Buy a cake then, geez."

"I will make you something delicious," Brynnius promised. "What do you like so far?"

"Roman smells like delicious buttery popcorn. Can you do anything with that?"

Brynnius's brown gaze widened. "I haven't worked with popcorn other than to add chocolate to it sometimes. I'll look up some recipes."

"Oh man, you just made B's night. Nothing my mate loves more than experimenting with new recipes," Samson enthused, pressing a kiss to Brynnius's temple, heedless of the tangled hair hanging over his forehead.

"I don't think I've heard of anyone smelling like popcorn before," Conley said. "That's awesome."

"What does Grant smell like to you?" Brynnius asked Roman. "Perhaps I could incorporate it into a recipe with the popcorn."

Roman's gaze locked on Grant's face, and his lips curved. "Limes."

"Okay, that one makes perfect sense," Drystan remarked.

"Yep, those eyes," Chander added.

"Don't start complimenting my looks, it's weird," Grant complained. "I'll take that shit from my mate, but the rest of you can find something else to do with your time."

"What, like we're going to sit around and think about how hot you are?" Samson asked.

"See, I was starting to like you, but now you're trying to squeeze in sly compliments while making me sound like I'm full of myself," Grant teased.

"Yeah, but if you want an endless supply of sweet treats, you have to be nice to me," Samson replied.

Grant turned to a smiling Roman and shrugged. "He's really got me there, doesn't he?"

"Since I won't be in the kitchen making you cookies and shit, he definitely does."

"Go buy some cookies," Chander said.

"It won't be as delicious as anything B makes," Samson commented.

"I didn't say it would be, but I'm pointing out that there are options other than being nice to you," Chander retorted.

"Well, if you don't like anything about me, you only have yourself to blame since you're the one who resurrected me," Samson remarked with a cheeky grin.

"When did I say I didn't like something about you?" Chander asked in exasperation.

"I told you it is often impossible to speak to fallen knights without growing annoyed," Alaric told his mate.

Chander scowled at Alaric. "Haven't we talked about this before? You think you're insulting the fallen knights, but I'm their creator. If they have any of these so-called flaws that exist solely in your mind, you're insinuating that I'm to blame."

"Unlike the sentinels, we never had a flaw," Arvandus commented.

"Don't bring up our former flaw, you'll upset Albie," Brynnius warned.

"I'm not trying to upset Apple, I'm talking to Alaric," Arvandus argued.

"Don't mind the Darays, they can't help being nuts," Roman said.

"So are you," Arvandus insisted.

"Anyway, how's the apartment, Grant?" Drystan asked.

"Nice, thanks for finding it for me. I think it'll work perfectly until Roman and I reach a point where we're ready to cohabitate at his beautiful condo," Grant answered.

"I'm glad you already took him there to see it," Arvandus said, beaming a bright smile at Roman. "And you're right, Grant, it's beautiful. Roman decorated it by himself."

"He bitched about being complimented about drapes and shit but didn't mention he was the one who picked everything out," Grant said, glancing over at Roman. He didn't miss the way the Venerable Knight ducked his head. "You did an incredible job."

Roman glanced up. "Thanks, I'm glad you like it."

Unable to resist the urge, Grant leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Roman's. Roman's fingers caressed his jaw and drifted into his hair. It was a nearly innocent kiss, but Grant's heart did a happy little flip in his chest.

Roman pulled away and smiled. He brushed his mouth with Grant's a second time. "Lovely."

"Hell yes."

"Oh, Sam, they're so cute!" Arvandus exclaimed. "I thought I'd hate sharing an office with them canoodling constantly, but this is going to be so much fun."

"Want to make a bet on how long it's going to be before I punch Arvandus?" Grant asked Roman.

Roman laughed and stroked Grant's chin. "Nope. I can already envision it."

"This is still the best damn day of my life," Grant told Roman honestly.

Roman's smile was gorgeous, and Grant loved the happiness dancing in his blue gaze. "Mine too."