33. Mira

thirty-three

Mira

After a long night sleeping alone to get some clarity, I'm looking forward to talking with everyone all together again. We need a solution. At lunchtime I step into the makeshift dining room Bobble has set up. Apparently there's no formal dining area in this underground mansion of Tairyn's because, in his words, why the fuck would I have that?

Apparently, eating at his desk is all he knows. I think back to the woman I was not too long ago, alone after work each night, save for my little orange tabby cat. Most nights would just be me with a plate of whatever takeout or perhaps a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (or three) on that yellow couch binge watching Netflix or playing some old school console games.

My eyes dart to Tairyn's as he eyes the formal place settings and the low floral centerpiece in the middle of this large circular table, a detail I'm sure Bobble insisted upon with the small set of staff here.

I hope he's not a jerk. I might ring his neck if he insults Bobble for putting this together. The décor is beautiful and simple, a sampling of all my favorite colors, I note. I beam at him. "This is lovely! I can't believe you put this together so quickly."

He gives me a sheepish grin before the door to the hall opens with a bang, revealing our last participant, Callum, who is curiously covered in paint splatter.

"So glad you could join us." Sunder's snark immediately puts me on edge. Surprisingly, Tairyn joins him in chiding Callum for his punctuality. "Just like you to always be a disappointment."

Callum opens his mouth to retort, but I interrupt him. "Let's eat before the food gets cold. It smells so good in here. What's on the menu?"

I take my seat between Tairyn and Sunder. Bobble pulls out the chair for Callum before taking his seat on Sunder's other side.

"Well, I know how much like a traditional Thanksgiving feast, so I thought maybe we'd go with that. We've got a whole turkey, southern style cornbread dressing, green bean casserole, sweet potato souffle, and pumpkin pie of course."

"Technically, it's dressin'. You don't pronounce the g, Bobs." I correct him with a grin.

As if on queue, the serving girl brings in the first course. The tartlets are perfectly golden brown, with flaky pastry crusts and a sprinkle of fragrant thyme on top. The melted brie and cranberry filling creates a tantalizing swirl of colors clouded by steam.

My mouth waters as the scents fill my nose. I don't wait to see what everyone else does. I dig in. The first bite is a burst of flavors in my mouth - the flaky crust, the creamy brie, the tangy cranberries, and a hint of black pepper. It's a perfect balance of sweet and savory. The divine flavors elicit a soft moan from my chest as I close my eyes to savor this perfect treat.

When I'm done chewing my first orgasmic bite, I open my eyes to tell them how delicious it is, only to notice that all my mates have their eyes fixed intently on me. I blink in surprise, eyeing Bobble for reassurance. Did I break some etiquette?

My cheeks flush as I catch Tairyn's eyes feasting on my lips with a carnal hunger before clearing his throat and averting his deep gaze.

Oh.

"Soooo….," Bobble starts, glancing around the table for someone to engage with. I push the rising heat in my chest out of my thoughts as I finish my tart. "Good thing we trained so hard yesterday, right Sunder? No guilt Thanksgiving."

Sunder grunts his appreciation around the mouthful of tart.

Tairyn smirks to himself, and I know he's about to make some comment about the kind of workout they had. Before Sunder can notice, I pipe in. "Callum, you look like you've been painting."

His tortured eyes meet mine, twisting my gut with guilt. "I have." He glances over at Bobble before meeting my gaze again. "I found some excellent books about the history behind some of our masterworks here and how they originally developed the pigments. I got curious and wanted to try mixing some myself. It's nice to work with my hands."

"Being imprisoned does take that opportunity away," Sunder bites out.

I glance between him and Tairyn, noting the unwavering eye contact being exchanged between them.

Callum's eyes flick to Sunder, a subtle flash of annoyance in his gaze. "Perhaps some of us are better equipped to handle confinement than others," he retorts, a pointed look aimed at Sunder.

I almost choke on my tart. Did Callum just defend Tairyn in some way or was it simply an insult meant for Sunder? Tairyn taps his fingers on the table lightly with a smirk on his lips, no doubt enjoying the show. "In fairness, Callum chose that cell over the much nicer accommodations I offered him."

Bobble's eyes cut across the table, disbelief clear. "You wanted to be there?"

"Can we please just have a meal without bickering?" I interject, pulling their attention to me. All four pairs of eyes turn, varying levels of surprise and amusement reflected in their gazes. As the main course is served, our plates are piled high with comfort foods that make my heart ache for home, if only for a moment.

"Tell me. What kind of holidays do the fae have?"

I'm almost surprised to hear myself talk as the chef retreats from the awkward stillness of our table. So finely decorated yet surrounded by animosity. A juxtaposition for sure.

"We celebrate the solstices, but that's about it."

"No old men breaking and entering to eat your sweets and leave behind things you don't need?"

Sunder cocks an eyebrow at me in a befuddled look, and I chuckle. "Santa Claus?"

Tairyn shifts his weight in his seat, and I note that he hasn't even taken a bite of the food. "They don't celebrate Christmas or other human holidays here. The Gods would frown greatly on those who choose to worship any others. They tolerate us acknowledging Mother Nature and other natural gods with disdain."

"You speak like you know them personally."

He makes a casual shrug with one shoulder. "I made a bid at the Council of Gods once, but I wouldn't say I know them."

He says it so casually that I don't understand the immediate tension around the table from my other mates.

"Bullshit." Sunder spits. "No one makes a bid in front of The Council, least of all a common fae Soul Shard piece of shit like you."

Bobble's back goes straight as Tairyn's grin turns feral, but Callum cuts in before he pounces. "It's true. Though, if I remember correctly, they threatened to level the whole realm if he ever showed his face there again. I was there when he opened their answer."

"Why?" I ask, shocked.

"Because it's the Gods," Callum replies matter-of-factly, as if that explains everything.

Tairyn, still smirking like the cat that got the cream, leans back in his chair and idly sips his wine.

"Let me get this straight. You waltzed into the Council of Gods, a lowly commoner without even half a soul, with another Shard in chains to demand… what exactly?"

Sunder's left eye twitches subtly as he says it, and I swallow thickly in my throat as my eyes dart from one man to the next. I don't know what they're fighting about, but this room is a powder keg. I pick up a piece of turkey and take a bite, but I can't even taste it. Still, I nod to myself and mutter about how good it is under my breath.

"Actually, that was before we met. I wasn't there for the bid itself," Callum corrects him quietly.

Tairyn sets his cup back on the table before leaning forward, much too intense for the casual tone in which he says, "Your corpse."

The room stills as Sunder raises his chin, as if to challenge Tairyn, who simply leans back with a raised eyebrow.

"Ignore him," Bobble pleads.

"What did you really request?" I ask, partially to let Sunder know it was a goad. But also because I'm curious. He turns his eyes to me, the edges softening almost imperceptibly with anguish. The pause between us almost seems like he's considering telling me. Maybe he would, if we were alone.

Callum lets out a tired sigh, and Sunder grunts an agreement.

"Do you know anything other than ape? Honestly, Mira. I don't understand what this idiot has to offer you." Tairyn's mocking is blade-sharp.

The loud, jarring clatter of Sunder's chair crashing to the floor causes me to gasp in surprise. The suddenness of his movement, along with Tairyn's swift reaction, leaves me reeling for a moment. The sound echoes through the room, filling the air with tension and apprehension. My heart races as I watch them both stand up, their movements quick and urgent, like predators ready to pounce on their prey.

"Are you so threatened by me that you constantly feel the need to mock me?"

Where Sunder's voice is a echoing roar, Tairyn's is dangerously quiet. "Let me use small words so that you can understand, friend. You aren't worthy of being a shard of me. And you sure as hell aren't worthy of being her mate."

I bite my lip, not sure whether I should intervene. But sometimes the only way for a group of cats to work out their differences is to let them fight out the pecking order amongst themselves. Not like they're all cats, but maybe some part of them. That tracks, right?

I stare at my plate, hoping Sunder takes the high road, but I know him well enough by now. Holding my breath, I wait for the impending brawl.

Then Bobble stands, his chair slowly grating against the stone beneath as he glares at each of us in turn, pain twisting his normally jovial features, before he storms out of the room. The feast he arranged curdles in my mouth with guilt. He worked so hard to bring us together, and this is how we repay him.

I wait only three heart beats before following him, but when I make it to the corridor, he's already gone. Probably scampered away as Bobble Cat. I consider following him through the bond, but he clearly wants to be alone right now. I find his thread in the three bonds I now carry as I make my way back to my room.

His is the softest. The one that wraps around me the tightest when I need it most. I take it in my mind, giving it a small, loving tug. I hope he feels it.