Dragon Marked_ Supernatural Prison #1(12)

“Fuck off, we’re full tonight,” I heard him holler to a few very persistent shifters. He was shaking his head when he walked back in. “The witches are so sensitive. I only have to hint that their ass is too big and they run for the hills. But shifters, you guys are tough as nails. I can’t even insult them away from the front door.”

“You’re a bastard, Ty,” I said as I snuggled down into the lounge, my lack of sleep and emotionally trying day getting the better of me. If my stomach wasn’t trying to eat itself I’d have been flat out snoring already.

“It’s not my fault witches’ metabolisms are not as fast as the other supes,” he said, flopping down on the other side of me.

I was rolling my eyes under my closed eyelids. Tyson loved curves of all descriptions, he was just talking his usual shit. And speaking of metabolism, my eyes flew open as the scent of food tantalized my senses. Jacob was pushing in the buffet sideboard and on it was a ton of food. Generally we ate in the large dining hall with everyone else; it was a place of bonding for the supernatural community. But on nights we didn’t want to mingle with the masses, the boys had a service that provided them with meals. My body rose off the chair of its own accord. I was angling to be first in line for food.

“I tell you, if I can find a woman who looks at me the way Jessa looks at food, I’ll be a lucky man,” I heard Maximus murmur to Braxton.

Masculine laughter echoed around, but I was too hungry to care. It was Italian night. Be still my beating heart.

I started crazy muttering to myself before grabbing a plate. “Food, get over here so I can eat you.”

Walking the length, I piled the plate high with pasta, pizza and breads. I’d be back for dessert. Crossing into the next room I sat at the dining table. It was a hand-carved masterpiece: thick dark wood, turned legs, and long bench seats on either side. It was made from one of the big red oaks that had come down in a massive storm; the colors and patterns that threaded its length were almost mesmerizing. Braxton had spent weeks painstakingly stripping it back and carving the ornate legs. Even on the odd nights when some of the Compasses ate in front of the television, I always sat at the table. And so did Braxton.

Tonight everyone joined me. Braxton on my right and Maximus on the left. Jacob and Tyson were across from us, and our five trays were piled high enough to feed a small country. I started without words, or breathing. The food inhaled into my stomach.

Jacob was grinning at me. “The way you eat is a work of art.”

I flipped him off before resuming my pleasure.

When I slowed a little I took a moment to peer across to Braxton’s tray – damn, he had meatballs – he always found food I missed in my haste. Reaching out with my fork I stabbed one. Braxton never batted an eye, he was used to me stealing from his plate.

“Anyone else would lose an arm.” That was a mutter from Tyson.

Braxton and I ignored him. I stole a few more bits and pieces from him, and then he finished off my lasagna and pepperoni pizza. We had a routine and there was no point messing with a good thing.

Jacob took away the plates and was back in moments with a tray of desserts. I had my knife and fork in my hands, prepared to use them if necessary. The chocolate cake and ice cream was mine. It felt like the world held its breath just before the tray hit the wooden table, and then it was on. I dived across Braxton, kicking Maximus in the face. Jacob had jumped back. He had the lesser sweet tooth of any of us. The fight was pretty fair right up until the point Tyson’s eyes glowed gold. I leveled a finger in his direction.

“Don’t do it, Tyson Compass.”

Apparently I wasn’t scary enough, because the tray levitated high into the air.

He changed his tune of course as Braxton and Maximus recovered from my surprise attack and also fixed their gazes on him.

“Oh shit,” Tyson said. Although he didn’t really look worried.

“Not your smartest move, wizard.” Braxton was grinning lazily. “Jessa has that look on her face. You’re about to lose an eye.”

In reality, I was judging the distance to the tray, wondering if I could make the jump. Maybe if Maximus gave me a boost. Before I could launch off the chair, though, the plate with the cake and ice cream drifted down to rest in front of me. Tyson winked at me.

“You’ve had a hard night, Jessa babe, the cake’s yours.” The rest of the tray lowered. “And I’d like all of my body parts to stay attached to me.” He ran a hand over his left ear.

“It was an accident,” I protested. “As if I would on purpose cut your ear off.”

A couple of years ago I’d been giving Tyson a haircut when someone burst into the room and startled me. Let’s just say it’s lucky we heal fast and have regenerative properties. Or he’d have been a little lopsided.