Dragon Marked_ Supernatural Prison #1(45)

She couldn’t sleep? It was more serious than I’d thought. I tried to hold back my smile but couldn’t. “You’re just not used to it. Supernaturals are violent bastards; it’s a wolf eat wolf world here.” I was talking metaphorically since there were so many different races. “And you have us to watch your back also. Trust me, you couldn’t have better supes in your corner.”

Tyson patted Mischa on the shoulder. “She’s not kidding.”

Despite the fight between Maximus and Tyson on the day of Markus’ staged murder, there had been no more drama in the group. Mischa had been mostly accepted into our inner circle, although I sensed a small sliver of distrust still, mainly from Tyson.

The wizard continued with his wisdom. “It will drive you crazy if you worry too much. Today’s worry does not prevent tomorrow’s woes. We just have to accept what will come and do our best to protect each other.”

Smart, smug bastard. He made good points though. He still seemed a little out of it as he gazed across the town. I was starting to think that seeing Grace had really knocked him around.

“Come on, Jessa needs to get to bed.” Braxton started hurrying us along the path again.

“Jake,” I called to the blond fey.

He bounded over to my side. “You called for me, Jessa babe?” He wrapped one of his long arms tightly around my shoulder.

“Can you sing for me?” My head was starting to throb again and his voice was the most soothing thing in the world.

His voice was uncharacteristically low. “I’d do anything for you.” And then he started to sing.

It was my favorite faerie ballad, haunting, hypnotic, soothing. It was the song of birth or de la entréed. The fey sing it when one of their babies are born, to welcome them into the world. I yawned loudly.

My feet were swept out from under me as Jacob scooped me into his arms.

“You guys are my best friends … and I love you,” I said sleepily, as I closed my eyes. “I don’t tell you that enough.” I could have died today. The thought that I should tell my friends and family how much they meant to me had flashed through my mind when that punch landed.

Jacob chuckled again, his chest moving under me. “We love you too. You’re our pack, our family. Don’t go almost dying on us again.”

I felt hands brush along my face and knew the others were using their warmth to comfort me. With that warmth, and the final humming remnants of Jacob’s song, I drifted off to sleep.





Chapter 9




It was time for my date. I’d spent most of the afternoon in bed, but despite Braxton’s constant arguing against me leaving, I couldn’t lie around any longer. Besides, I’d made a deal and I was not backing out of it. To be fair, I was a little intrigued to see what this Louis was all about. To see if maybe it was he who had set up the Compasses – to reveal the secrets of the marked in the prison.

An hour before Louis was due to arrive, I kicked the boys out and got ready. Then once I was ready, Mischa came in and redid absolutely everything. Sisters are annoying.

Mischa was sprawled across my bed. “You look amazing. I’m glad I talked you out of shorts and found a dress you’d accept.”

Okay, so she had a pretty great eye for fashion. Since I’d never actually been on a date, I did appreciate her input. The casual relationships I usually pursued did not leave much need for dating or fancy clothes. Or clothes of any description really.

I flittered off the bed, the dress swishing around my thigh as I ducked over and gave her a hug.

“Thanks for lending me the clothes.” I’d have been hard pressed to find a dress of any description in my closet. I’d never felt limited having mainly male friends but, well … I was starting to see that girls had a pretty important place too, and my sister kind of rocked.

The dress was a dark blue and I was surprised by the difference it brought to the color of my eyes and the highlights in my very dark hair. It had thin straps and was fitted across the breasts before falling in silky lengths to mid-thigh. I teamed it with my black converses because I’d probably kill myself in heels. Mischa had approved, saying it was modern tomboy girlie. Whatever that meant. She’d tackled me into the chair and had applied the lightest layer of makeup and lined my eyes with kohl and lengthened my lashes with mascara. Standing before the full length mirror in the upstairs bathroom, I was surprised by how I looked. Like myself, only … sort of more.

Moving back into my room I shoved Mischa across the bed to sit next to her. We sat in silence for a few minutes. It was nice, though, we’d almost reached the point where we didn’t have to fill our moments with chatter.