Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle 3)

How would Grey feel if Lucien asked Cort out? Not too good. He was already attracted to Cort and more than a little possessive when it came to his vision therapist. There was something in his touch that just got to Grey, some elusive feeling he’d never felt before. He wanted to explore it more but still hesitated.

“He is very good-looking,” Wiley piped up from Grey’s right. “Reminds me of an Instagram model I follow.”

Baer growled at him and Wiley laughed. “I’m taken, not dead.”

“Very taken,” Baer said, and there was the loud smack of a kiss.

Footsteps came up behind the couch and Dane spoke. “Dinner is almost ready. The bread needs a few more minutes. Smells fantastic, Wiley.”

“I just followed a recipe. Homemade bread sounded good for some reason.” There was a pause; then Wiley continued. “I found another healing spell.”

Grey perked up. “Oh, yeah?”

“There are a couple of supplies I need to order before we can try it.”

“I was also thinking about trying again,” Dane announced, still behind Grey. “Maybe it’s only a matter of focus.”

Maybe this time it’ll work, and I can stop feeling like a failure.

Grey hated that Dane felt so bad about his inability to heal him. As always, he could hear it in the man’s voice. Of course, his thoughts were also quite loud when it came to Grey’s injury.

The oven timer beeped, and the couch shifted as Wiley jumped up and hurried into the kitchen, his footsteps quick across the tile kitchen floor. Grey took another sip of the whiskey, savoring its burn.

“Dinner’s ready,” Clay called out. “I hope you guys enjoy the spaghetti sauce. It was my grandmother’s recipe, and my mom took years to perfect it. It’s only my second time making it, so be warned.”

Grey stood and slowly made his way around the couch into the kitchen. The wonderful scents increased, and his stomach grumbled. He was looking forward to this meal. Maybe he could ignore all the mind ramblings taking up space in his head. People milled about and he paused, not wanting to bump into anyone.

“I’m making you a plate, Grey,” Dane said. “We actually cleaned off the table in the dining room, so we’re eating in there.”

Grey thanked him and started to walk through, but there were a lot of bodies shuffling about.

Someone wrapped a hand around his arm. “Let me help you get through all these hungry assholes,” Lucien murmured.

“Thanks,” he replied.

They walked through the kitchen and into the dining room. Grey felt for the back of a chair and pulled it out before sitting. He set his whiskey onto the table and thanked Dane again when the man put a plate in front of him. He could have gotten his own food, and it kind of irked him that the others felt they should wait on him, but part of him was thankful. He probably would have gotten red sauce everywhere and not known it. As it was, spaghetti was going to be a challenge. He ran a hand down his white shirt and grimaced. Oh, well.

The others all joined him, and soon the clink of utensils on plates filled the room. The conversation moved to the repairs going on in the house and he mostly tuned that out as he concentrated on wrapping spaghetti around a fork and getting it to his mouth without splattering it all over his shirt. He wiped his mouth after every bite, sure he had sauce on his face several times.

“It’s really good,” he told Clay. “So is the bread, Wiley. Did you put full cloves of garlic in it?”

“I did. They really cooked up well in this. We’ll have to have this again.”

“I vote yes,” Baer stated around what sounded like a mouthful of food. He was sitting to Grey’s right, his solid form brushing against Grey every now and then. He smelled faintly sweaty from when he’d been outside playing fetch with Ruby.

As if thinking about her had the power to summon her from wherever she’d been sleeping, he heard the click of her toenails on the wood floor as she entered the room. Where there was food, there was usually Ruby.

Where was Wiley’s cat, Queenie? He listened for the fainter patter of paws but didn’t hear them. She was probably avoiding everyone. The only person she seemed to like besides Wiley was Lucien. She hadn’t even warmed up to Baer much. She ignored Grey altogether.

Cats never seemed to like Grey much.

He took another bite, the tomato sauce and Italian spices exploding on his tongue. Clay was going to have to make this often—it was that good.

“Cort seems like a great guy,” Clay said. “How go the sessions?”

“You mean when he’s not confused over giraffes in the backyard?” Grey grinned.

“Sorry about that,” Baer murmured, knocking his shoulder. “I just wanted to see if I could be one.”