Chapter Fourteen
Kaspyn decided she liked Oz. It was no doubt his Bracadyte blood that swayed her in his favor, she told herself, flicking a glance at Thrasher to find him watching her with an unguarded look. Was that lust she saw swimming in his sky-blue eyes?
Her stomach flipped.
Thrasher looked away, shifting his attention to Oz, who was still speaking. “Enough about that for now. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open at all times, and no one leaves the area alone. On an up note, I had some food prepared and delivered to the clubhouse. I hope everyone likes pasta.”
Kaspyn had never heard of pasta, but she was willing to eat just about anything at the moment. Her stomach had been growling since she’d arrived at Playa Pilar.
Everyone began to disburse up the stairs and out into the night air.
Thrasher strode up next to Kaspyn, his hands in the pockets of his black pants. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier about your attire.”
Kaspyn couldn’t believe he actually apologized. She knew it had to have cost him dearly to utter those words. “There is nothing to apologize for. It was merely your opinion. It meant nothing.”
“It wasn’t my opinion.”
She couldn’t have heard him right. “Then why did you say it?”
“Look,” he began, taking hold of her arm, and tugging her to a stop. “The damn makeup looks good on you, okay? Better than good. You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever—I mean—Shit,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”
Kaspyn could only stare, slack mouthed. Not only had he just told her she was beautiful, but he’d called her a woman. Not a female, not a girl, not a princess or a Bracadyte, but a woman.
Unsure of how to respond, Kaspyn nodded and turned to go.
“So, that’s it?” Thrasher bit out. “I try to apologize and you brush me off like an insignificant gnat?”
She didn’t understand half of what he’d just said.
He suddenly curled his lip and sauntered off, leaving her to stare at his retreating back.
Kaspyn entered the building Oz had referred to as the clubhouse, her gaze seeking out the brooding Thrasher.
She found him standing next to a table, holding a plate in his hand and scooping up what looked to be worms onto its surface. “You humans consume the strangest shits.”
He glanced up at her. “Shit doesn’t always mean things, Kaspyn. Only in certain sentences.”
“Elaborate, please.”
He finished piling the worms onto his plate and covered them with a red substance. “Okay. For instance, you could say, I have things to do or I have shit to do. Same meaning. But what sort of things are on my plate would not be the same as what sort of shits would be on my plate.”
Shaking her head, Kaspyn moved closer to the table. “Not only do you eat strange food, but you speak a strange language as well.”
“It’s called slang. Try the spaghetti. I think you’ll like it.”
“Spaghetti? It appears to be worms.”
He barked out a laugh. “I reckon it does. But I assure you, it’s not worms. It’s pasta noodles. Here, I’ll make you a plate.”
Setting his own food aside, Thrasher picked up a plate and piled some noodles onto it before covering it with the red substance. He handed it to her along with a fork. “Try it.”
Kaspyn attempted to stab the noodles with the fork with little success.
“Not like that,” he gently scolded, taking the fork from her fingers and twirling it through the noodles. He then lifted it to her mouth. “Open.”
The softly spoken word seemed more of a caress than a command.
Kaspyn opened her mouth, accepting the offering. She closed her lips around the fork and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as the flavor suddenly burst across her tongue.
Swallowing, she stared into Thrasher’s sky-blue eyes. “I have never tasted anything like it before.”
He lowered the fork and twirled it through the pasta once more. “Wait until you try the cheesecake.”
She opened her mouth again, allowing him to place another bite of the incredible tasting food onto her tongue.
“If you two are done making out,” Oz teased, snatching up a plate of his own. “The rest of us are waiting to eat.”
Though Kaspyn didn’t understand the meaning of making out, she backed up to allow the others to reach the table.
Thrasher handed her the fork and moved to the opposite side of the room to finish his meal.
Brant moved up to the table, offering Kaspyn a friendly smile. “He’s really not that bad, you know.”
Kaspyn took another bite of the delicious spaghetti. “Whom do you refer?”
“Thrasher.”
“I do not care what he is. He is a land walker to me. As are you.”
Brant chuckled. “So you say. The only difference in humans and Bracadytes are fangs and barbs. Other than that, we all bleed red.”
Kaspyn had heard enough. “Perhaps I should cut you and find out.”
Shaking his head, Brant continued to go about his business of making his plate.
It was Gryke’s turn to barrel his way up to the table. He met Kaspyn’s gaze and curled his lip in anger. “I understand the disdain you hold for the land walkers. I have a certain resentment for them myself. But not all humans are the same, just as all Bracadytes differ to some degree. The humans that are here with us now, are here to help us. They risk their lives for us by simply being here. You would do well to remember that.”
“You are mated to a land walker,” Kaspyn pointed out. “Does it not concern you that by breeding with the humans, you are diluting the Bracadyte bloodlines? That one day we will no longer exist?”
Gryke paused in piling spaghetti on his plate. “We will always exist, Kaspyn. No matter who we choose to breed with. Mixing our blood with another does not change who we are inside. It might alter the DNA of our future offspring, but it does not make them less than.”
Kaspyn let Gryke’s words sink in. Was she being too critical of the land walkers?
Her gaze shifted to Thrasher where he stood along the wall. If she were honest with herself, she would admit to noticing a certain strength and intelligence in the human. He obviously cared about what happened to the Bracadytes or he wouldn’t be there. He’d even gone as far as blood bonding with them.
He suddenly lifted his head and met her gaze. Kaspyn’s stomach fluttered.
Why did he affect her in such a way?
She slowly lowered her fork and set her plate down onto the edge of the table. It wouldn’t do any harm to go over and talk to him.
“May I have everyone’s attention?”
Oz’s voice caught Kaspyn off guard, stopping her from going to Thrasher’s side. She turned her attention on their host, grateful he’d interrupted her intensions when he did.
“I want everyone to understand that I have this part of the island surrounded,” Oz announced. “There are men in the trees keeping watch day and night. As Thrasher pointed out, I have a traitor in my midst. And until that man is located, we all need to watch our backs. I can monitor what goes on around here from my home. I have cameras everywhere. But as Gryke and Tony have already witnessed, that’s no guarantee we won’t be ambushed.”
Swiveling his head around, Oz made eye contact with everyone in the room. “I think Thrasher is right in that Kerik won’t attack until you have all boarded the boat to leave. Now, with that being said, I’m going to call a meeting with two of my men, and tell them that you have been in contact with Klause. I will also inform them that Klause is giving you one week to locate Howell. If he isn’t found in that time frame, you are to return to Aukrabah at once. No one besides the people in the room will know the truth of our plan.”
Everyone nodded or murmured their consent. Kaspyn included.