Home > Broken Compass (Supernatural Prison Story #1)(2)

Broken Compass (Supernatural Prison Story #1)(2)
Author: Jaymin Eve

 As the word left my lips, I found myself looking over my shoulder, expecting my mother to magically appear and smack me up the side of the head. Lienda Lebron did not like us ladies cursing, which made life very interesting when she was around Jessa.

 My sister laughed. “Dude! I think you need this book more than me. We have to update your vocab. I don’t want to hear ‘gosh golly gee’ out of your mouth one more time.”

 I swatted her with the book. “I’ve never said golly gee in my life.”

 “Whatever,” Jessa said. “I’m still saying this book is your fault. The coloring made you all Zen and stuff, even with a baby taking up what feels like permanent residence in your uterus and kicking the crap out of you, so I ordered one through the Guilds. I, of course, went for something more interesting than Nature’s Beauty.”

 Of course she did. The eff bomb was like her favorite word ever. It was true though, I loved coloring and drawing. I found moments of peace when I was absorbed in my art, and probably wouldn’t have made it through the last few months without that creative outlet.

 Jessa clearly hadn’t felt the same way.

 “So … seeing the pencils are now strewn across the room, I’m going to guess it wasn’t the relaxing experience you were hoping for.”

 She growled, catching me by surprise, but at least I didn’t jump anymore. After spending twenty-plus years hidden in the human world, I’d only known about this supernatural world for a few months, I was slowly getting used to all the weird. Although wrapping my head around the fact that I turned into an animal, a wolf like my sister … was hard. Seriously. Who could say that about themselves?

 Jessa lurched to her feet and I followed. Both of us had to push the bench back to free our baby bellies. Even though I was a month or so further along, her rounded bump was almost the same size as mine. With two little ones in there, that wasn’t a big surprise.

 “I don’t even understand how you can think this is anything other than stressful. Not only do I have to stay in the lines, but I have no idea what color to choose. Why did I get the hundred and twenty pencil pack? Why?” She threw her hands up. “I give up, you can keep your Zen. I’m going to go and punch the crap out of a Compass or something.”

 That would be her relaxing happy place.

 “I’m sure we can think of another way for you to relax.”

 As the deep voice washed over us, everything about my sister changed. The pinched brow, the stress lines across her face, all of that vanished, to be replaced by something I could only describe as desire and joy. Joy in its purest form.

 It was painful to look at, and yet I craved to see it at the same time. Life had been a lot like that lately, a warring inside of me. It was like fire. I loved the flames, the heat and the energy, but I also knew it could hurt me, could burn through the delicate layers of my skin to permanently leave a scar. Funny how the things we crave are often those which could hurt us the most.

 Jessa moved then, fast, so much more graceful than she should be in her condition. Braxton was perched in the doorway. He was one of the Compass quads, famous, powerful – newly appointed leaders of the United States supernatural community.

 Somehow the quads were born of hybrid parents, Jack – shifter-fey father – and Jo – vampire-sorceress mother, but each had a pure soul of the four different supernatural races. Faerie, vampire, magic user and shifter. The only one they didn’t have a representative in was demi-fey. But we’d recently learned they were really just a branch of the fey, so the boys actually had all the races covered. This made them uniquely powerful. They were the pack my sister had been lucky enough to grow up in.

 In the supernatural community, some packs you were born into and some packs you chose. Jessa and the quads had been best friends since they were two, and had formed their own pack. There were no ceremonies or blood exchanges like I’d have guessed, just their inner shifter, vamp, magic user, and fey accepting and bonding with the others.

 And now I was one of them. I hadn’t been here quite half a year, and the time had not been smooth or without drama, but somehow they accepted me and my wolf. We were pack.

 Standing in the entrance behind Braxton were his brothers. Jacob with his white-blond hair and grass-green eyes was fey. Tyson with auburn hair and beautiful honeysuckle irises was wizard, a magic user. The final of their quartet, the one who was missing, was Maximus, the massive, beautiful, and lethal vampire. With dirty-blond hair, deep rich brown eyes, and tawny skin draped across tight muscles, he was built like a warrior and fought like one too. He was also the one supernatural or “supe” that I tried very hard not to think about because we shared a past, and also a soon-to-be-born baby that he knew nothing of.

 Jessa reached Braxton and flung herself into his arms. He scooped her up like she weighed nothing. Which to him she probably didn’t. As the two of them went into their usual greeting, involving lots of touching, and hot, hot kisses, the rest of us strode into the living room. I found myself drifting toward Tyson. The mage and I had bonded lately. Something about our shared pain gave us common ground.

 He dropped down onto the couch, running a hand through his auburn-tinged hair. It was just starting to get some length back again, but I knew he was thinking about cutting it. The shorter, Mohawk style reminded him of Grace, the healer witch who he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind. She’d magically cut his hair in a fit of anger and now a part of him thought of it as foreplay. Poor dude, he was the male version of me, both of us sticking our damn hands into the fire. Grace was not in Stratford at the moment, she’d had family drama. I’d guess Tyson was about a week from chasing her down. Patience was not his strongest attribute.

 I settled in on his right side, Jacob giving us a wave as he hit the stairs, probably to shower and change before we left for dinner. Not that he ever looked like he needed to clean up. The fey was physical perfection; his white-blond hair never had a single strand out of place. It was unnatural and unnerving. No human would ever look like that unless they were a mannequin.

 I grinned at Tyson. “So how was king school today?” He turned warm, dark honey eyes on me. It was a color I’d never seen until arriving in Stratford, both melting and mysterious. Sort of like the mage himself.

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