The bastard knew he was keeping Hunt here. Away from Bryce and that sweet, sumptuous mouth. Which was precisely why Hunt had opted to grin and bear it: he wouldn’t give the shithead the satisfaction of knowing how much he was pissing him off. Or turning his balls blue.
But enough was enough. Hunt asked, “You need me to tuck you into bed, too?”
Baxian snorted, going up to the fridge and yanking it open. The light bounced off his wings, silvering their arches. “You guys have crap beer.”
“Government salary,” Hunt said, leaning against the doorway. “Menus for takeout are in the top drawer to your right; or you can call down to the canteen and see if they’re still serving. Good? Great. Bye.”
“What’s that?” Baxian asked, and there was enough curiosity in his tone that Hunt didn’t bite his head off. He followed the direction of the Helhound’s gaze.
“Um. That’s a TV. We watch stuff on it.”
Baxian threw him a withering glare. “I know what a TV is, Athalar. I meant those wires and boxes beneath.”
Hunt arched a brow. “That’s an OptiCube.” Baxian stared at him blankly. Hunt tried again. “Gaming system?” The Helhound shook his head.
For a moment, Hunt was standing in Baxian’s place, assessing the same room, the same strange, new tech, Isaiah and Justinian explaining what a fucking mobile phone was. Hunt said roughly, “You play games on it. Racing games, first-person games … giant time suck, but fun.”
Baxian looked like the word—fun—was foreign to him, too. Solas.
Sandriel hated technology. Had refused to allow even televisions in her palace. Baxian might as well have been transported here from three centuries ago. Hunt himself had encountered tech in other parts of the world, but when most of his duties had kept him focused on Sandriel or her missions, he hadn’t really had time to learn about everyday shit.
From the hallway behind him, low voices murmured. Naomi—and Pollux. Isaiah’s soothing tones wove between them. Thank the gods.
Hunt found Baxian observing him warily. He threw a flat stare back, one he’d perfected as the Umbra Mortis. Baxian just aimed for the hallway. Hunt gave him a wide berth.
The Hammer filled the doorway of Vik’s room, talking to Isaiah and Naomi in the hall. It was Pollux’s room now. Hunt’s magic rumbled, lightning on the horizon. Pollux sneered at Hunt as he stalked past. Bags and boxes were piled high behind him, a miniature city dedicated to the Hammer’s vanity.
Hunt, keenly aware of all the cameras, of Bryce’s plea to behave, continued on, nodding at Naomi and Isaiah as he passed.
“Well, here you go,” Hunt said to Baxian, pausing before Justinian’s old room. Baxian opened the door. The room was as bare and empty as Hunt’s had been.
A duffel lay beside the narrow bed. All of Baxian’s belongings fit in one fucking bag.
It didn’t make a difference. The Helhound was an asshole who had done shit that even Hunt couldn’t stomach. For him to be in Justinian’s room, filling his place—
The crucifix in the lobby flashed in Hunt’s mind, Justinian’s agonized face as he hung on it. Hunt tried to banish the thought, but failed. He’d fucked up. Twice now, he’d fucked up. First with the Fallen rebellion, then this spring with the Viper Queen, and now … Was he really going to allow himself and Bryce to be dragged into something similar? How many people would be destroyed by the end?
Baxian said, stepping into his room, “Thanks for the tour, Athalar.”
Hunt again glimpsed that sad, empty little room behind the Helhound. Perhaps something like pity stirred him, because he said, “I’ll give you a lesson on video games tomorrow. I gotta get home.”
He could have sworn a shadow dimmed in Baxian’s eyes that appeared a Hel of a lot like longing. “Thanks.”
Hunt grunted. “We’ll link up after the morning checkin. You can shadow me for the day.”
“Real generous of you,” Baxian said, and shut the door without further reply.
Fortunately, Pollux shut his own door right then—slammed it in Naomi’s face. Leaving Hunt with his two friends.
They headed for the common room without needing to say a word, waiting until they’d closed the door and ensured no one was in the bathroom before sinking onto the couch. Hunt really wanted to go home, but … “So this fucking sucks,” he said quietly.
“Pollux should be drawn and quartered,” Naomi spat.
“I’m amazed you’re both still alive,” Isaiah said to her, propping his feet on the coffee table and loosening the gray tie around his neck. Judging by the suit, he must have recently gotten in from escorting Celestina somewhere. “But as your commander, I’m grateful you didn’t brawl.” He gave Hunt a pointed look.