Lullaby (The Fable Series, Book 2)

Chapter Twenty Nine

"Perfect timing," a voice like warm velvet growls from an open door across the hallway. "Come on in, Cupcake. Join us. I like your outfit, by the way."

I turn around slowly, imagining Alastaire sprawled out on the bedroom floor, lying nude on a polar bear rug with a red rose between his teeth, surrounded by a harem of naked girls he somehow smuggled into the cabin. That's what the sultry 'come hither' tone of his voice brings to mind, anyway.

The reality isn't quite that, but it's pretty close.

Alastaire's sitting on the edge of his bed. He's wearing slouchy grey sweat pants, but he's naked from the waist up, and I catch a glimpse of his chiseled chest and toned arms, a beautiful light tan despite him spending the past month in the eternally gloomy shade of the forest.

He's drying his head with a towel, and I feel a lump rise in my throat as the light from his bedside table lamp sparkles and glints off his blonde hair.

Hair like an angel.

An image forms in my mind, cloudy and half-formed, like the faint whisper of a memory.

A young man on the beach.

Strange white robes.

Hair like a brilliant halo, wet from the sea – salty droplets sparkling on strands of spun gold, heavenly blue eyes as deep as the sky he fell from.

The memory disappears, and I'm standing frozen in the corridor, staring into Alastaire's bedroom. I gulp, realizing that the taste of blood is gone from my mouth, as if it was never there in the first place.

I thought I bit my tongue in my sleep. I could have sworn I could taste blood in my mouth a moment ago, lots of it. What the hell is happening to me?

"Alastaire to Cupcake," Alastaire says, waving his hands in the air. "Come in Cupcake. Hello? Do you read me?"

I shake my head, trying to clear the foggy half-remembered moment on the beach.

"Loud and clear," I say, faking a yawn. "I'm really tired actually. I'll just be on my w-"

"Don't be such a drag," Alastaire says. "The more the merrier. Come on. Join us."

"Us?" I ask, peering into the room.

A sudden stirring at the foot of Alastaire's bed makes his duvet bunch up slightly.

The covers crease and shift as someone moves around, maybe turning over in their sleep.

OMG. There's someone there. Which means...

Alastaire has somehow – despite being stuck in a cabin miles away from civilization, despite the fact that Fable are meant to be totally undercover, despite the fact that the walls in the bedrooms are basically paper thin – he's somehow snuck a girl, or maybe even, several girls, into his bed.

OMG. I've walked into some kind of orgy.

"No thanks, I don't-" I stumble over my words, backing up from the doorway slowly until a familiar voice interrupts me.

"God-damn-good-for-nothing-piece-of-bull-phone!" Ben hisses from somewhere in Alastaire's bedroom, tossing the duvet over as he rolls onto his side at the foot of the bed. His head pops out from under the covers, his shaggy black hair in disarray.

"The frikkin red guy just killed me again!" He mutters, swiping angrily across his screen before slamming his phone down. "Dame this stupid addictive game. Pfffft. Oh, heya Ash."

"Um... heyyyy..." I answer hesitantly. "What's... what are you guys doing?"

"Chillin'", Ben says nonchalantly, like that explains it all. "And beating Al's high score on Rage 2."