Housewarming at the Orchard Read online

  It was one a.m. before the last of the Arrows who were leaving, departed. Three had come in at midnight, after completing missions. Those three had decided to accept Ivy and Vasic's offer of a late meal and a bed, would be leaving after breakfast.

  They helped Ivy and Vasic clean up--not that there was much to do. Arrows were compulsively neat and sometime during the party, any used dishes had been put into the washer, the cycle run. There was no debris. All the five of them really had to do was tidy up any chairs or sofas that were out of position.

  Afterward, Ivy told the others to take a seat at the dining table while she mixed up hot nutrient drinks. Instead, they chose the relaxed seating arrangement next to the kitchen area. She kept an ear open to their conversation while she made the drinks, heard Vasic's deep tones asking about the completed missions, listened to the responses.

  By the time she sat down next to Vasic, curling up her legs on the sofa and fitting herself against his side, the discussion had moved on to the training of child Arrows when it came to their dangerous abilities. Vasic, Ivy knew, would make sure to give Aden a breakdown of all the different suggestions. The Arrow leader was currently weighing up options for the long-term. Short-term plans were already in place, with pain and torture no longer on the discipline and training menu.

  No more Arrow children would grow up as Vasic had, as Aden had, as these three sitting here had. They'd be given choices, would grow up in a world where they were connected to empaths through the Honeycomb, a world were love and friendship weren't outlawed. A world where gatherings such as this one would be an ordinary part of their life.

  Content and hopeful, Ivy sat in happy silence against Vasic's muscled warmth, a sleepy Rabbit having jumped up to doze on her other side. This new part of the house no longer felt too new, too full of space. It carried the echo of many voices now, the imprint of many lives. It had become a home.

  (c) Copyright 2015 by Nalini Singh