Free Forget Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines Book 11) by Lisa Olsen Page B

If we could all just take a step back and realize that none of us are enemies.”
    “For all we know,” Bishop shrugged.  “We could be mortal enemies.”
    “Okay, but right now we’re not,” I insisted.  “Even if we are working opposite sides, for the moment we’re united in a common goal – to get out of here in one piece.  Do you all agree with that?”  I got an assortment of nods from supportive to begrudging.  “Good.  Now why don’t you put some clothes on, and we can sit down and discuss this like adults.”
    “I can’t use my hand, it might be broken,” the guy admitted, wincing as he slowly flexed it.
    I wasn’t about to offer a helping hand.  “Try.”
    He slipped the button up shirt on easily enough, and got the faded jeans on, but had trouble fastening them closed.  “Could you not assist me, lovely one?”  Apparently he’d gotten over his fear of me. 
    I started toward him to help until I realized he’d decided to go commando, the thick thatch of golden hair spilling from his open jeans.  “I, um...”
    “I’ll do it,” Rob grumbled, stepping forward to assist.
    “I’d rather have her assistance,” he grumbled, but Rob wasn’t having any of it.
    “I’ll bet you do, but it ain’t happenin’, mate.  Only pants she’s going near are mine.”
    “You are her man?”  He measured up Rob with his eyes.  “I thought her unattached from her fiery manner.” 
    “Well she ain’t.  Like I said, she’s mine.”
    I wasn’t sure I liked being claimed like a possession, but I held my tongue on that score.  “Fellas?  More buttoning, less testosterone.”  When it was done, I felt more comfortable approaching him.  “I honestly am sorry about shoving you like that.”
    “It is no matter, petal.”
    “It’s Anja.”
    “But your loveliness is as delicate as a flower.”
    “Which part of mine was you having trouble with?” Rob scowled. 
    Criminitely, what was it about this fella that made the other guys lose their cool around him?  “What should we call you?” I asked before I ended up having to shove someone again.
    “I hardly know,” he admitted, his lips pursing as he thought it over.  “You choose a name for me, petal.  It’s bound to be satisfactory.”
    “Okay, we’ll call you Hank.”
    “Hank?”  He wrinkled his nose with distaste.
    “Steve?”
    “Steve...”
    Ugh , why didn’t he pick his own name then?  “Joseph?” I suggested, ready to start calling him Thor if he didn’t accept one soon.
    “Joseph is acceptable for the moment,” he said with a lofty nod.  He sure acted high and mighty for the weakest guy in the room.
    “Alrighty then.  Is your hand okay, Joe?  We might be able to find some ice in the freezer if it hasn’t all melted.” 
    “Can we not simply get some snow from outside?”  We all looked to the windows high above to see fat snowflakes drifting past the panes. 
    “Nope, we’re trapped in here by magic,” Bishop reminded him.  “I don’t suppose you’re a wizard or anything?” 
    “Witch.  A male witch is still called a witch,” Carys interrupted. 
    “I’m no witch.” 
    “How do you know?  You don’t even know your name,” Aubrey pointed out, and Joe sat down, disturbed by that point. 
    “Can you remember anything at all?” 
    “I remember...”  His gaze grew distant as he searched his memory.  “I remember holding you as you cried.”
    “Me?” I blinked in surprise, but it was Carys he turned to. 
    “It was you, älskling .  I held you as you wept over this one,” he jerked a thumb in Bishop’s direction.
    “You did?” she gasped, eyes blinking fast. 
    Bishop bristled at that.  “Hold on now, what makes you think she was crying because of me?”
    Joe merely shrugged.  “I simply know it.”
    “I don’t suppose it’s interesting to anyone at all, but I have a similar memory,” Aubrey chimed in.  “Only I held far more than her arms to soothe the sting of your