“You aren’t drama.” His brows lowered.
“I don’t consider picking up a random girl on the side of the road a normal way of selecting friends,” I smirked.
His laugh was half-hearted, but enough to bring life back to his eyes. “Something told me it was the right thing to do.”
Faeryn
The Western continent was freezing, my memories of shivering in the field of Eitrea mild by comparison. Winter had set in, despite summer being here just yesterday. Graysen’s forewarning did little to reduce my surprise. Clouds coated the entirety of the sky, their gray tinted by a faint dusty mauve haze. The few trees in town were stripped bare. The creatures that had once been so revealing in their outfits were now wrapped in thick furs, flannels, and leathers. Even a fluffy Lychan had a knitted poncho over its shirt. Graysen had pulled two blankets out from under the bench in the carriage and buckled them over the backs of the Silvates before releasing them to roam around in the back yard, not that they seemed bothered by the change in season. I tucked my hands into my armpits and hurried down the stone tiles leading to the familiar red door. Without any snow, the biting temperature was hardly worth tolerating.
It felt odd re-entering the home, my life experiences having doubled since I last walked through the threshold. Now, feeling ready to face what Trebianna had to offer, I puffed out my chest with determination while gazing down the cozy, familiar glow of the hallway. It was time to make a life for myself. I didn’t know what that would look like, but it started now. Earth couldbe a side quest. Mynewprimary objective was creating a sense of purpose and self on this beautiful planet.
Graysen threw his shoulder into the door against the biting wind and appeared by my side. He slung our travel bag onto the ground and kicked off his black Oxfords. The house was quiet.
We found Mykie asleep on the couch. Her magenta cheek was squishing her round lips into a pout. One arm hung over the edge while the other rested loosely over the curve of her sunken hips. A half-full glass of green liquid sat on the floor by her head alongside the near-empty bottle of its origin. Graysen picked up both, carried them to the kitchen, and dumped them down the sink. My heart fluttered softly as he fussed over his best friend, preparing her a fire and covering her with a blanket.
“Would you like first dibs at bathing?” he whispered so low I could barely make out the words.
“That would be great.”
I considered being generous and insisting he go first, but felt insecure about the grime coating me from our trip. I hadn’t been able to run my fingers through my hair since the first dragon ride. My curls had completely fallen out, leaving a tangled nest that reminded me of when I first saw my reflection after being in the damp, claustrophobic forest. I also hadn’t gotten a chance to wash my face post-cry, nor between my thighs post-orgasm. A small part of me worried that Graysen’s immediate suggestion had been his way of expressing distaste.
I opted to spare myself the view in the mirror until after I could do some damage control. Discarding my clothing into a pile by the tub, I lowered myself into the warm water. I felt it seep into the scrapes from sliding down the tree trunk, though I imagined I’d heal quickly again. Although my rapid recovery added to my genuine concerns about potentially being in a coma,I was grateful it gave me the opportunity to explore Trebianna so soon after my rescue. Otherwise my injuries would've kept me couch-bound for far too long.
I used oil and a comb to work through my mess of hair, imagining how much easier it would be to de-tangle with claws. I wondered if Graysen “undressed” his form to its natural state when bathing. Did it feel like taking off a bra after a long day? He may have convinced me that the disguise was not entirely uncomfortable, but anything that required constant effort must feel relieving to drop in privacy. If nothing else, the claws running over his scalp must feelincrediblewhen bathing. I blinked a few times to ward off the oncoming fantasy, unsure if they’d be able to detect my shift in scent from downstairs.
A few minutes later, water dripped from me and on the tiled floor. I dug through cabinets, searching. Having no luck, I cracked the door open to squeeze my face past it. “Graysen! Where do you keep the towels?!” There was no reply.
I puffed out my cheeks and looked side to side. The door at the very end of the hallway was open, and the corner of a bed was visible. Across from the bathroom were two other doors, both likely candidates for a linen closet. Having at least thought about my outfit before my bath, I got dressed despite the uncomfortable way the cotton clung to my damp skin.
Now, which door to open? I figured I had about fifty-fifty odds, but the left option was slightly closer to the bathroom entrance. I wrapped my hand around its golden engraved knob and began to twist and pull. I had a vague awareness of someone coming up the stairs, but ignored it since I was trying to embrace some semblance of self-sufficiency.
The door had hardly cracked open when a hand wrapped around mine and slammed it closed. Claws pricked into my still outstretched hand. Graysen loomed over me. The bronze eyesthat had lulled me into ecstasy yesterday pierced into me with something darker, more ominous. My stomach twisted, anxiety jumped into my throat. How were they so beautiful and so dangerous at once?Right, because that was him.
“Towels are through the other door,” his monstrous voice said, stretching his right arm to open the door closer to the stairs and grab me what I needed. His left claw never lifted its pressure from my wrist.
“Oh… sorry. What’s in this room?” I must have been a dumbass to ignore the blatant aggression I had roused with that very subject matter. But how could I not ask? It would be much easier to move on if he could offer a simple explanation to clear the tension from the air. Hell, had he stayed calm, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about the situation. But hehadn’t.
“Just storage.”His voice remained flat. I haddefinitelystumbled upon something I wasn’t supposed to. “Let’s go downstairs. Mykie is up.”
My feet stayed planted. I couldn’t stand another moment of challenging his gaze, but was reluctant to abandon the first tangible secret of his within my grasp. Ultimately resigning to his unmoving, rigid posture, I accepted the offered towel and began to walk toward the stairs while running it through my hair. I heard the click of a lock behind me, and swallowed a lump in my throat. Clearly, the honeymoon trip was over. Our relationship was back to being complicated, but at least therewasa relationship now.
General sense of faith in him aside, I didn’t like the way Graysen had glared at me. I didn’t like how the air had become thick enough to choke on. I had triggered him enough to not only turn his eyes, but his hands. Those claws had felt like blades ready to slice through me like tissue paper, eerily reminiscent of when I had been yanked from the door on my first day. Itrusted it wasn’t on purpose, but had to swallow the feeling that—for a moment—his body had altered to hurt me. He had turnedferal, his predatory anatomy ready to address me as prey when antagonized.
Mykie sat up on the couch, rubbing her dark eyes, blinking the sleep out of them periodically. “Welcome back, Faeryn,” she grumbled with a big stretch.
“I was about to go to the store to grab groceries for dinner,” Graysen commented, his de-weaponed mask had returned, but his voice remained unnaturally deep and flat. “Can you keep her company?” He was clearly talking to Mykie, not me.
“I can go to the store with you,” I volunteered, hoping to use the opportunity to course-correct the tone. It was way too soon to be brooding and mysterious after all the progress we had made. I was hopeful. A shared task might do some good in setting us back on the same page.
“No,” he rejected bluntly. I felt the spark of hope fizzle out in my chest. “It won’t take long. You should settle here where it’s warm.” His brows remained furrowed, eyes not looking up from the floor.
“You can help me with dishes,” Mykie proposed, scanning between our expressions carefully.
Way to put me in a situation where I’m rude if I say no. I fought the urge to puff out my cheeks and stamp my foot on the floor. He was the one making it weird. Why did I have to cater to his moods?Because it’s his house. And his friend. And he has sharp claws and dangerous eyes and a mysterious past of unknown concern level.
“Sure,” I muttered.
There were barely any dishes in the sink, adding to my irritation. If Mykie was going to cover for her friend, she could at least pick a decent excuse. Not that there were many other things she could rope me into. After all, I had thevaguememory of our last outing together causing a bit of a stir.
