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Curiosity getting the better of me, or maybe just the need to rub some salt on my wounds, I wander over to inspect one of the lights. Unfortunately, being height deficient like I am, I am too short to see inside, but I quickly find a chair and drag it over as quietly as I can.
Knowing my luck lately, I’d probably be interrupting a vampire's breakfast and they’d come out to make me their dessert. A shiver skids over my skin. I shake off the thought and climb onto the chair. Unfortunately, after all that effort, it ends up not being interesting at all. Inside the light is a hunk of Cyaertite, a glowing crystal that grows in the northern caves of Ulydessia and is known for producing its own light.
I’d studied it briefly a few years back to see if it could be used as a new electrical energy source, but it was ineffective in the end. The stone had been too unstable to generate consistent or amplified power.
I humph as I jump down from the chair and drag it back to its place in the hall. Disappointment follows me as I make my way down the gorgeous tree staircase leading down to the main hall.
I can’t put my finger on why I’m disappointed, whether it’s because I didn’t know the answer for once, or due to the reminder of what I once was. Either way, it rankles and leaves a bitter feeling in my stomach as I make my way down the steps.
The tavern is silent; there is nothing but the crackle of the fire in the large fireplace. Like a magnet, my eyes find Roan in the middle of a cluster of long tables, wiping them down and tucking in the stools. Just for a moment, I take in his broad shoulders and how his muscles play under his shirt when he moves. But then, almost instinctively, he freezes, snapping to attention. His cloth is dropped, forgotten, his dark eyes snapping to mine.
With all the power of his attention on me I forget to breathe for a moment, but then he breaks into a wide, beard-twitching grin, his eyes crinkling at the sides like a man who has known a lot of laughter, and throws his arms wide.
“Theo!”Ugh, that deep voice of his still does something to me, sending a thrill up my spine. I hate that he can do that to me. He takes a step towards me, and I try and fail not to notice the way that his tan pants strain across his thighs with his step, but then he hesitates. Like he’s scared of spooking me.
I might hate how much I’m attracted to the man. But I hate this more, this worry that I am so fragile and need to be protected. That hard little ball of anger had softened as I’d perved on Roan, but now it flares again, into something else. Something petulant and irritable.
To his credit, Roan notices the flicker of emotion across my face and instantly softens his stance, crosses his arms across his big chest, and tilts his head as he watches me. His long wavy hair has fallen out of its usual bun at the back of his head into his face. Despite my irritation, my hands itch to tuck it behind his ear. I shove my traitorous hands in my pockets to stop myself from doing anything stupid.
“You made it down.” He’s right in front of me now, and I lean my hip against a table, aiming for casual nonchalance.
“Yeah, I, uh, thought it was about time, you know?” One of Roan's eyebrows lifts like he was desperate to call me on my bullshit but knows better. Smart man, I wonder if he can taste blood from all the tongue biting he’s doing.
I clear my throat and try again, but at the moment I can’t actually face looking at him and all his intense sincerity in the eye, so instead I focus on the stool tucked under the table.
“Actually, I wanted to thank you. The books—they are good. I appreciate it. Really.” I flash the novel in my hand and take a chance to look up. And thank the Gods I did, as I am rewarded with the hint of a blush under his thick beard, his lip between his teeth, with his small smile.
“No problem.” He nods back over at the gleaming wooden bar behind him. “I have a couple of hours left till we close for the night. I need to catch up on my bookwork. Why don’t you sit at the bar and keep me company?” There is a hopefulness in his voice that I try not to put too much stock in.
Roan’s a friend—well my brother's mate's friend. Of course he doesn’t want me wasting away in one of his tavern rooms. Surely that's not good for business. Reason doesn’t stop the little spark of foolishness that flames to light in my chest anyway.
“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”
Roan
I slide the bowlof pretzels down the bar to the waiting patron and try not to stare at the empty stool at the end of the bar. Theo’s stool. Tucked away, close enough to the door to the kitchens that most people wouldn’t notice him. Or so he thinks.
He has come down a few hours before closing every night to read and “keep me company” for the past week and a half while I catch up on fluffy admin tasks. Mostly it’s just a cover to keep him occupied and out of his room, but my already tidy books have never been this organised. Mauvy is chuffed over the whole situation, especially since I started doing the ordering for the kitchens and polishing the silver after I ran out of things to do.
But just because hethinksthe handful of patrons in the bar most nights don’t notice him, doesn’t mean he's correct. It just means that any time they’ve dared to go near him they’ve been met with a harsh warning from myself, Mauvy, or Seldon, who have both taken to protecting our silent sentinel like he is a wild animal they are attempting to train into being a friend.
They aren’t entirely wrong.
Theo is skittish. He skips the busier nights, choosing to stay in his room, and I’ve found I really missed his silent company. Edith, Seff, Tor, and Caelan have all been by regularly and are over the moon to finally see him out of his nest. They say he still isn’t talking much, but hey, it’s a start, right?
Tonight is one of those busier nights, which is expected for a weekend. So to say I am shocked to see his shy form, hidden in the overflowing layers of his too big, borrowed clothes, making its way down the stairs is an understatement. Especially since his brother and Caelan were by earlier today while I was out.
I’m more than a little stunned to watch his shock of vibrant, copper curls make their way closer to me. To the bar, I mean. Because that’s where he’s headed, definitely not tome, specifically. That would be ridiculous; I’m nearly ten years older than him, and he’s not in the place for that sort of thing, is he?
Shit. Getting wildly ahead of myself here. He does that to me.
I can’t help my body's hyper awareness ofhim, that primitive little pull in my chest telling me to snatch him up and throw him over my shoulder to hide him in my small cabin out in the back where I could -yeah, doing it again.
Probably best not to think about all that right now. Not only would that plan go down like a sack of lead with him, but the last thing I need right now is for my cock to get any harder in my pants. One of the feral animals around here is bound to notice and make a big deal out of it. He makes his way carefully across the bar, completely oblivious to the stares of the beings crowding the bar.
I keep my eyes trained on Theo as he approaches, devouring every detail of his pale face, with its sharp, high cheekbones and the dusting of vibrant freckles across the bridge of his nose, his strawberry lips curled into a shy smile. He shoulders his way past a loud and blustery crowd of fauns to jump up onto his usual stool at the end of the bar.
For someone that spends all day in bed, he looks exhausted. His unnaturally pale skin starkly contrasts the dark shadows under his eyes.
