4. Ryan
4
Ryan
“Oh,” I say, looking at the stunning female standing in the middle of my bathroom. I realize immediately that I probably sound disappointed to see her. It’s not that I am disappointed. I honestly didn’t expect to share a suite with a female and was taken by surprise.
Before I can articulate that to her, she speaks.
“Oh?” She pops her hip out and rests her fist on it. “Expecting someone better, big guy?”
My face heats, and I rub the back of my neck. Her voice has an interesting lilt, an accent I can’t place, and a throating quality that reminds me of a lounge singer.
I couldn’t begin to say what type of spirit I expected to share a suite with, but it certainly was not this intimidating female.
Her presence is so strong it’s nearly oppressive, but that is most likely because she’s a Valkyrie. As I imagine is the case with most, I have never met a Valkyrie before. They’re incredible rare. I’ve read all about them, though. Winged female warriors that are known for their strength, speed, and prowess in battle.
They’d be incredible in the military if that were allowed.
I also read that they can select the most worthy spirits for the elite army of their God, Odin. There is no proof that the Godly realms exist, but if they don’t, how can we, the creatures of the Gods be here?
Looking at the female in front of me, I find it hard to deny divine influence in creation.
But my books did not do this Valkyrie before me justice. Not that I would expect them to. How could a book ever capture the strength, the beauty, the grace of the spirit? Of course, there have been drawings and diagrams, but there is no way they could showcase the metallic threads running through her massive wings, the mischievous glint in her eyes.
Her brown hair is intricately braided, and she wears the tiniest skirt I’ve ever seen. Her muscular thighs look like they could crush me.
Not that I’m into that.
“No, I just wasn’t expecting anyone, is all,” I answer quietly. My mother always told me I was too soft-spoken for my own good, but I think it’ll be encouraged here.
Maybe here I’ll be able to find my place.
She smiles, a bright, wide smile that lays crooked on her face. “Well, you’ve got me! I’m Stella.” She sticks out her hand to shake mine and my brain stutters.
Why would she want to touch me? I’m a monster, and she is a Goddess.
Well, not an actual Goddess, of course.
I take her hand gingerly, and she grips mine tightly, strong despite how much smaller it is than mine. A shiver runs up my spine, and I school my face not to show what effect her touch has on me.
“Not to be presumptuous, but you’re a Valkyrie, right?”
As much as I am confident she is, I want to be sure. I don’t like making assumptions that could later prove incorrect and embarrass me.
My existence is embarassing enough.
“Yep, what gave it away?” She flexes her gorgeous white wings with a wink, and I chuckle. “And sorry, big guy, I don’t even have to ask with you.”
For some reason, it doesn’t bother me that she called me big guy. It’s been hurled at me as an insult so many times I cannot count them, but when it comes out of her crooked mouth it sounds affectionate and sweet.
Also, it’s not like she’s wrong.
Objectively, I am huge. I’m lucky I was assigned a suite on the top floor, since the roof is taller here, or I’d be pretty uncomfortable standing. The last time I was measured, I was over seven feet tall. But that sort of height is common in my spirit. In face, I may even be on the low end of average.
I take off my monocle and polish it on my black polo. “Yeah, I guess the one eye gives me away.” I try to hide the embarrassment in my voice.
Cyclops.
There can’t be another spirit that blends in less. Large, broad, and with one massive eye in the middle of my face, it’s not surprising I have had difficulty being part of Authentic society.
“Hey, it’s a pretty eye. Some people have two, and they’re the ugliest color. You’ve got this cool green and gold thing going on. I dig it.”
My heart skips a beat.
She likes my eye?
Has anyone ever thought anything positive about the massive orb in the center of my face, the one thing that makes it so I could never look Authentic even if I tried?
She smiles prettily as she leans on the doorway that leads into her room. “You haven’t given me your name yet, big guy.”
“Ryan Duran.” I swallow audibly. She makes me nervous. It’s not like our ancestors were adversaries or anything. We’re said to be descendants from different realms, after all. But I know she could kick my ass if she wanted to, despite how much smaller she is than me.
It’s unnerving in the best way.
“Perfect, Ryan. Looks like we’re goin to get to know each other real well over the next two years, huh?”
“I guess so,” I say, trying to look at anything but the way her corset pushes her breasts up.
When you have one giant eye, it’s pretty obvious where it’s looking.
“I’ll do my best to keep my side of the sink clean. It looks like the shower and toilet are private, which is great. I’m good to leave your door unlocked when I’m in there so you’re not holding your piss while I’m spending an hour deep conditioning my hair.”
I hear her words, but they’re barely registering as my brain seems to spending all of it’s processing power staring at her. Her wings flex behind her when she talks, and I want to touch them so badly I feel like I’m going to burst, but I bet asking to do that would be rude.
She looks at me expectantly, so I clear my throat before I reply. “Yeah. Sounds good. If you ever change your mind, that’s fine too.”
“Cool. I’m used to living on my own, so this is all new to me,” she says, and there is a touch of sadness in her voice that I want to explore. “And I don’t know anyone here. I don’t know if you do, but you’re gonna be my friend until you say otherwise.”
She speaks so quickly. My kind aren’t stupid, but we aren’t known for our award-winning research either. And though I have always been more bookish and studious than my peers, it still takes me a moment to process her words. She’s kind and patient, giving me the time I need. It’s almost like she knows I need a chance for all of it to sink in.
“I’d love to be your friend!” I say almost too enthusiastically. I cuff the back of my neck, feeling where it heats with a blush from my eagerness. “I mean, I don’t know anyone here either.”
“Good, it’s settled.” She claps loudly, and I startle. She doesn’t notice. “Wanna get lunch?”
She bounces out her door to her room, and I follow her like she has me on a leash. I don’t think she knows I’m behind her, because she bends over to lace up a pair of insane sandals and gives me a peek at the curve of her ass that has me weak in my knees with a need I’ve never experienced before.
Keeping my eye to myself may prove more difficult than I expected.
She straightens up and spins around, not at all shocked to find me there. “Ready?”
I lumber slowly behind her as she bounces down the stairs, and I can’t help but wonder why she’s here. Did she get arrested? Did she choose to attend? She seems so excited to be here in a place that is a punishment for so many others.
Maybe she’s like me and longs to fit into a society that would prefer to hide her existence.
A shame, a blot on the perfect face of Vorista.
Supernatural.
A dirty word that slips out as an insult and a curse when walking down the street.
A choice made for us when we were formed in the womb that weighs us down like an albatross.
But not for much longer.
I pull myself out of my spiral of self-loathing and peer at the Valkyrie, who is leading me down the stairs, still trying to figure out why she’s here. Her spirit can tuck their wings away, can’t they? Other than those, she seems pretty Authentic and could probably blend in. It’s not as if battle strategy is a topic at Authentic dinner parties.
Well, it may be. I’ve never been to one.
“Why are you here?” I ask as we exit the tower. Internally, I chastise myself for how harsh the words sound. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. You don’t have to answer.”
“Not rude, you’re good! I’ve hidden that I am a Valkyrie for the past ten years, and I slept with a guy I worked with, and he found out. He reported me to our company, and they had me arrested for lying about my spirit status. This seemed like a better option than jail.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but all I see is red.
“You trusted him with your body, and he betrayed you?” I growl, clenching my fists. I may be the quiet Cyclops whose eye works so poorly I have to wear a monocle, but I can still fuck up some Authentic asshole if I need to.
I think.
I’ve never been one for violence, much to the chagrin of my parents.
Pacifism isn’t exactly a trait cultivated in Cyclops.
She places a hand on my forearm, the contact soothing me so quickly that my hands relax and hang loosely beside me. She smiles, brown eyes sparkling in the sun.
“Thanks for being on my side, big guy.”
Stella doesn’t try to excuse my anger or shame me for it. Something about that simple act warms my soul.
Her hand stays on my arm as walk past the main academic building, and into the dining hall. My chest swells with pride that this female wants to associate with me and isn’t afraid for others to see her on my arm.
I’m not surprised to find the cafeteria relatively full of supernatural of all types. Stella is the only one with wings, though, and she is not pulling them in.
“Why do you keep your wings out?” I ask before remembering my manners. My mother did not teach me how to speak to females, so this is relatively new to me.
“We may be brutes, child, but we hold our tongues. Fight with your fists, not your words.”
“I’m sorry. I was rude again. Forget I asked.”
She tosses her head back as she laughs, and the sound is like cool rain down my back, making me shiver. “You’re not rude. It’s okay to ask questions. Curiosity and the constant pursuit of knowledge are good traits to have. My wings are a little pissed at me right now since I kept them hidden for so long, and they don’t want to go in the back flaps. Watch.”
She pulls them tightly against her back, but they pop back out like they have a mind of their own. It’d be funny if she didn’t almost smack someone in the face with them.
“Holy shit!” the guy shouts, jumping out of the way. “Those are some gorgeous wings there, angel!”
“She’s not an angel,” I say, wanting to jump to her defense.
“Ooo, not an angel?” He’s tall, but not as tall as me, obviously, and lean. His cheekbones are sharp, almost making his face look a little sunken. His bright blue eyes have purple half moons under them, and has has a mop of blonde hair. Despite the fatigue that lines his face, it’s stretched in a massive smile.
He doesn’t look mad at all. In fact, he seems pretty excited to have been almost smacked in the face.
“Nope, Valkyrie,” Stella says, sticking out her hand. “Stella.”
“Oh shit!” He takes her hand in both of his, pumping it rapidly. “An actual Valkyrie? For real? How many of you are left?”
“No idea. It can’t be a lot, though, if this is the kind of reception I should expect to get.”
“It can’t be many. I don’t think I’ve worked with one at all,” he says, chewing his lip in thought. “Lots of wings but no winged warriors, nope.”
“Worked with?” I ask. I don’t want to be left out of the conversation, and I feel like I’m strong-arming my way in, but I already feel protective of Stella and I don’t know this male. He smiles at me, and it’s friendly and open, not even a little reserved or fearful.
He bends at the waist and extends his arm in a dramatic bow. “Clay Wallace, Reaper, at your service.”
This male is a Reaper?
Stories of Reapers are told to children as we lie in bed, reminding us to behave. Horrifying creatures that slip into your room while you sleep and pull your soul from your body, sending you off into the after faster than you can blink.
But Clay does not look like a horrifying monster.
He looks like a surfer, and his skin is sun-kissed. His baggy shorts and tank top round out the look.
“Stella Mikers.” Clay straightens his spine and extends his hand to her. She clutches it and pumps twice. When she releases him from the handshake, he shakes his hand out from the strength of her grip with a wince. She doesn’t notice. “So you mean you’ve never reaped one of my kind?”
“Never! Pretty cool to meet you, and I’m glad it’s in life too,” he says with a cheeky wink. Stella beams broadly as jealousy pools in the pit of my stomach.
My suddenly spiraling thoughts drown out the sounds of the dining hall.
Is she going to decide she doesn’t want to spend time with me anymore if she’s around Clay? Why wouldn’t she?
It would be the fastest I’ve ever lost a friend, that’s for sure, but not the first time.
Stella puts a hand on my forearm. “This is Ryan,” she says with a warmth that shocks me out of the pit of self-loathing I was attempting to bury myself in. “He and I are suite mates.”
“Well, damn, lucky Cyclops!” he almost shouts, clapping me on the shoulder. Some of my nerves fly out of me with the force of his hand.
“We were just grabbing some lunch. Do you want to join us?”
Despite the warmth and friendliness of this male, I want to scream at Stella not to invite him, but I can’t. That would not be a good look for me. Instead, I affirm her invitation, and we all get in line to grab our food.