Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Rynn
“We could have made it farther.” I looked around the tavern of the Hidden Glen outpost, where we’d be staying for the evening.
Bastian had surprised me by guiding us here instead of continuing to an outpost closer to the border.
We still had another day of travel after this, but we could have at least gotten closer to the Narchis stronghold.
“They have better food here,” Bastian said simply before striding towards the bar, greeting people along the way.
It was early enough that the tavern was barely a quarter full.
Most Velesians were still at the market or out in the wilds to stretch their legs before darkness fell.
I’d never been to this particular outpost, but I knew at least the basic rundown of every Velesian outpost and most of the Moroi ones.
Hidden Glen was just far enough off the main road that it wasn’t a normal place to stay for those traveling.
It got its name for the glen located a short hike away that was supposed to be pretty, although no further details had been provided around that.
I knew it had a permanent population of two hundred Velesians with roughly six packs.
Like Ravensfell, the residents here were mostly farmers. Overall, they were a self-sufficient outpost with little to no drama, so I didn’t know as much about them as some of the more tumultuous outposts.
I chewed on my bottom lip and shuffled from foot to foot where I’d stopped just inside the door.
Bastian had taken a seat at a table, where several locals were already enjoying an early dinner.
The food did smell amazing, and as a Velesian, I was basically always hungry.
Our bodies burned through calories, especially after shifting.
Sitting at that table meant engaging in small talk though, which was something I was both terrible at and hated with a passion. I glanced at the tall, red-haired man behind the bar. Maybe I could ask him to bring me some food upstairs . . .
Just as I stepped forward, Bastian dashed that hope. “Rynn!” He waved at me. “Come on. I got you some food.”
Damn it. I couldn’t stop myself from grimacing, but I quickly replaced it with a polite, happy smile as I walked over to join Bastian and the locals.
A pretty blonde woman with greyish-blue eyes grinned at me. “You look about as happy as I did on my wedding day.”
I paused next to Bastian, not really knowing how to respond to that. He snorted and practically yanked me down on to the bench next to him, quickly putting a glass of wine and plate full of roasted meat and potatoes in front of me.
“As I recall,” Bastian drawled, “your wedding day actually worked out quite well for you, Vela.”
Everyone at the table laughed, including Vela.
Her eyes twinkled as she smirked at me. “I was supposed to marry that one there.” She pointed a piece of bread at a handsome man with olive-toned skin and kind black eyes sitting directly across from her on Bastian’s other side.
“But as it turned out . . . his sister was more my type.”
The man chuckled. “I think we’re all happy about how things went.” He winked at the bartender, who immediately blushed.
I looked back and forth between the two of them. “Okay . . . I think I’m going to need the full story.”
Hours later, my throat was sore from laughing, and I was fairly certain if I had one more bite of food, I would burst. Bastian had been right, they really did have good food here.
It was well past suppertime when we made our way upstairs, which surprised me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent hours just relaxing and having a good time with others.
No discussion of politics. No fearful conversations about recent monster attacks.
No sly talks involving trade deals. Just a group of people telling wholesome and occasionally hilarious stories.
Even when I hung out with Samara, we were doing research or using each other to problem-solve the myriad of issues plaguing Lunaria.
A little bit of melancholy hit me. Samara, Cali, and I used to have more time just to enjoy our friendship. Maybe we could figure out a way to get back to that once our realms were no longer on the verge of war.
We were smart, resourceful people. I had faith in us figuring it out.
On that cheerful note, I hopped up the last step and headed for the room the barkeep had told me was ours. Thanks to all the wine I’d enjoyed alongside the good food and company, it took me a few seconds to realize Bastian was following me into the room and not going to find a temporary bed buddy.
My body seemed to catch on to that fact before my mind though, because I halted abruptly, causing Bastian to run into me. I stumbled forward, tripping over my own feet, and careened towards the floor. A strong arm snapped around my waist and tugged me back.
“I think we drank too much,” Bastian rasped, and indeed, we were swaying a little bit. Either that, or the room was moving.
“Shouldn’t have opened that last bottle.
” I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. Nope, that made it worse.
They flew open, and I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, which did actually help.
Then I realized we were still just standing there with Bastian holding me very snuggly against his body.
Clearing my throat, I tapped his arm. “You can let me go now.”
“Oh, I’m actually holding on to you so I don’t fall over.” The arm around me tightened, as if to make his point, but that just made me even more acutely aware of what part of his body my ass was pressed against.
Was it hot in here? It felt hot in here. Maybe I should open a window.
“Would you like me to escort you to one of the other rooms?” I asked, my voice coming out a little husky. That was definitely the wine’s fault. “That dark-haired lycan woman was giving you bedroom eyes, and she mentioned that she’s staying here. Or there was that burly ursan man.”
“Redundant, all ursanthropes are burly.” Bastian chuckled while maneuvering us towards the bed, causing my heart to race. “And currently, there is only one lycan holding my attention.”
For the second time since entering the room, I tripped, but Bastian just laughed before smoothly sweeping me off my feet. I yelped, my arms immediately going around his neck even as the rest of my body froze at being pressed against him.
“Relax, Princess. We’re friends, remember?” He flashed me a grin before settling me on the bed.
“Right,” I rasped. My mind was confused. My body was horny. I was never drinking wine again.
“Unless you’re trying to get a repeat of last night for yourself?” Bastian held up his right hand and wiggled two fingers.
“I hate you.” I let my head drop back on to the pillow. “Also, can we just not mention that again? Like ever?”
“Mmm . . . maybe.” The distinct sound of clothes hitting the floor almost had me raising my head to look, but I managed to refrain. Then I felt Bastian tap the toes of my shoes. “On or off?”
“Off,” I muttered and nestled further into the soft pillow.
“Tell me a story,” he said while doing as I requested and taking off my shoes.
His fingers slipped under the waistband of my pants next, but he waited until I looked at him, one eyebrow arched in question.
I hated sleeping in pants, so I nodded, pulling my shirt down as he slid the loose-fitting pants off.
Again, I didn’t know why I cared. It wasn’t like Bastian hadn’t seen me fully naked at least a dozen times already.
But we were in a room together. Alone. It just felt . . . different.
To his credit, Bastian didn’t leer at all. There was nothing in his expression that said he was the least bit affected by my half-nakedness. I should’ve been happy about that, so why was I annoyed?
I decided to blame that on the wine as well.
“A story?” I sat up enough to pull back the covers and climb under them. “Haven’t you heard enough of those tonight?”
Bastian tossed my pants to the floor near his and stepped away, wearing not a single stitch of clothing.
I kept my gaze locked on his torso, which is why I noticed a thin shiny scar across his ribs.
Velesians weren’t invincible by any means, but as long as our heads stayed attached and any massive bleeding was staunched, we did recover from most wounds. Usually with little to no scarring.
For something to leave a permanent reminder, the damage had to be significant or the body had to have experienced enough trauma that our healing was simply tapped out by the time it got to messier but less deadly wounds.
In which case, they healed, but not as neatly as they would have if our magic reserves had been full.
The Moroi could drink blood or use glyphs to heal themselves faster.
If a Moroi or Furie was around a wounded Velesian, they could apply a healing glyph directly to us.
But that required a Moroi drawing it with their own blood or a Furie using their shadows because that’s what they channeled their magic through.
Some spells we’d learned how to store magic within gems to activate, like silencers and wards, but we hadn’t managed to do that with healing spells yet.
Muscles rippled across Bastian’s ribs as he prowled to his side of the bed, and I counted four more scars. I didn’t know how I’d never noticed them before.
“Most people don’t stare at me with a frown,” Bastian said mildly before getting into bed next to me. Just like last night, he kept some distance between us and thankfully pulled the covers up enough to cover himself.
Not before I got an eyeful though because I wasn’t able to look away quick enough.
“A story for a story?” I chose a spot on the ceiling to stare at, and that seemed to help with both the room spinning and the fact that a very naked Bastian was lying a foot away from me. Thanks to last night, I knew all the rumors and self-boasting weren’t a lie.