Chapter 28
Lyra
CAIRN WAKES ME EARLY THE next morning, pressing kisses to my forehead and along the curve of my ear. I’m so warm curled up beside him, cuddled under his blankets while the cool autumn air gives my nose a slight chill. I don’t want to move. I want to lie here beside him forever.
“Time to get up,” he says softly, his breath brushing the sensitive skin along my neck.
“Why?” I grumble, refusing to open my eyes. If I keep them closed, maybe he’ll lie back down and let me fall asleep again.
“You have to get back to the castle before everyone wakes up,” he says.
And that makes all my cozy, sleepy fantasies come crashing back down.
That’s right. Last night was the Samhain festival. I’m in Cairn’s hut. And I’ll need to get back to my dorm room without anyone realizing I spent the night here.
And the girls . . . Ugh. They’re going to know something’s up now. Hopefully they’re not worried about me; I didn’t tell them I might not come back to the dorm. But I didn’t even know myself.
That’s bound to be a fun conversation.
“Come on,” Cairn says, and he shifts beside me, making the mattress dip. His lips brush my forehead again, soft and warm. “I’ll make you a latte.”
That gets me to open my eyes. I blink up at him, and he’s stunning. His bare chest is lined with firm muscle, and his beard is full and wild. It’s still too early for the sun to gleam through the window, so Cairn is mostly cast in shadow, his horns curling over his head.
“What kind of latte?” I grumble, trying not to let on that that’s exactly what I need to entice me to get out of this perfect bed.
His lips pull up on one side. “Vanilla and cinnamon.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and groan. Then I push myself up and let out a big yawn while stretching my arms over my head.
“Okay,” I say sleepily. “I’m up. Where’s my latte?”
I SIT ON THE COUCH in the darkness of the early morning, watching the red-orange flames dance in the hearth as I wait for Cairn to make that latte he promised me.
He’s in the kitchen, hooves clicking across the worn hardwood floor.
As he works and I watch the fire, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon starts to drift through the cozy little hut, making my mouth water.
“Here you go.” He walks into the sitting room a short while later, and I look up from where I was staring, mesmerized, into the flames. Reaching down, he offers me a teacup with what look like moonflowers painted on the side.
I arch a brow and ask, “Did you make this?”
Cairn sinks into the armchair across from the couch and nods. “I’m no artist, clearly.”
I let out a tired laugh. “I think it’s lovely.”
Then I look into my latte. And freeze.
“Um . . . Cairn?”
He sips his latte and looks into the fire. “Hmm?”
“There’s . . .” I look into my cup again, then back at him. “Something yellow floating in my cup.”
He laughs, and the sound is warm and rumbly. “I make coffee with dandelion root. The petals are good for you.” His brown-eyed gaze slides to mine. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
A pulse of heat goes through me. “Of course I’m not afraid. It’s just a flower.” I look into the cup again, where the pretty yellow petals float atop the creamy frothiness dotted with cinnamon.
Okay, maybe just a little bit afraid.
Cairn stares at me and takes a very deliberate sip of his latte. Then one of his brows lifts in the corner. “Well?”
I swallow down my nervousness, lift the cup to my lips, and take a little sip.
The flavor is slightly earthy—probably from the dandelion root—but the vanilla and cinnamon soften the bitterness.
And the flower petals aren’t so bad after all.
“What’s the verdict?” Cairn asks. He tips his head at me, his horns and nose ring catching the firelight.
I don’t even have to lie. “It’s delicious.”
His smile is small and perhaps even a little bit proud.
We go back to sipping our lattes in the quiet, watching the flames as they dance in the hearth.
And as we sit there together, a weird feeling starts to pull at my chest. It’s a feeling of warmth, safety . . . belonging. It’s a feeling I think I’ve always subconsciously searched for—the knowing that someone wants me, that they’ll not abandon me.
Not like she did.
My gaze slides slowly to Cairn. He’s leaning back in his armchair, staring into the fire, sipping his latte like he’s got all the time in the world. Being here with him, in this little hut with the thatched roof, makes me want to never leave.
But as the sun starts to rise over the horizon, its golden fingers reaching for the windows, I know it’s time to go, even if it’s the last thing I want to do.
I finish my latte—it tasted better with every sip, and I’m already wanting another one by the time I rinse the hand-painted cup in the basin in the kitchen—then look down at myself and realize I’m still just wearing one of Cairn’s oversize sweaters, with no pants under it.
And it’s not like I can wear my Samhain dress back to the castle; that would draw way more attention than a bulky sweater and some bed head.
“Um,” I say as I step back into the sitting room. Cairn looks over at me from his armchair. “What should I wear?”
He tips his head and regards me with a thoughtful expression. After reaching up to scratch his beard, he offers me a little smile. “I think I might have an idea.”
AND THAT’S HOW I END up trudging back to the castle in Cairn’s sweater, a pair of baggy trousers that are actually shorts on him, and my black boots from the festival last night.
Cairn let me borrow a knapsack, and my dress and new fireproof gloves are tucked inside.
I know I must look a mess—his clothing drowns me, and I have to keep pulling the trousers up, because despite the twine Cairn tied through the belt loops, the trousers just want to slide down—but at least I’m not in a skimpy black dress, which would just scream that I never made it back to my room last night.
And knowing my luck, I’d probably run into the headmistress on the way to my room.
I make it into the castle, and the hallways are quiet and still. The scent of breakfast from the dining hall twirls through the air, and my stomach growls. But I have to get back to the room first. I won’t be able to eat until I see Juniper and the girls and explain where I was last night.
On my way up the twirling stairs of the north tower, I pass a few students who seem to be heading out to exercise in the crisp air. They give me curious looks but don’t stop to talk.
Then I reach room NT33, and there’s a dragon standing right outside.
Raelan narrows his dark eyes when he sees me and immediately shifts his broad frame to face me, arms crossed over his chest. His piercing gaze quickly assesses the baggy clothing I’m wearing.
“Lyra Wilder,” he says, voice stern. “Where the hell were you last night?”
Raelan likes to act like he’s not just Alina’s bodyguard, but mine and Poppy’s and Maeve’s as well. It’s equal parts annoying and endearing.
“Sheesh, Dad. Didn’t realize I had a curfew.”
Raelan purses his lips. “You know how worried they all were?”
A pang of guilt goes through me. I was afraid of that—but it certainly wasn’t on my mind last night while Cairn had me spread on his kitchen table . . .
Before I can respond, the door flies open, startling me. Alina stands there, blue hair hanging around her light brown cheeks, eyes blazing like crystallized fire.
“How did you—” I start to ask.
Oh, the mate bond.
She must’ve realized I was here based on something she felt through her connection with Raelan. That still freaks me out.
“You,” Alina says, pointing at me. “Get in here.” That same angry finger points at one of the couches. “And explain yourself.” Her cold blue eyes narrow. “And what you’re wearing.”
Well, I guess I knew this was coming. I did kind of hope they’d all still be asleep and I could slip in and pretend I’d been here all along, that I came back last night after staying out late at the bonfire. But that’s obviously not happening.
With a last glance at Raelan—though he’s obviously not coming to my rescue—I step into the room.
Juniper is perched on the back of the couch, and when she sees me, she squeaks and immediately climbs down and scurries across the floor. I stoop to pick her up and hold her to my cheek.
“Where were you?” she asks, putting her paws on my face and nuzzling her nose and whiskers against me.
And she’s echoed by Maeve and Poppy, who wear varying expressions of anger and relief.
I drop the soft knapsack Cairn lent me onto the floor by the door, then pull off my boots and pad barefoot into the sitting room, feeling all their eyes on me. Hell, even Isis and Yuki seem to be glaring. But Isis always kind of looks like that—snake eyes and all.
“You don’t want to eat breakfast first?” I ask. They’re all a little less grumpy once they’ve got food in their stomachs.
“Lyra,” Alina says slowly, voice simmering as she follows me into the sitting room. “Sit. Now.”
I sit.
Maeve and Poppy sit down on the other couch, but Alina remains standing over me. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you come back? We were worried sick about you.”
“Yeah, Raelan said . . .”
Alina just narrows her eyes, waiting for my explanation. The room is so quiet as they stare at me, all I can hear is the crackling of the flames in the hearth and the soft tick, tick of the clock on the wall.
“Okay,” I say, then let out a big sigh. I move Juniper into my lap, where she cuddles up against the palm of my hand, her fur warm and soft against my skin. “I was with Cairn last night.”
Alina blinks. Poppy’s cheeks go pink. Maeve just tips her head back and lets out a sudden startling laugh.
Juniper nibbles my finger and mumbles, “I should’ve known.”
“Cairn?” Alina echoes. “The groundskeeper?”
I avert my eyes and nod.
“Are those his clothes?” She points at me, though the finger is slightly less angry now.
I nod again.
There’s another moment of tense silence. Alina continues to stare down at me.
Then, with a big whooshing sigh, she collapses onto the couch next to me, looking both tired and relieved. “You,” she says at long last, putting her fingertips to her temple like I’m causing her a headache, “have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Can I at least do it after breakfast?” My stomach grumbles as if to prove my point.
But Alina shakes her head. “Nope. Now.”
“OKAY, WAIT.” MAEVE SITS FORWARD on the couch and levels her storm-purple eyes on me. “He did what?”
I just finished telling them about last night, including my stretching session with Cairn. Now Maeve is acting like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, while Alina just shakes her head some more and Poppy looks like she’s not sure whether to be horrified or not.
“He stretched me,” I say again. “You know . . .” I mime the movements he did with his thumbs, and Maeve laughs again while Poppy covers her eyes and Alina puts a palm to her forehead in obvious exasperation. “He said we have to before he’ll fuck me.”
“Lyra Wilder,” Alina cuts in, “you cannot fuck the groundskeeper.”
My gaze flashes to her. An ember flickers to life in my belly. “Why not?”
“You know why not. It’s forbidden for students and faculty to have romantic relationships. If you get caught, you could get expelled.”
“And he would probably be fired,” Poppy adds.
“And the whole purpose of your community service with him is to not get kicked out, remember?”
I clench my teeth and glance away from Alina, choosing to stare into the fire instead. “Of course I remember.”
“Then why are you taking this chance? It’s dangerous for both of you.”
My fingers stroke Juniper’s soft fur aimlessly. “I know.”
I’m not sure what to say. Alina’s not wrong, but I can’t bring myself to accept what she’s saying either. The thought of not touching Cairn again, not kissing him and being held by him and waking up beside him, makes my stomach feel queasy.
“Do you really like him?” Poppy asks. She’s mostly been quiet—she tends to get shy when we talk men and sex—but right now she’s looking right at me, holding my gaze despite her cheeks still blushing pink.
I bite my lip. Glance into the fire. Bite my lip again.
“Oh my goddess,” Maeve says. She leans into the cushions and tosses her arm over the back of the couch. “You do. You’ve fallen for the minotaur.”
Without saying a word, I nod.
Because I have. At first, I thought he would just be some grumpy asshole I had to put up with every Saturday.
I just wanted to get through my community service and be done with it.
But slowly, I started seeing him, really seeing him, and he started seeing me.
And now I can’t go back, even if I know I should.
“I know it’s risky,” I say, letting my eyes flick to Alina.
Some of the anger has gone from her gaze, but her lips are still pursed into a stern pout of disapproval.
“But I don’t want to stop. And I don’t think he does either.
” My shoulders rise and fall on a sigh. “I really like him. More than anyone else I’ve been with.
And he sees me.” I bite my lip again, rolling my thoughts around before putting them into words.
“This might be weird, but it feels real. He feels real.”
All three girls regard me in the quiet. I wait for Alina to reprimand me some more. But instead, she lets out a long sigh.
“Shit,” she mumbles. “Leave it to you to fall for a faculty member. I expected this from Maeve, not you.”
This gets me to laugh. “Yeah, I know.”
Maeve just arches a brow and smirks at us.
Suddenly, Alina leans forward and snakes her arms around my neck, pulling me into such a sudden hug that Juniper tumbles out of my lap and onto the soft couch with a squeak.
Alina squeezes me tight and mumbles, “I’m sorry I was so mad.
I was just so worried about you. You can’t do that to us again. ”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I put my arms around her waist and return the hug. “I won’t. I promise.”
With a sigh, Alina removes her arms from my neck and reaches down to give Juniper an apologetic scratch behind the ear. “Sorry, Juniper.”
Juniper squeaks to me, and my lips pull up on one side. “She says you owe her a cinnamon bun.”
Alina smiles for the first time since I walked through the door. “That’s fair. I’ll get you one at breakfast.”
“Speaking of breakfast”—Maeve pushes to her feet and stretches her arms overhead—“can we go? I’m starving.”
“I suppose Lyra has been thoroughly reprimanded,” Alina says, lips pulling into a sideways smile.
But then it slips a bit, and her eyes look troubled again.
“But remember what we said. You have to be careful.” She puts a hand on my knee.
Her skin is a bit cold from her frost magic as she gives my knee a squeeze.
“If you get caught, who knows what’ll happen . . .”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise her.
But despite my promise, a little seed of worry and doubt has planted itself in my gut, and I’m concerned it’s there to stay.