Chapter 16
Savla
Hanna offered to carry one of the jars of finished pigment as we packed up, and I almost said no. Instinct, maybe. Or self-preservation.
But when she smiled up at me—soft and hopeful—I handed it to her before my brain caught up. The workshop felt too warm after that.
When she reached the stairs, I hesitated a moment too long before following. Ribbon, traitor that he was, went ahead of me, wedging half his massive body through the door before deciding to simply… jump. The ground shook when he landed.
I winced. “He’s going to get me evicted from the roof one day.”
Hanna laughed—a sound that brushed along my skin in a way that made every part of me a little unsteady—and we started the walk toward her apartment.
Well. We tried to start the walk.
Ribbon plastered himself to my side, then to hers, then back again, like a damp, oversized metronome keeping time with our footsteps. Every bounce made the ground under us tremble slightly. I was certain it was because we were on the topmost floor.
Ribbon was testing the structural integrity of our clan building, and it shouldn’t have made me laugh the way he kept flopping between us both, aiming for maximum affection, but damn it, my lips wanted to curve and I had to keep them in a straight line.
“He’s subtle,” she whispered, grinning.
“Don’t encourage him,” I warned her. But my voice betrayed me—it came out warmer than intended.
The path to the elevator was a straight and short one, but the tension that radiated off of me was immeasurable.
The heat, too. This female was tempting in too many ways.
She walked beside me, close enough that I could feel the brush of her hand and her magick now and then—light, green and whisper-soft.
The same magick that I noticed whenever she touched any of my carvings.
She was a strong earth witch, I was certain of it. And she had an affinity for wood. I just wasn’t comfortable enough to ask her to tell me more about it. Her allure and her magick pushed at my barriers without meaning to.
And I… let it. It was a dangerous mistake. Especially since we were trapped together inside the elevator with Ribbon pressed against my side, eyeing each of us with questionable intent.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked. “You looked tired earlier.”
I glanced at her. “I’m fine,” I rushed to say, not wanting her to think anything was wrong. Especially when I was feeling things I shouldn’t be.
She hummed, unconvinced. “Right. Because males always tell the truth about their emotional state.”
A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. The Gods help me, I couldn’t stop it if I tried. She was too cute for her own good.
And then Hanna noticed. Her breath caught—just a little—and she looked forward again quickly, avoiding my profile.
Did she... does she like my smile?
The bond pulsed between us. Not loud. Just… present. Steady. Like the echo of a heartbeat I tried not to acknowledge.
When we reached her floor, the elevator doors swung open and I walked her to her door. I forced myself to stop a few paces short of her threshold. The air felt charged and too warm. Blatant sensual awareness swirled between us, but we were both trying hard to ignore it.
“This is fine,” I said, taking the jar of pigment from her. “You can take it from here.”
Hanna blinked at me, confused. “You always walk me to my door.”
And that was exactly why I couldn’t tonight. Ribbon, however, apparently disagreed with my boundaries. He hopped past me—shoved past me, really—plopped himself in front of her door, and sprawled out like a giant, slightly wet guardian statue.
“Ribbon,” I warned. “Home.”
He didn’t move, licking his tongue across his eye instead. Hanna bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“I think he wants to sleep here.”
“He can’t,” I said through my teeth. “He has a perfectly good bed in my apartment. With heating.”
Ribbon croaked loudly, sounding offended by the suggestion. As if the luxury accommodations I provided him were subpar compared to the drafty front of Hanna’s doorway. She crouched beside him, placing a hand on his massive head.
“It’s okay, big guy. I’m fine alone,” she told him.
He flattened himself further, becoming somehow wider. He blinked once at me, expression unmistakable—Make me. I dragged a hand over my face.
“Ribbon. Up,” I demanded, my voice as stern as I could make it.
The toad stared at me. I swear to the Gods, the little demon-in-a-toad’s-body smirked.
Hanna looked up at me, her brow furrowed with concern that she didn’t need to have for the little menace. “Let him stay if he wants to,” she pleaded.
I shouldn’t have agreed. It blurred lines and it would complicate things. But her voice was gentle, and the bond tugged at me—soft, coaxing and far too dangerous for my peace of mind.
“Fine,” I said quietly. “But only for a couple hours.”
She smiled. Not big—just small, warm and grateful. It hit harder than it should have. I stepped back, needing space, distance, air—something.
“Goodnight, Hanna,” I whispered.
Her eyes softened as they met mine. “Goodnight, Savla.”
The bond pulsed again… once… twice… like it wanted to follow her inside. I turned before I could do something foolish. Ribbon croaked triumphantly behind me.
I didn’t look back because I knew that if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d leave.
Ribbon did not come home.
Not at midnight or at one in the morning when I climbed onto the roof to check if he was in my workshop, gnawing on the huge frog I’d been carving. Not at three, when I told myself I wasn’t pacing, I was… tidying.
By dawn, I gave up the illusion of sleep entirely. The sky had just started to lighten when I made my way back to Hanna’s apartment. Instead of the locked door I expected with everyone asleep the way it should be, I saw something entirely else instead.
Ribbon was still sprawled across Hanna’s threshold, massive and smug, the ward-lights shimmering on his gray-green fur.
“I should’ve known,” I muttered. He hated being trapped inside an apartment and would have insisted that she leave the door open. But that wasn’t safe. It was fine for me. I could protect myself. But Hanna—
Ribbon lifted his head, blinked once, then slowly—slowly—placed himself even more solidly across her doorway like a living boulder. The message was clear. He wasn’t leaving and he wasn’t letting me through, either.
“Unbelievable,” I whispered. “You’re a toad, not an ancient ward stone.”
He croaked low and judgmental. Before I could argue with him further, my ears twitched at the sound of a door from inside the apartment opening. Probably Hanna’s bedroom. At least she’d had the common sense to keep that closed.
She stepped out, still half-asleep, wearing a familiar soft oversized shirt that fell off one shoulder and loose cotton shorts. Her hair was a tousled halo, and her eyelids were heavy with sleep. She blinked at me like she wasn’t entirely sure I was real.
Oh. No. This was dangerous. The gut-punch of how she looked in my shirt almost took me to the floor.
Gods, she looks like she would after a night in my bed.
“Savla?” she murmured, voice soft and warm from sleep. “What’re you doing here?”
I forced myself to look literally anywhere else but her bare shoulder.
“Ribbon didn’t come home,” I said, then immediately wished I sounded less… affected. “And I thought he would once you were sleeping.”
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “He really didn’t leave?”
“No.” I gestured helplessly at the toad currently impersonating a very stubborn doorstop. “He’s… guarding.”
Ribbon croaked triumphantly, pressing closer to her leg. Hanna’s mouth curved into a sleepy smile as she scratched under his chin. “He’s sweet.”
“He’s a menace,” I corrected, crossing my arms so she couldn’t see how tense my hands were. “And this isn’t normal behavior.”
“It is with you,” she said, still stroking Ribbon’s head.
That sent a flicker of heat down my spine. I swallowed hard, looking away.
Ribbon suddenly shoved his enormous body against her, nearly knocking her off balance. I stepped forward without thinking, catching her by the elbow.
Her skin was warm and so soft. A jolt ran through me—the bond was warm and unmistakable. Her eyes widened just slightly.
She feels it, too. Shit.
I released her like she was on fire.
“Sorry,” I said tightly.
She didn’t step away. In fact, if I wasn’t wrong, she was a little bit closer.
Shit, shit, shit.
“He likes you being here,” she said, glancing at Ribbon, but her voice had a second meaning threaded through it I couldn’t ignore.
“He likes shiny objects and food scraps,” I said, my own voice gruff and hoarse. “And anyone who scratches his head.”
“And you,” she whispered, softly. “I think he has good taste.”
The world went still for a heartbeat. I looked at her—really looked—at the light catching her hair, the quiet sincerity in her expression, the lingering sleep-softness in her voice. The bond hummed low beneath my ribs.
Want. Fear. Need.
All tangled together, impossible to separate. I stepped back from her. Not far—just enough to attempt a few breaths that didn’t clog my senses with her sweetness.
“Ribbon needs to come home now,” I said, even though it sounded weak to me.
Ribbon croaked loudly in protest, puffing up like a marshmallow of pure defiance. Hanna giggled—giggled, not laughed—and something in my chest clenched tight.
“I can walk with you,” she offered. “To help coax him.”
“That isn’t necessary,” I told her, gruffly, struggling to not just dash away in the opposite direction from her.
“I want to,” she said simply.
And that. That undid me a little. Not enough to admit anything, but enough that when she slipped on her shoes and stepped out into the hallway, I found myself falling into step beside her without a word.
Ribbon followed, smugly herding us like a toad-shaped chaperone. I was going to threaten to skin him and cook him later. Knowing him, he’d just gloat that he’d gotten his way.