Chapter 19 For You Alone
Casimir
“Bro, we need to sort out our issues like that more often,” Zane groaned from his sprawl on the rug, red hair catching fire in the sun as he lay there and panted. “A good old-fashioned, knock-down, drag-out brawl.”
“You scared the animal.” I cut my eyes to where Brumous crouched under an accent table.
“Aw, come here, Brummy,” he crooned. “Your daddies are done wrestling for the night.”
I rolled my eyes, but stayed silent as the clown coaxed the wolf out from his hiding spot.
The kitchen doorway was twenty feet to my left. Twenty feet wasn’t far enough. I had caught every one of our beloved’s fractured whispers to Koa, despite Zane’s best efforts to distract me.
He doesn’t like me, does he? Seri’s voice came through the walls like smoke, seeping into every crack of my ribcage.
I crushed a fresh roll of gauze between my hands.
“Flowers,” Zane declared, flipping onto his elbows as Brumous slowly crept toward him. “Chocolates. You know, normal human courtship rituals. Not whatever this is.”
He gestured to the triage station I’d built on the coffee table. Neat rows of antiseptic wipes, sterile scissors, three types of wound sealant…
My thumbnail dug into the gauze’s plastic wrapper. Tactical assessments I could parse. Supply inventories made sense. Seri? She was a whole different kind of battlefield, one that required a toolkit of skills I clearly lacked.
“She needs her wounds tended to, not cheap sentiment.”
“Oh, right, because nothing says ‘I adore you’ like compress wraps and antibiotics.” Zane rolled to wrap an arm around Brumous as the pup laid down next to him. “Tell me, when you stitched her up, did you even look at her face? Or were you too busy counting sutures?”
“Eighteen.” My grip tightened on the medical shears. “Precise placement requires complete attention, not distraction—”
“Damnation, Seri! Let me carry you!” Ko’s baritone shook the ceiling as our beloved hobbled into the living room. Her bandaged ankle buckled as she crossed the threshold, and I moved before I thought, hands braced to catch her shoulders, medical checklist shredding into static.
She collided with my chest, all flying curls and uneven breaths. Behind her, Ko raked his fingers through his black hair, and Brumous let out a happy yip from beneath Zane’s elbow.
“Stubborn little woman—”
“Casimir.” Her fingers curled against my biceps.
“If you’re not busy, you said you’d check my arm.
” The word rushed out of her in a single breath.
Her eyes darted over to Ko, who nodded almost imperceptibly, before she turned her attention back to me.
“The bandage itches, and I’m worried about the infection.
You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know you don’t—”
Ice flooded my veins.
He doesn’t like me, does he?
As though I hadn’t memorized every injury she had. As if I could forget the exact number of stitches holding her together. As if I hadn’t set up specifically to do that right here in this room.
“Sit on the couch and—”
“Casimir.”
Her whisper locked every one of my muscles in place. She stood with her gaze locked on the base of my throat.
“Do you want to?”
The shears clattered onto the table. Twelve years surviving Father’s brutal training regime. Nine years hunting. Three hundred and ninety confirmed kills. Not once had a simple question turned my tongue to stone.
“Want?” The word came out ragged, stripped bare. I cleared my throat. “You require assistance. I’ll provide it.”
Her shoulders slumped, and Zane groaned theatrically. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ko drop his face into his palm as he shook his head.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped closer, boot tips nearly touching her new sneakers. Slowly, agonizingly, I forced my clenched fist to open. Let my fingers brush the uninjured side of her jaw.
“I will always help you,” I said, thumb grazing the apple of her cheek.
Her head shot up, and those eyes swallowed me whole. Somewhere beyond the roaring in my ears, Zane muttered, “Better. Still terrible, but better.”
“Sweater.” The word emerged sharper than intended. I modified cadence, loosened shoulders, conscious adjustments that felt like removing shrapnel without anesthetic. “Do you need help taking it off?”
“Maybe,” she hedged when the clear answer was yes.
“Then I’ll help you with that, too.”
My mind was already mapping out the steps: check her ankle first, then her arm, careful not to tug too hard if the bandage stuck.
I’d need fresh gauze, antiseptic, maybe the suture kit if she’d popped any stitches.
How many? Two? Three? The logistics were clear, straightforward, something I could handle without stumbling over my own moon-damned tongue.
“Oh, here we go,” Zane drawled from the floor, halfway under Brumous now. “Watch out, Seri, Cas is about to give you a step-by-step battle plan for treating your injuries.”
The smirk on his face made my jaw tighten, but it wasn’t his teasing that hit me. It was the truth behind it. I was treating this, treating her, like an assignment. It came naturally. That’s what I did. But Seri wasn’t a mission; she was everything.
And if she thought I didn’t care about her because I couldn’t figure out how to say or show it, then I was failing her in the worst way possible.
“I mean, it’s, um.”
She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the floor, and I could see the struggle in her expression. She wanted to be strong, to push through, but she was scared. Scared of being vulnerable, scared of us seeing her vulnerable.
“Aw, I’m sure you’ll survive it, blossom,” Zane waved one hand dismissively. “Just don’t be embarrassed if you notice how hard you make him.”
“Amabel said I was so unattractive, I wouldn’t arouse my husband.”
The words hung between the four of us, fragile and sharp, like a shard of glass balanced on the edge of a table. Her fingers plucked at her sweater hem, knuckles white, as my brothers and I stood in shocked silence.
“I know I’m not the kind of girl a man would want.”
Oxygen fled my lungs. My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my temper in check.
Koa wasn’t so controlled. His punch shattered a wall sconce, making Seri jump. Glass rained down as he stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the furniture.
Zane kipped up in a heartbeat.
“Well, those bitches were full of shit. I get hard just watching you sit in a chair. Fully clothed and everything. I can show you right now if you want.” His hands went to his belt buckle, and her eyebrows flew up, her cheeks cherry red.
“Zane!” I snapped.
“Well, if I can’t show you, let me list the ways those harpies are wrong. Your eyes—”
“Are currently bloodshot from sleep deprivation,” I interjected. “Your hair—”
“Curls like shavings of sunshine!” He twirled a tress around his finger.
“—needs conditioning treatment to prevent split ends. And your body—”
“Rivals Aphrodite’s!”
“—requires seventeen pounds of healthy weight gain. Minimum.”
Zane went dead still and turned to glare at me.
“You’re worse than a ghoul, Casimir.”
“Accurate,” I agreed, kneeling before her. “Your stepsisters’ assessment lacks all value, Serafina.”
She hunched inward, her long hair curtaining her face on either side. Arabesque’s daughters had carved insecurities into her bones, apparently.
“Change your strategy fast, asshat!” Zane hissed as he dropped beside me, then louder, “You’re our whole world, moonbeam. Even if you were ugly, which you’re not, we’d still want you.”
“Seri,” I said, cutting through Zane’s inanity. “What matters is what we think. Your stepsisters don’t get a say in that—”
“What my emotionally illiterate brother means is, your laugh makes selkies weep into their kelp beds,” he broke in. “When you bite your lower lip like that? Hades himself would trade Cerberus for one kiss.”
“What my poetically challenged brother means—”
“Is we’re bewitched, bothered, and spectacularly besotted.” He trapped her fluttering hands between his own. “You’re real. And your ours.”
“But Eluned said I was just trash.”
Koa’s roar shook the rafters. Through the windows, we watched him denude a topiary elephant with his bare hands.
“Should I?” She made a vague gesture toward him.
“Stay.” I rose. “Zane will.”
“Already on it.” He squeezed her fingers before also standing.
“Can you take Brumous with you so he can do his business?” She glanced at me, then Zane. “Or I can do it after Casimir is finished—”
“What part of ‘rest your ankle’ requires translation?” I growled.
“I got it, sweetheart. C’mon, Brum-Brum.
You can go widdle and poo-poo while Daddy Z tackles Daddy Ko.
” Zane flung open the door and strode out, Brumous happily tagging along, and we could hear him shouting as he went.
“Yo, Brother Angry Ass! Let’s discuss horticultural abuse over beer!
You can murder a six-pack instead of our shrubberies! ”
The door clicked shut.
“Really, Casimir, you don’t have to.”
Casimir again. I’d been Casimir four times in less than five minutes.
She’d taken back my nickname.
Even if it was silly, it was mine. And I’d screwed up so badly that she’d rescinded it.
“Yes. I do.” I swept her into my arms and headed for the couch. “And you are not trash. You are…”
How could I know how to disembowel a wyvern, but not know how to complement my beloved?
“Are you okay?” She laid her hand on my chest. “Your heartbeat’s really fast.”
I nearly dropped her while lowering her to the couch.
“Cardiovascular exertion,” I lied.
“I don’t think that’s true.” Her nose wrinkled up. “You just said I’m underweight, and you walked five steps.”
The accusation landed softer than dandelion fluff. Dangerous, how her timid challenges sparked something nearly fiercer than desire inside me.
She winced as she shifted, and the lamplight haloed her split lip, the bruise blooming orchid-purple at her temple, the thick welt on her jaw.
“You’re shaking,” she observed.
Am I?