17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Questions Without Answers
Aubrey
I’ve learned a lot of interesting things since starting work at a magical pawn shop. Like how naga scales feel impossibly smooth against bare skin. Or that when your boyfriend has a fifteen-foot tail, “Netflix and chill” takes on whole new meanings, especially when said tail decides to get handsy—or should I say tailsy?—during the quiet parts.
But the most surprising discovery?
How easily extraordinary becomes ordinary.
Two weeks into whatever this is between Sundar and me, I’ve stopped jumping when his tail sneaks around my waist while I’m cataloging collectibles. The way he carries me up to his apartment after closing—coiled around me like the world’s sexiest elevator—feels natural now. Even Mrs. Brindlewood’s knowing smirks when she catches us pressed together in the storeroom barely make me blush anymore.
“You’re humming again,” Maggie points out over our morning coffee. We’re squeezed into our tiny kitchen, and I’m probably burning the eggs, but I can’t stop smiling. “God, you’re disgustingly happy. Did snake daddy rock your world again last night?”
I jerk enough to accidentally scramble the eggs. “Uh. I will pay you actual money to never call him that again.”
She grins wickedly. “Fine. But seriously, Bree. I haven’t seen you this happy in… maybe ever?”
I want to brush it off with a joke, but she’s right. Everything feels different now. Better. Like I had been watching life in black and white, and suddenly someone turned on the color.
Even the shop feels more alive, and when I make my way inside, the sunlight is streaming through the windows, making all the glass cases sparkle. Sundar is at his usual spot behind the counter, looking unfairly gorgeous as he examines what appears to be a definitely cursed pocket watch. His golden eyes narrow in concentration, and his tail sweeps slowly across the floor as he’s deep in thought.
I check my phone calendar while waiting for him to finish.
Wait. That can’t be right.
“Hey,” I say, approaching the counter. “Did you realize it’s been almost five weeks since you hired me?”
Something flickers across his face—too quick to catch—before he sets down the watch. “Has it?”
“It has. Which means the contract’s almost up… So, does this mean I finally get my bracelet back?”
To be honest, I forgot about the bracelet and the contract, and really thought bringing it up now would be more amusing than anything.
Instead, Sundar’s entire body goes still—that predator-stillness that usually only happens when he’s truly upset or about to do deliciously wicked things to me. Given his expression, I’m guessing it’s not the fun kind this time.
“The bracelet requires additional research,” he says, his voice clipped and formal in a way I haven’t heard in a while. “There are certain anomalies that need investigation.”
I blink. “Anomalies? It’s just a family heirloom. What’s there to investigate?”
“Aubrey.” He says my name carefully. “Please trust that this is necessary.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. This isn’t my Sundar—the one who whispers filthy promises against my neck and grins at my terrible puns. This is the distant shopkeeper who first appraised my bracelet, keeping me at arm’s length.
“Sure,” I say lightly, even as anxiety crawls up my throat. “Whatever you need.”
His tail, which usually can’t resist curling around my ankle when I’m this close, remains firmly at his side of the counter.
The next few days become an exercise in pretending everything is fine when very clearly nothing is fine. Sundar still kisses me good morning, still makes me tea exactly how I like it, still wraps me in his tail at night. But there’s a new tension humming beneath every interaction, like a guitar string wound too tight.
I catch him in his office late one night, surrounded by ancient books that smell like dust and secrets. My bracelet sits on his desk, catching the lamplight. When I walk in, he quickly shifts the texts aside.
“Just standard research,” he says before I can ask.
“Right.” I force a smile. “Standard research at midnight. Totally normal.”
He doesn’t smile back.
The worst part is how my brain immediately starts spinning worst-case scenarios. Is he having second thoughts about us? Did Nalini come back? Is he finally realizing that dating a basic human girl who still watches Disney movies and stress-eats Oreos isn’t exactly on brand for an ancient, powerful naga?
“You’re spiraling again,” Maggie says when I voice these fears over lunch. “Have you tried, oh, I don’t know… asking him what’s wrong?”
I poke at my pad thai. “I have, I swear. He just gets all formal and vague. Like, ‘These matters require discretion, Aubrey.’ Which, okay, it’s sexy when he’s being commanding in bed, but much less sexy when he’s clearly hiding something important.”
“Men,” Maggie sighs. “Doesn’t matter if they’re human or monster, they all suck at communication.”
But it’s more than that. Something about my bracelet has him spooked, and I can’t shake the feeling it’s about more than just magical anomalies. The way he looks at it recently… It's like he’s afraid of what it might tell him.
I almost find myself wishing I’d never pawned it in the first place. But, of course, then I would have never met him and had my world turned upside down in all the right ways.
I’ll never come to regret these last couple of months, will I?
The worry keeps growing by the minute.
This morning, I make one last attempt to bridge the growing distance between us. I find Sundar in his usual spot, his tail moving in that agitated way that’s starting to become commonplace. The morning light catches his scales, making them shimmer gold and black, and for a moment I just watch him—this beautiful, impossible creature who somehow became mine.
Or at least, I thought he was mine.
“Can we talk?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. “About whatever’s bothering you? About the bracelet?”
His shoulders tense, and when he finally looks at me, his eyes are distant and guarded. “There is nothing to discuss at present,” he says in that maddeningly formal tone.
And just like that, I feel the last thread of my patience snap. The shop suddenly feels too small, too haunted by all these careful silences.
I need air. I need space. I need him to stop looking at me like I’m a customer instead of someone he’s woken up beside every morning for the past two weeks.
“I’m going to grab lunch,” I announce abruptly, heading for the back door. “Want anything?”
Sundar barely looks up from his ledger. “No, thank you.”
His tail doesn’t reach for me as I pass. He doesn’t try to pull me close for a quick kiss like usual. The absence of his touch feels wrong, like missing a step going downstairs.
The alley behind the shop feels different today. I’ve walked this path dozens of times, dodging the resident alley cat and waving to Mrs. Chen as she takes out boxes behind her restaurant. But today there’s no cat. No Mrs. Chen. No rattling air conditioners or honking horns from the main street.
Just an odd silence.
My footsteps echo against the brick walls, like the sound is being swallowed up by something thick and heavy. I shake my head, trying to clear it. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe all this tension with Sundar is finally getting to me. Maybe—
A sweet scent drifts past my nose, stopping that train of thought cold. It’s floral, but not like any flower I know. More like honey left out in the heat, cloying and strange. My steps falter as the smell grows stronger, wrapping around me like a physical thing. The edges of my vision start to blur, and walking in a straight line becomes way more complicated than it should be.
“What…” I try to turn around, to head back to the shop, but my legs aren’t cooperating. The world tilts sideways, then rights itself, then tilts again. Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of something moving—scales glinting in the weak sunlight, but not the familiar black and gold I’ve grown to love.
These scales are silver, elegant, and deadly. Like moonlight on a knife’s edge.
My knees buckle. The last thing I hear is a soft, feminine laugh, before I sink into darkness.