Chapter 12 #2
I huffed a cold laugh. “Good for her.” My sister showed that backbone Graysen had accused her years ago of never having.
And I hoped now she’d see Caidan Crowther as he really was—a snake.
He’d likely been using this supposed friendship with her to get closer to our family.
Yet…that yearning I’d seen on his expression when they were together, alone in the laundry, and how that intense longing for my elder sister scored across his face unchecked…
There was no point in dwelling on any of that without a way to confront it, so I pushed it away and shoved it down deep to deal with later.
Right now, there were more important things to take care of.
Namely, Graysen fucking Crowther.
I gave Graysen a sly smile. What an idiot to bring my wraith-wolf to me. My gaze slid slowly to Sage, glued to my side, staring up at me, waiting for my order. “Bite his face off.”
Graysen was skilled, and I knew he’d battle his way free, but I was down to see Sage biting a chunk out of his ass and hear the prick howl in pain.
Wavering, misty fur hackled down the ridge of Sage’s spine. He growled long and low and surged forward. The quiet of the tower exploded with frenzied barks and snapping fangs.
“Go, Sage…GO!” I bounced up and down, clapping my hands enthusiastically above my head. I couldn’t fucking wait—I hungered for Crowther blood to spill!
The wraith-wolf danced on the spot, caught up in his wrath. He lunged to bite Graysen’s leg but pulled back just shy of sinking those saliva-dripping fangs into flesh. Graysen stood still, his body locked rigid, muscles clenched tight, and gaze fixed on the wraith-wolf.
And nothing.
I stopped jumping around, my claps drifting apart as I frowned at Sage and jabbed a finger at Graysen. “I said—bite his face off!”
Confusion twisted through me. I didn’t understand why my wraith-wolf hadn’t attacked the asshole.
In fact, as my arms fell limp to my sides, Sage was retreating slowly, drawing back, so he was flush with me. He whined, an awful sound, because it was more an apology than anything else, then lost all his fight, sinking to lie on the floor beside my bare feet.
What’s going on?
I shot Graysen a suspicious look. “What did you do to him?”
He tapped his forefinger against his throat where the inked fire scored upward. At first, I thought he was talking about me, and went to roar at him, when it clicked. Of course.
Kneeling, I searched around Sage’s neck and found a thin coil that hummed a low, electrifying note against my skin. Bottled lightning. The same magic we used in his kennels at home to keep Sage corporeal so he couldn’t fade into the wraith-void and escape.
Graysen’s broad shoulders lifted as he tucked both hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “If it makes you feel any better, that’s pretty much how he greets us every single day.”
It didn’t make me feel any better.
I surveyed the room, my gaze sliding to the door of my little bedroom where I’d slunk off, ill, despondent and depressed, sleeping away my days.
Wasting away without food or water. “I’ve never been so ill before, ever.
” I glanced over my shoulder and observed him scanning my body, looking and assessing. “What happened to me?”
Shadows lingered in his eyes. “You were…” he paused, his features tightening, as if it pained him to say it. “I forced you into hibernation by keeping you trapped in here without sunlight or moonlight.”
My jaw slackened. “You did what?”
“I didn’t know,” he said, watching me carefully, as if I still had that ancient beast inside me to unleash. “I didn’t realize what it could have done to you, trapping you in here with no natural light.”
He didn’t apologize, and I didn’t expect him to either, yet there was this small, tiny sliver of me that was disappointed.
“Hibernation.” I spoke the word slowly, testing it out. But that’s what those beasts did, or were currently doing now buried beneath the earth, slumbering, according to Graysen and what he’d shared with me last weekend.
Quickly pushing into motion, I shifted over to the dining table.
Sage kept close and settled at my feet. Sunlight sprayed across the dark wood and struck off the tall glass tumbler.
I picked it up, sipping but not tasting, simply something reactionary to do while I hid my confusion.
I’d spent my days outside burning the creature out twice a day.
Always in sunshine. If a storm rolled in, it never lasted as long as this week had without seeing the sun, its shafts of golden light caressing my skin.
And at night…
“I can’t be in the dark.” The words left me in an introspective whisper.
“I know,” Graysen said softly.
I loved the moon, so my bedroom curtains were always open, and it performed as another nightlight to banish my terror of absolute darkness. My bed was perfectly positioned for me to bask in moonlight…
Bask…
Like a wyrm.
I hadn’t been in the right state of mind this past week to think about that.
I stilled, trying to feel the wyrm out. Nothing.
Gone. I was hollow as a dry husk of wheat.
Zrenyth’s magic around my neck trapped the wyrm and hid it from me.
It was such an odd thing to now know what had concealed itself in the banks of fire, drawn out with the strike of Zrenyth’s whip to solidify into shape with flames of moonlight and sunlight.
Hello, tiny little thing…
Cold fury washed through me. I needed to be free of this godsdamned collar. I wanted off the estate and to bring the Crowthers to their knees. A little bloodshed wouldn’t go amiss either.
Thumping the glass down on the table with a thunk, water splashed over its rim and spilled over the table’s surface. I faced Graysen and spread my hands over my hips. “Let me go.”
His expression was unreadable. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. Just take this off,” I said, thumbing the rope collaring me. “And allow me to walk out the gates.”
He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Not going to happen.”
I caught the sparkle in his gaze. His mouth hadn’t smiled, but his godsdamned eyes had. Gone in a blink—but too fucking late, I’d seen it.
“This isn’t funny,” I snapped.
Somber emotions dulled the golden flecks in his irises. His humor faded. “I know it’s not funny.”
“What was all that about then?” I accused him, waving a hand around toward his face, “That secretive smile, you psychopath.”
He didn’t bother denying it. Striding over to the kitchen, he tossed over his shoulder, “All that barking at me you’ve done pretty much alleviates any doubts that you aren’t fully recovered, Miss Fire and Brimstone.”
He pulled open the concertina doors, revealing the smooth granite countertop, and began digging through his cupboards and drawers, pulling out bread, flour, sugar and honey. “You must be ravenous.”
I was hungry. Really hungry, my stomach reminded me with a grumble.
It was tempting to skewer him and roast him over a fire because I was so starved. Win-win.
And I needed a shower to wash my hair and untangle the knots, to scrub the stale sweat from my skin.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat… I can call the kitchen, or there might be something…” he said, the words drifting apart as he squatted down to fossick around the small fridge.
My mouth fell open as I gawked at him pulling out milk, eggs, and butter, placing them on the countertop.
He was in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Barefoot. And watching him rifling through his cupboards and fridge, him without socks or shoes, in his domain, felt intimate, too intimate, like we were sharing a house and playing at domestic life together. And that wasn’t us. Could never be us.
Un-fucking-believable.
Rage boiled my blood.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
He continued, “But I can cook you—”
“Cook!” I bellowed. Sage jumped to his paws, instantly alert. I didn’t understand why Graysen was acting like all of this was so fucking normal.
Thick brows shot up over eyes flared wide, staring at me as if I was the crazy one in all of this.
I threw up my hands. “Are you insane? Like, literally lost your mind insane?”
My vexation stabbed me in the gut, spitefully denying me a morsel of food so I could verbally hurl abuse at him. “You’re just going to keep me locked up here and divide up the cooking rotation and cleaning chores, both of us sharing the space like roommates or something?”
He rose slowly, confusion shading his gaze as his eyes bounced between mine. His lips parted, and he might have started to speak, but I was beyond dealing with this kind of crazy. I barreled toward my bedroom, Sage ahead of me.
Footfalls behind me announced Graysen was right on my heels.
“Nelle—”
Hearing the jerkass utter my name lit fury like gasoline on a campfire, roaring through my blood.
“What is this?” I snapped, spinning about to interrupt him.
“What the hells do you think you’re playing at?
If you think this,” I waved a finger between us, “is some kind of normal roomie setup, you’re fucking deranged! ”
My hand latched onto the doorknob of my bedroom as he started to follow me into my tiny domain. He frowned, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I was only offering to make you—”
Right as he crossed the threshold, I slammed the door right on his foot.
From behind the door, I heard him yowl. “Shit! Holy fucking hellsgate…shiiit!”
And when I yanked it open, he was bent over, rubbing his toes, wincing.
“Crowther?” My hand tightened around the round doorknob, the warmth of my palm heating the cool metal.
He glanced up, straightening with a half-hopeful look. “Yeah?”
“FUCK YOU!” And I slammed the door in his face, only to jerk it open—again and again and again—catching snippets of words and a mixture of expressions morphing from surprise to male fury between rapid, thunderous door slams.
“Will—”
SLAM!
“—you—”
SLAM!
“—stop—”
SLAM!
“—door—”
SLAM!
“—face—”
SLAM!
“—talk—”
SLAM!
“—me—”
SLAM!
“—fuuuck!”
SLAM!
I was breathing hard, jagged puffs of air, and the adrenaline blustering through my veins, pumping my heart faster, sputtered out.
I turned to slump my back against the door, suddenly dragged down by lethargy and misery.
Sage sat on his haunches watching me with his uncanny silver eyes.
If anything, I was grateful Graysen had returned my wraith-wolf to me, but I’d never tell him that.
I slid my head to the side, pressing my ear to the wooden door. “Crowther?”
“Yeah?”
“Never use my name again. It’s Wychthorn from now on.”
A soul-weary sigh. A sound like fingertips slowly drumming on wood. And then a soft thud, and the door rattled as if he’d done the same as me, both of us leaning against opposite sides.
“Crowther?” I said again, more quietly, but I knew with his keen hearing he’d hear me.
“Wychthorn?”
“Prepare to meet your worst roomie nightmare.”