Chapter Twenty Four
It was late into the night when I finally began my journey back to the Inn, steps faltering as I stumbled.
I drank far too much and I was fully expecting a lecture from one of the others tomorrow, but I wouldn't worry about that tonight. No, tonight my sole focus was getting back to my room without being accosted on the unfamiliar streets.
It had been stupid really, to stay so late and imbibe in the firemead so much, but it hadn't been entirely fruitless.
The local crowd had been far more welcoming the later the night got and the more firemead everyone had indulged in.
I'd lost track of Bran, Gianni, and Rena at some point, and I was slightly irked that none had thought to take me back with them.
Yet, I had heard that myth once more.
When the fires of the tavern had died down and the music stilled to a stop, whispering voices instead took their place. I had heard of the demon brothers of the Nine Hells seeking vengeance for their fallen brother, and I couldn't help but wonder what validity, if any, the tale held.
Was it just the wandering stories conjured by locals, or was there a kernel of truth to it? I’d mention it to Kairen tomorrow, see if there was more information we could glean, but tonight? Tonight, I was simply going to sleep.
My steps were unsteady as I walked up the rickety stairs of the Inn, my hands fumbling as I retrieved the key from my pocket. Yet before I could insert it, the door was creaking open on its hinges.
Rena's disheveled hair poked out first, her imploring eyes next before I caught the apologetic smile she was offering.
Her voice was a whisper as she glanced over her shoulder at something, rather someone, in the room.
“Do you think you could bunk with Kairen and Bran tonight?
I'll owe you for the rest of our Goddess-blessed lives.”
I giggled slightly at the pleading in her voice, my ears perking as the voice of a woman called out quietly to Rena somewhere behind the door.
"Have fuuun," I sang, as I moved back to Kairen and Bran's door. I knocked lightly, but there was no answer.
I knocked once more, harder. Nothing again. My brows furrowed as I tried the handle to no avail—locked.
Well shit.
Sighing, I leaned back against the door, mind swimming. My attention travelled to the door across the hall, reluctance creeping through my mind. There wasn't really another option unless I wanted to sleep in the hall like a drunkard, was there?
I took two unsteady steps to the door before my knuckles were rapping against the wood, nerves ticking up. This was a bad idea, horrid really. What if he refused, like he had earlier in the night?
Or worse, what if he thought I was trying to climb into his bed for other reasons?
I pondered for a moment, deciding that maybe that wouldn't be so bad, before the door opened and I casted away any of those thoughts, cheeks flushing.
Roan stared at me through sleepy, hooded eyes. His messy white hair was a telltale sign I had interrupted a peaceful rest and my breath caught when I saw his state of undress. Merely clothed in his linen pants that hung low on his hips, his chest bare.
He opened the door wider, arms crossing as he leaned against the doorframe. "Syra?"
Swallowing thickly at the huskiness in his tone, my eyes avoided what I had slowly been taking in only a moment before and I let out a nervous laugh, a hiccup quick to follow.
"Hey." I rubbed the back of my neck as awkwardness wrapped its oily tendrils around me. "Rena has company and Bran isn't back yet. I don't think Kairen is either. Could I maybe sleep here, at least until they return?"
His brows bunched, processing the request.
After a moment of silence, my anxiety simmering and all but palpable in the air between us, my next words were a rush. “Nevermind, I'll just wait out here for—"
A shriek left my lips as I tipped backwards, feet tripping one another with a step back.
Before I could hit the floor Roan reached out, a strong calloused hand wrapping around my arm to pull me back to a steady stance.
"How much did you drink?" He grumbled, stepping back from the doorway and gesturing for me to enter.
Gratefully, I moved inside, eyes immediately adjusting to the dim room and promptly settling on the singular, large bed. The retort died upon my lips as my eyes darted to him. My fingers curled, nails digging into skin.
"I didn't realize the room only had one bed. I can take the floor until the others return.”
I reached for a pillow, but his hand stopped me and he shook his head. “Don't be ridiculous. Take the bed, little menace."
"You were so happy to have your own room though, I can't steal the bed from you."
"It's big enough for two."
His response had my eyes widening, attention settling on that annoying little smirk on his lips. He was teasing me. My mouth flattened for merely a moment before I decided to play along, wanting to call his bluff.
"Don't try anything funny then, Captain," I murmured, lashes fluttering as I moved to sit upon the edge and remove my shoes. "Do you have a shirt I could borrow? Rena didn't give me any clothes to change into. I was going to borrow one from Bran."
He shuffled around for a moment before he leaned close, his eyes boring into mine with a playfulness I was beginning to become familiar with.
He held the shirt up between us as he spoke, his voice still soft with that slight huskiness that had my toes curling.
“You're telling me not to try anything funny?
" His eyes held laughter that had my gaze narrowing upon him.
"You're the one who stumbled drunk into my room demanding to borrow my clothes.
I should be the one telling you not to take advantage of me, don't you think? "
Flushing, I motioned for him to turn so I could change and he obliged, moving away with a predatory slowness that had me quaking, a warmth alighting in my stomach that had nothing to do with the firemead. This truly had been a horrible idea.
"You're the one who suggested sharing a bed," I shot back, but my tone lacked the bite I tried to convey. My dignity crumpling beneath the flush that I knew stained my cheeks.
"I told you before, I'm not a kind man," he responded, eyes fixed on the wall as he crossed his arms. I quickly stripped from my clothing, swiftly pulling his soft linen shirt over my head.
It hung mid thigh, baggy and comfortable against my skin, smelling of rain and cedar.
"I may be selfless enough to share the bed, but I'm selfish enough not to give it up entirely. "
He turned back around when I murmured I was decent, his eyes immediately traveling down to my bare legs. Gaze snapping away, his throat cleared as he looked anywhere but at me. Lifting the rumpled covers, I slid beneath them and snuggled down into the bed with a contented sigh.
"Thank you for letting me sleep here," I finally spoke as I felt the bed dip. “For someone who claims to have a heart so wicked and black, you're being awfully nice to me."
He didn't respond and I felt the firemead slowly pulling me into a deep sleep, my breaths coming soft.
"You're like a storm," he whispered into the darkness, and I struggled against the lull of exhaustion, humming in response.
“Terrifying and beautiful all at once. As if I'm caught in the eye of it, a peace and stillness that I could lose myself in, while everything l've known around me is ripped to shreds. "
"A storm?" I slurred softly, sleep and drink slowing my mind as I rolled to face him. “Where there’s a storm, there’s rain.”
He smiled softly, eyes roaming over my face and I spoke again, my fingers tracing little shapes upon the pillow I rested on. “Why did you leave earlier?"
"I was enjoying myself too much."
"Is joy a bad thing?"
His quiet laugh had my frown deepening and I reached over to slap his chest lightly, but his hand caught mine entwining our fingers, my breath catching as he rolled and leaned closely in until our noses were nearly touching.
"I've spent my whole life avoiding the things that I can't have, little menace.
" His voice was low, soft with a sadness that I couldn't quite comprehend in that moment, yet it fractured my heart all the same.
“The things that bring me joy never truly stay mine for long, they're always taken. If that were to happen to—”
"To what?" There was a desperation in the question. A desperation to hear the admission, for him to voice it and not be able to take it back.
"Will you remember this in the morning?" He asked.
"No."
"Liar." His laugh broke the tension and I sighed, my own bubbling up.
"Fine, keep your secrets tonight, Delmar." My teasing tone died out and my eyes studied his face, the restraint set into all the sharp edges of him. “But not forever, okay? Tell me eventually.”
"Eventually." His response was hesitant, but a promise underlied his words. His hand still entwined with mine squeezing once—gently.
I gave a contented sigh before the lull of sleep became too strong and I let it pull me under.