Chapter Five #5
Though, logically, she was far from the sort of person he would associate with if given the choice, she was also surprising and charming.
There was a keen intelligence to her that she played off as stupidity, a fault of logic that still rankled, yet the depths of her reasoning were all the more intriguing.
He felt drawn not only to her physically, but to protect her, to right the wrongs of her past, to prove that not everyone requires payment from her.
He was not normally the hero sort. He was born with a rare gift, one that he did not choose, and it became his purpose to use that ability for others.
It was not done of altruism or for the glory or any sort of ‘rush’ gleaned from saving a life.
It was pure obligation. After the failures of his past, saving others had become a responsibility.
Kieran was a public servant. Not a hero.
Then why, in the Divine’s name, did he wish to be hers?
A dangerous and unwelcome development. His hand on her leg—an emotional attempt to soothe and placate her growing anxiety and a gesture far outside the purview of acceptable civility—had happened instinctively.
Thank the gods for the layers of her skirts or he would have found himself rattled by the glaring dangers of Sera Blair.
His isolation over the years rendered him…
intolerant to touch. He still needed a way to remedy his reactions to her physically.
I should end her Game here and now. Make it clear that there can be no more shared contact or personal exchanges between us.
Logic was typically his strongest impulse, prompting most of his actions.
Yet now, even knowing the danger she presented, he kept his mouth shut.
He ignored the wiser choice of limiting ways for Sera to initiate contact.
It was foolish, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to cut off the possibility completely.
It seemed some buried, suffocated part of him was getting stronger and demanded that logic shut the fuck up for once.
“North? Is everything alright?”
He met her eyes, blinking away the rampant train of his thoughts. He had already removed his hand, but the gesture lingered on his skin. A warm presence that wouldn’t dissipate no matter how hard his fist contracted.
I will not care about her.
He offered a stiff nod before turning to the window. No more meeting her dark, pleading eyes or he might do something he would regret. This day had taken a toll on him and he feared he was not as in control as he preferred.
When the carriage halted at the entrance to the Winter Court, Kieran sprang from his seat and instructed Joy to ensure Sera arrived home safely.
It occurred to him he’d been meaning to let Joy go, but so much had happened it slipped his mind.
It would have to be done sooner or later, the very fact that he trusted his driver to ensure Sera’s safety was proof enough they had reached a level of camaraderie Kieran couldn’t allow.
Tomorrow. He'd worry about it tomorrow.
He took a different path. One more taxing and less maintained.
Walking, then running. Feeling the cold like a welcomed caress after so long in the warmer city.
He’d removed the glacite from his carriage when he decided to take Sera to work with him.
Another gesture to appease her, to make her more comfortable. Another step closer to affection.
Kieran rubbed his face with his hands, blessedly alone in the untamed woods along the eastern borders of the court.
Blessedly free to savor the crunch of the fresh snowfall.
Free to scatter the unmarred crystalline ocean into a flurry of disorder with his boots.
Free to draw his fingers through his hair until the neatly arranged strands stuck at odd angles.
The dark sky loomed overhead released a fresh layer of snow as if nature sensed how much he needed it. Kieran turned his face up to the clouds and let the crystals melt on his cheeks until the rioting emotions settled and calm was restored.
It was much later when he returned home, hoping Sera had already retired for the evening.
He headed for the kitchen for something to eat. He’d missed supper and the daily staff clocked out at seven. The few servants who lived in the estate were not assigned cooking details.
“Ah, shit.”
The voice from the kitchen stopped him cold. Kieran closed his eyes. Of course, the universe was full of cruel humor. A little snow to fool him into security and now he would find the one person in the world he hoped to avoid. He should turn around.
“No, no—”
Crash.
Kieran rushed into the kitchen to find Sera, teetering on a chair, balancing a plate and a jar in one arm and staring down at the shattered remains of a teacup.
“Oh, um, I can explain,” she started, but he was not in the mood for banter.
He simply offered a hand, keeping his eyes away from her as her weight sank onto him.
He attempted to ignore her radiating heat, the ripples of pleasure igniting down his arm, the mind-numbing sensation of her soft skin.
He steeled his features, staring straight ahead as she maneuvered to the floor.
Fought the incessant need to close his fingers over hers, seal the gesture and perhaps draw her closer—if her hand was overwhelming, then all of her would be—
He pulled his arm away. Flexing away the lingering pulse in his hand before retrieving the broom.
“I can do that.”
“I’ve already finished.” He poured the mess into a bin and went to the basin to clean his hands.
The water was glacier cold and he wished it would sting the way it would any other race.
Pain would be welcome right now. He retrieved a new cup and set it in front of her on the large center table used for food preparation.
Her lips were drawn. Face scrunched as if she could sense his mood. He did not wish to seem the brooding dark lord locking the lady away in his castle, but tonight, he was too tired to care one way or the other. His countenance hovered closer to exhausted irritation, at present.
“Here.” He set a loaf of bread next to her.
“Thanks. But how did you know I wanted bread?”
He set down a knife and gestured to the jar she’d attempted to balance in her arms.
“Right.” She quickly cut a piece and began to spread the preserves.
Kieran went to the storeroom where there were often pastries leftover from the morning. The staff didn’t hold dinner for him, but they did lock away the odd leftover or non-perishable snack. He’d told them it wasn’t necessary, but today he was grateful.
Pine cake was good at any time of day, sitting out in the cold only made it better. He didn’t bother to slice it, set the whole confection on a plate and hooked a stool with his foot so he could sit on the opposite side of the table.
Sera’s movements were stilted. Kieran hardly looked at her, but he noticed that much.
“So…” she started, and he braced himself for conversation. “What’s that?”
Kieran had expected her to address the awkward encounter from earlier. To demand answers to questions he didn’t wish to answer. ‘Why had he put his hand on her leg?’ ‘Why had he shut down after a single touch?’ This line of conversation was manageable.
“What’s what?”
She motioned to his plate. “That. I’ve never seen it before.”
“It’s pine cake. A faery dish. Rather, a Winter Faery dish. I doubt your Summer Fae friend would enjoy it.”
“Can I try?”
He cut a piece free and set it on her plate, careful not to initiate contact with her. Touching her again would be devastating.
“Oh it’s…” she struggled to chew. “That’s, um.” She swallowed, fumbling to get water into her cup and chug it down. “That’s gross.”
His lips quirked, the threat of a smile. He was simply too tired to fight it. And a wave of warning went off like distant sirens in the back of his mind, easily ignored, but not unnoticed. “That’s why I didn’t offer.”
“Ah, so that was gallantry, instead of rudeness?” She laughed at her own jest and he tried not to dwell on the sound. Tried not to think about the warmth that filled his chest or the way it seemed to make him feel calm when his mind was screaming for panic.
“So. What happened?”
He looked at her, almost begging that she not start this conversation.
“No one is this detached without a reason,” she said, but her eyes were soft with sympathy. “You don’t have to tell me. I just figured, maybe you want to.”
That caught him off guard. “Why would you think that?”
“Mostly because I feel like I’m the first person to ask.” She was not wrong. “But also, if anyone can understand fucked up, it’s me.”
He continued to eat without responding. Sharing his fears? Talking? Heart to heart conversation? These were the stops on the road to affection.
“Or not.” She said, her full lips jutting in a pout as she finished eating. “Are you really determined to go to Wraith?”
Kieran chewed slowly, waiting until he fully finished and swallowed before responding. “Yes.”
She huffed. “I still think it’s a waste of time. Or worse, dangerous. You don’t want your name to catch Wraith’s interest.”
“What choice do I have? I intend to end Cole’s threat to you. I see no other way to do so quickly without going down there and killing him myself. Which would put me at risk with the Watchmen.”
“But—”
“Sera, I’m tired. I’m starving. It has been the day from hell and I would very much like to eat without arguing.” His tone was clipped. He was unable to mask the edge leeching out from his over-stimulated thoughts.
The scrape of her chair echoed through the room as she pushed backward. “Fine. Eat your disgusting cake—which isn’t even cake, by the way, it’s not sweet and it’s crunchy—and get yourself flagged as Wraith’s enemy and see if I lose any sleep over it.”
He swallowed another bite. “I didn’t name it, and it’s supposed to crunch.”
She threw her hands in the air, voice rising. “You’re infuriating.”
“And you are yelling.”
“Fine,” she said through her teeth. She pointedly dusted her hands and then set her dishes into the sink before turning on her heel. “Goodnight.” She stormed into the cellar, chin in the air.
Kieran counted to five before she turned around, cheeks red, and proceeded toward the actual exit.
If there was a door to the kitchen, he suspected she would have slammed it.
He listened to the stomp of her footsteps retreating down the hall, he couldn’t get the words out, not until the sound of her disappeared and a soft ‘goodnight, Seraphina’ followed.