Chapter 10 Percival
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Percival
Mira is acting strange.
These past three days, she had been watching us with those careful eyes. She asked weird unprompted questions.
“How long have you three known each other?”
“Where did you grow up?”
“When did you arrive in town?”
I noticed. We all did. And honestly? It was driving me a little insane.
Not because she was prying. I wanted her to pry. I wanted her to ask me everything, to sit her down and spill centuries of history at her feet and watch her face as she realized exactly what she meant to us.
But she wasn’t asking us directly. She was circling. Gathering evidence, building a case as if we were suspects in a crime she hadn’t quite figured out yet.
It hurt more than I expected.
The morning sun cut through the windows of Lucian’s office as Solomon closed the door behind us. The three of us hadn’t had a proper meeting since Mira moved in.
“She knows.” Solomon stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the tree line.
Lucian sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, that permanent crease between his brows deeper than usual. Hundred years I’d known this man, and I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him this unsettled.
“Do you think her memory is coming back?” I asked.
“I think it’s just fragments.” Lucian’s voice was low. “She’s definitely had flashes since the fire.”
I dropped onto the worn leather chair across from his desk and ran a hand through my hair. This was a mess. A complete, utter mess. We don’t know what we’ve been doing.
“So what do we do? Keep waiting? Hope she remembers on her own before she decides we’ve been stringing her along?”
“We made the right call.” Lucian’s voice was firm, but I heard the uncertainty beneath it. “She’d just survived a fire. Lost her home, her memories, nearly lost her life. Dropping the truth on top of that-”
“Would have been too much. I know. We all agreed.” I met his gaze and held it. “But it’s been over a week now, Luc. She’s piecing things together on her own. And every day we stay quiet is another day she thinks we’re hiding something from her.”
“We are hiding something from her.”
His eyes flashed gold at the edges. Frustration, not anger. The same frustration I felt every time I watched her look at us with those careful, searching eyes.
“The bond is affecting her,” Solomon said quietly. “Even without the memories, she feels the pull. She’s drawn to us. Trusts us on instinct even when her mind tells her not to.”
“That’s not fair to her.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “We held back because we wanted to protect her. But don’t you think we can try again? Slowly, like before.”
The words hung between us.
Lucian exhaled through his nose and brushed a hand over his face. An exhale of a measured breath that meant he was about to do something he wasn’t entirely sure about.
“Fine. Let’s tell her,” he said. “Start with the bond, the connection. See how she handles that before we explain the rest.”
Solomon nodded once. “When?”
“Soon. Before-”
The door swung open.
Mira stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyes sweeping across the three of us intensely, making my wolf sit up and take notice. She didn’t wear her contacts in the cabin anymore.
“Did I disturb you?” She tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “Noticed you’ve got a meeting here. What is this... a super secret book club?”
I grinned despite the tension coiling in my chest. “You caught us. We’re discussing the literary merits of trashy romance novels. Solomon’s really passionate about second-chance romances.”
Solomon shot me a look.
“Percival.” Lucian’s voice carried a warning.
Mira’s gaze shifted to him. A silent conversation passed between them, one I couldn’t quite read. Those two had their own language, built from all the things neither of them would say out loud.
“What do you need?” Lucian asked.
She stared at us for a long moment. I watched her eyes move from Lucian to Solomon to me. This woman was too smart for her own good.
“Nothing,” she finally said. Her voice was careful, measured. “Just bored. I’ll leave you to your conversation. Seems important.”
She stepped back, hand moving to close the door.
“Mira.”
Lucian’s voice stopped her. She paused, half-turned, waiting.
“You know I told you that you can just ask us, right?”
She turned fully then and met his gaze. Held it with a weight that made the room go still.
“I know,” she said.
The door clicked shut.
Silence filled the space she’d left behind. Loaded with everything we weren’t saying.
“She doesn’t fully trust us to tell the truth,” Lucian said quietly.
No one disagreed.
***
The day dragged on after that.
I headed to my shift at the station while Lucian and Solomon stayed back to guard Mira. Today wasn’t my turn to stay, which meant eight hours of restless energy and clock-watching while my mind circled back to our problems.
By the time I got home, my muscles ached and my head was pounding and all I wanted was a shower and maybe twelve hours of sleep.
Mira was curled up on the couch when I walked in, reading on the tablet Solomon had bought her the other day. She looked up when the door opened.
“Long day?” she asked.
“The longest.” I managed a tired smile. “I’m going to shower. Have you eaten yet?”
“Yes. You should go rest.”
Lucian and Solomon were already pulling on their jackets by the door, ready to head out now that I was back. Lucian gave me a look that said we’ll talk later before they disappeared into the night. I gave Mira a small wave before trudging upstairs, peeling off my gear as I went.
I headed for the shower. A sound from the bedroom made my ears prick up.
Rustling. Soft footsteps.
Someone was in my room. I could smell her scent right away.
I paused and listened to her. What is she doing now?
There was shuffling outside and I realized she was looking for something. She was probably waiting for this. For the two serious and stricter guards that were Lucian and Solomon to leave.
Hm, she thinks it’ll be easier to sneak behind me, huh? Well, one guard is easier I guess.
She was definitely waiting for me to be distracted by the shower, for her chance to search the one room she couldn’t access while I was at the station all day.
Clever girl.
I didn’t turn off the water. Kept the spray running as I stepped out silently, wrapping a towel around my waist. Water dripped down my chest, pooling on the bathroom tile, but I didn’t bother drying off. I wanted to catch my little naughty woman.
I moved to the doorway and leaned against the frame, folding my arms across my chest.
Mira was crouched by my bedside table, one drawer pulled open, her hand halfway inside.
She wore a thin satin nightgown that barely reached her thighs, the fabric clinging to curves that made my mouth go dry.
The straps were delicate, barely there, and the color was a soft blush that made her skin glow in the lamplight.
My wolf stirred. Hungry and wanting.
“Can I help you?”
She startled so hard from my voice that she nearly fell over. Spun around to face me with wide eyes and guilt written across every feature.
Then her gaze dropped.
Her eyes traveled down my chest. Tracing the water droplets sliding over my abs, following the lines of muscle, pausing at the towel slung low on my hips. Her lips parted. A flush crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks.
The wolf in my chest growled with satisfaction.
Mine. Ours. Look at her looking at us.
“Eyes up here, love.”
Her gaze snapped to my face where I was grinning.
The flush deepened, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of that sinful nightgown.
But she didn’t look away. Didn’t apologize or make excuses.
Just stood there, chin lifted, caught red-handed and apparently deciding to brazen it out.
God, I loved that about her. That fire. That refusal to back down even when she was clearly in the wrong.
“I was borrowing a phone charger,” she said. Her voice came out slightly breathless.
“A charger.”
“Yes.”
“From my underwear drawer?”
The flush turned scarlet. “I didn’t know it was your underwear drawer.”
“Uh-huh.”
I pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. Giving her plenty of time to retreat.
She didn’t.
I stopped inches away. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin and to catch the hitch in her breath when I leaned down. Enough to see her pupils dilate as her body responded.
Mira leaned back instinctively. Her legs hit the edge of the bed and she wobbled, balance failing.
My hands found her waist on instinct, steadying her. The satin was thin enough that I could feel every curve beneath my palms. Warm skin through cool fabric. My fingers flexed involuntarily, pulling her closer, and a small sound escaped her throat.
That sound. I wanted to bottle it. Wanted to spend the rest of my considerably long life finding new ways to make her make that sound again.
I reached past her, my chest brushing her shoulder, and pulled the charger from the drawer she’d been rummaging through.
“Sure you can borrow it,” I said, my mouth close to her ear. “Even though you don’t have a phone. The last one got smashed against a wall, remember?”
In the bathroom, the shower clicked off automatically. The sudden silence made everything feel more intimate.
She swallowed hard. I watched her throat move and wanted to press my lips to the pulse fluttering beneath her skin.
I grinned wider instead. Couldn’t help it. She was gorgeous when she was flustered, all pink cheeks and stammered excuses and defiant eyes that refused to admit defeat.
She ducked under my arm and made a break for the door.
“You’re investigating us,” I called out.
Mira stopped. Hand on the door handle then back to me.