Chapter Eight
Rex
A few days have passed since the little incident with Darien, which I’ve decided wasn’t so little.
The more I mull it over, the more concerned I become.
Sure, Darien promised he wouldn’t breathe a word about what he saw.
Plus, people have been ridiculed for decades over claims of Howler sightings.
Half the time, they can’t even get the description right.
My gut clenches. Darien did a pretty good job describing me, though.
I finish chopping up some parsley and add them to some mixed greens. Clover loves arugula the best, but I always make sure she gets a good mix.
The meat pies that I make for Winston and my fox Chester are almost done baking, but I’ll have to leave them out to cool. Out means in a locked cupboard. Otherwise, the entire crew would be tearing into them.
Since my menagerie can come and go as they please, it means no food item is safe. As it is, Winston is a little crumb whore and scours the premises for minuscule flecks of food whenever I’m not around.
I shuffle around the kitchen, putting the salad mix into portioned containers, wiping down the counters, and rinsing off the dishes and utensils.
Making food for carnivores who reside with herbivores that are in their food chain is a true challenge.
We’ve worked out an agreement so everyone could co-exist, but bobcat Zed is definitely my problem child.
The grumbling over not getting any squirrel or rabbit meat anymore is a recurring theme. He argues that chicken just isn’t the same, and I argue that Clover has a fuckton of relatives in the forest.
I finish the last of my chores, no longer able to put off facing the day.
Glancing at the laptop, I wonder whether I should shoot off a message to Boone.
The Monster Network wi-fi is the only signal going in and out of the cave, and it’s mega-protected by all kinds of high-level spells.
I can’t even begin to imagine the shit show we’d have if we ever got hacked.
I shake my head.
No. This is my problem to work through. If I get into a real jam, then I can bring him into the loop.
I’m probably stressing out over nothing, though.
I’ve made myself scarce the past couple of days in case Darien stopped by the inn or called.
My instincts were right on. Darien hasn’t paid a visit, but Gavin told me he left a couple of messages.
I still haven’t looked at them. And I certainly haven’t called him back.
I comb back my hair and put it in a hasty ponytail. I push aside the thoughts that have been plaguing me night and day. A few slightly inappropriate musings might’ve snuck in here and there. But I’ve been primarily worried about whether he’s okay, and wishing I could be with him just to make sure.
Purely as a concerned friend, of course.
So why didn’t I simply call him back to see how he was doing? I yank my ponytail a little too tight.
“Ow.” Clover hops over, and I scoop her up. “No, I’m not falling for him. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Better I tell the bunny than Darien.
“And anyway, it would never work out. He’s terrified of me, so that’s the end of it.” She blinks several times, and I frown. “Quit judging me.”
I tuck her into bed, grab my laptop, and make my way to my truck. By the time I’ve traveled the short distance to the inn, I’ve successfully banished the delectable Darien from my thoughts.
Sort of.
“Hey, boss,” greets Gavin as I tug open the door. “I have, like, a thousand questions.”
I inwardly groan even as I realize it’s my own damn fault for hiding away like a big coward.
Gavin is leaning on the counter, supporting himself with his elbows.
My eyes dart to the desk. A mish-mash of paper, randomly tossed pieces of mail, and five used and semi-used mugs of coffee decorate the surface.
My eye twitches at the sight of the half-eaten donut surrounded by a smattering of crumbs and powdered sugar that would send Winston into an orgasmic frenzy.
“S-sure.” I force my gaze back to him. “Why don’t we start with five of the most urgent questions, then table the others after I’ve had some coffee?” That I won’t be bringing to the desk. I force a smile. “Then perhaps you can tidy up while I go through my messages?”
“Oh!” Gavin snaps his fingers. “That reminds me. That guy Darien, the one who called yesterday? He’s sitting in the café.” Gavin grins. “I told him you’d be here by ten.”
I grit my teeth. “Terrific.” If terrific means fuck my life, then it’s the exact word I should use. “In that case, let’s hold off on the questions, and I’ll have my coffee in there.”
Might as well get this over with.
Even though I’m not technically marching to my doom, the pit in my stomach is making me believe I am. My head has been a swirling mass of chaos over the past few days, my thoughts unable to focus on one specific aspect of the situation.
Why am I pining for a human? Should I ignore my feelings? What would happen if I didn’t ignore them? Will Darien think I’m crazy, be scared, or want to hurt me if he finds out? And the biggie. Was he even into men? I could be coming unglued over nothing if he’s as straight as a pin.
I push open the door that connects the café to the office, my gaze immediately landing on the star of my lurid dreams. His back is to me in the booth positioned halfway between the door and the counter.
Even so, I know it’s him. Not because he’s one of only three customers in the entire restaurant, but because that tousled auburn hair has starred in my ongoing fantasy of the past few days.
My fingers carding through the soft strands. The scent that’s uniquely Darien, the mix of pine and what reminds me of honey, the smell from the first time I gathered him in my arms, holding him close to keep him safe. My fists clutching his hair, gripping him tightly as he…
I suck in a deep breath, taking a second to compose myself. I doubt things will go well if I saunter up to the table with a raging boner.
“Good morning, Darien.” Why does my tone sound so formal? I gesture to the seat across from him. “Can I join you?”
Darien peers up, his expression almost unreadable. His eyes hold a smidgen of fear, but the rest I can’t work out. My instinct tells me he’s being guarded. My own paranoia rises to the surface. Maybe he’s gone to the authorities already to report the attack.
“Yeah, of course.” Darien ducks his head. “As long as I’m not keeping you from anything.” He fiddles with the menu. “The guy at the front desk wasn’t sure whether you’d have time to meet with me.”
I slide onto the bench seat. “I apologize for not returning your calls. I should’ve checked on you, made sure you were okay.”
Truthfully, I do feel like an ass for not following through.
He lifts his gaze, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “That’s okay. I figured you were busy.”
I draw my eyebrows together. “No, it’s not okay. That was downright inconsiderate of me.”
Darien averts his eyes again and continues to fondle the laminated menu. “I don’t think so. You seem so nice.”
I straighten. Not sure what to make of the non-sequitur, I focused on unearthing the reason behind his visit. Most people don’t drive considerable distances to find out why their calls haven’t been returned.
“So, how have you been doing? Are you hurting at all?”
Darien glances up. “No, not really. Sometimes I get a weird pulsing in my head I’ve never felt before, but not any pain.” He wiggles, clearing his throat. “But I can’t stop thinking about, you know…” He leans in and whispers, “It.”
So far, I’ve been a thing, a creature, and a beast. Now I’m an It.
I hold up my hand and catch my cook Jimbo’s attention. From what I can tell, it looks as if Georgia hasn’t made it in yet. She’s getting on in years, and her arthritis is a son of a bitch on some days.
But she’s been a server all her life, lives alone, and loves coming to the café to jaw back and forth with the locals. She’s like family and welcome to stay as long as she wants. Still, I’ve put in an ad for a summer server to help with the load so she doesn’t get overwhelmed.
Jimbo saunters over. “Whatcha need, boss?”
“I’ll take my morning brew.” I gesture to Darien. “What would you like? My treat.”
Darien chews on his lower lip as if the question were a matter of life or death. “Just more coffee, thanks.”
I shake my head. “How about one of the café’s legendary cinnamon rolls? They’re practically the size of a basketball.”
Darien chuckles, his features brightening. Gods, but he’s adorable when he smiles. “I don’t think I can eat an entire basketball.”
“How about we share?” I wink, and his blush deepens.
“Sure.” He ducks his head again.
After Jimbo brings my coffee and refills Darien’s mug, it’s time to do a deep dive into why Darien is seated before me, destroying my resolve to never become involved with a human.
“So, tell me what it is that bothers you about…” I clench my jaw. Dammit. What should I call myself? Not something I’ve ever concerned myself with before. “You know, the being that attacked the mountain lion and saved your life.”
Darien tilts his head. “That’s an interesting take.” He shrugs. “But I suppose you’re right. That thing definitely distracted the cougar long enough for you to rescue me.”
I curl my toes inside my boots. The idea that I’ll ever be able to reveal my true self to him is evaporating the more we talk.
Which means I should tell my dick to go find someone non-human to indulge in my filthy fantasies with.
Maybe Tarek hasn’t left the planet yet. Being thrown around the room by a hot dragon would probably melt my brain cells long enough to forget about Darien.
“Regardless,” I begin, wrapping my palms around my cup. “There’s something still bothering you about what happened.”