Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SANORA
Where the hell had Weeny Man disappeared to?
I exhaled slowly and knocked on his door again, this time with the kind of force that came from low, nagging frustration. “Weeny Man? Winifred? Weeny, it’s me. Sanora. Are you—ugh.”
I dropped my hand, stepped back, and stared hard at the door. Nothing.
I rolled my eyes and kicked the wood with the toe of my boot, more irritated than concerned now. I spun around, fists shoved into the pockets of my jacket. He wasn’t home. And judging from the dirty porch, he hadn’t been for a while. Definitely not in his bookshop either.
Where could he have gone?
People didn’t just leave Nimorran. Movement in and out of the city happened once a month, and the train didn’t leave until the end of this one. So unless he found a portal or grew wings, he was still here somewhere.
The last time we’d spoken, he’d looked...off and jumpy. Winifred was odd, yes, and always had an eye for the uncanny, but fear wasn’t something I associated with him. For someone who fed on scary myths and lore like candy, you’d think he was immune to fear.
I stepped towards the side path and walked down from his living quarters to the shop front, earth crunching under my boots.
His little bookshop sat crooked on its foundation like it had grown tired of standing straight. The windows were foggy, and a paper notice was stuck over the glass:
“Closed until further notice.”
I rose onto my tiptoes, pressing my forehead lightly to the glass and trying to peer past the stacked books inside. The light filtering in through the skylight caught motes of dust mid-air. Everything else was still.
Something was off.
Did he really leave?
Then, soundlessly, I felt a presence behind me, heavy and thick, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
I spun around, breath catching mid-turn.
And in front of me, he was standing tall. A dark coat cloaked his frame. Strands of dark hair fell loosely across his forehead, catching the light. And his face—damn it—his face, all harsh lines and cold beauty, looked like something they didn’t sculpt for men in recent centuries anymore.
One of his brows lifted lazily, his head tilting slightly, as if he was studying a peculiar creature that’d wandered into his world.
I swallowed. “Damn,” I pressed a hand to my chest, more for drama than necessity, and turned away from his eyes—those eyes that always left something fluttering and disoriented in my gut. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I’d be pleased,” he said, “if you told me you came for books. And not for him.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “How is that any of your business?”
I tried to move past him, but he shifted very fast. One arm came up and planted itself against the door beside me, blocking my exit and trapping me.
“Hey!”
I glared up sharply, but the moment our eyes locked, something punched through my chest, so hard I lost my breath.
A searing ache bloomed behind my ribs suddenly, pulling tight and tearing. I gasped, clutching my chest, strangled breath hitching like I couldn’t pull enough air in. Panic swirled fast and ugly.
My hand reached out towards him for balance, for help, for anything to anchor me. But before it could find his coat, he caught it in his own grip, gloved hand swallowing mine.
His eyes dropped to where I was clutching my chest, and something flickered there for a brief second. Then, without a word, he tugged me forward. Into him.
With one hand holding mine, his other arm came around me, banding strong across my back. His hand splayed wide, fingers pressing into my waist.
I froze. Entirely.
Not because of pain now.
But because of him. And what he just did.
From the way he held me—firm but not cruel. Protective but not gentle. From the contact. From the feel of him. From the terrifying, impossible realisation that he was hugging me...and I wasn’t running away from it.
The last time this happened, I’d been unconscious.
And now that I was fully awake, I still couldn’t move. Not even a little. Not even to pretend I didn’t like the way he felt so solid and hot and steady. My hands stayed where they were, useless beside me, my brain short-circuiting on repeat:
He’s hugging me. He’s hugging me.
The pain was already receding, melting away under the heat of his body pressed to mine. The heat—it was nearly unbearable. Radiating through my jacket, into my skin, into my bones.
He felt like he was on fire.
“You’re...you’re hot. You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
I pushed back. “You—”
“Don’t move.”
To my surprise, I stilled. “Why?”
He was quiet, then he let out a breath. “How much does it hurt?”
“What? My chest?” I asked, moving my head to look up at him. His gaze fell on my face and I nearly choked, still not used to having all his attention on me, especially while caged in his arms. “I’m going to see the doctor when I get out of here—”
“Not my question.”
I blinked, letting the rude interruption pass through me. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much.” I averted his gaze when it became too intense for me to hold.
I could be imagining it, but his grip tightened. “Don’t lie to me.”
I was about to stare straight into his eyes and tell him I wasn’t, but I saw the ground where my shadow stretched, and it hit me again that he didn’t have one. Abruptly, I pushed myself out of his space, so hard my back hit Weeny Man’s door, disturbing the doorbell inside.
Gosh, how could I forget he wasn’t...normal. I’d given into his arms naturally without thinking twice.
Looking at the ground, he saw what had made me act out but his expression didn’t shift a fraction. He only sighed like I was a poor thing afraid of nothing and began walking down the street.
Scowling, I marched after him. “My question for today—why don’t you have a shadow. You claim to be human but everyone has a shadow.”
“Really? Have you seen all of humanity?”
“The majority I’ve seen do.” I crossed my arms. “So why don’t you have one?”
“Because it was taken away.”
“By who?”
“Two questions.”
Speechless, I stammered in surprise. “What—what...I didn’t—that’s unfair. I didn’t even ask anything!”
“I don’t have a shadow because it was taken away,” he said simply.
“By whom? Of course you don’t have a shadow because it was taken away. You don’t just wake up on a random day of the week, bump your fucking head on the wall and your shadow starts running away from you,” I said in one breath.
He glanced back over his shoulder with a faint smirk. “Who said?”
What? I gave him the look.
“You haven’t had breakfast.”
“And you haven’t answered my question.”
His steps quickened, as if he couldn’t spend one more second with me, and I had to juggle between jogging and walking to keep up.
“Tomorrow.”
“That is another day for another question. Okay. At least tell me why you’re hot.”
“You think I’m hot?” There was a faint smugness in his voice.
Yes. “No, gods. Not hot-hot. Body temperature hot. Why did it feel like you were on fire a while ago.”
“Because the cold in Nimorran wants to kill me.”
I blinked. “What?”
He didn’t stop walking. “If you harbour ill intentions in Nimorran, you’ll freeze to death,” he said. “What I feel right now…it’s the kind of cold that would kill an ordinary human.” He glanced to the side but I knew it wasn’t to see how I’d react. “My body expels heat to fight it,” he added.
I stopped walling, staring at his back, at the dark coat gripping his shoulders, the gloves moulded to his hands. Every inch of him was covered, and still, he was burning from the inside out just to stay alive.
A twist coiled unpleasantly low in my gut.
“You’re not welcome here,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “I felt the cold too, but it’s gone. It let me in. You should be dead if you were an ordinary human. How long have you been here?”
He chuckled, the sound heavy and deep. And mocking. “The days or my intentions mean nothing. Nimorran doesn’t welcome me anyway.”
“Why is that?”
He glanced back again, his smirk lingering longer than I liked. “Too many questions.”
“Don’t think I’m walking into that house while knowing you harbour ill intentions.”
His pause was barely half a beat. “You prefer I carry you, hmm?”
I stopped walking and frowned. “I’m fucking serious. How are you not a normal human? Why is this town trying to drive you out? Do you know I don’t even sleep peacefully at night because I’m always on edge that you’re going to barge in and dig my heart out.”
He stopped and turned. “I plan on doing that to your heart. Digging it out and having it to myself.” He smirked. “But not literally.”
My breath escaped in one long, splintering sigh. I shoved my fingers through my hair, tugged hard enough to sting.
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I know.”
“Really? Because I don’t even know your name.”
“And if I tell you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “No more questions today and you’ll walk into that house and eat?”
I swallowed, darting my gaze to the sky. It made no sense that he cared if I had breakfast or not. But again, a win is a win. I cleared my throat. “Your full name.”
“First name.”
I rolled my eyes with a groan. It’d be hard to make a search with just his first name. “Fine.”
He closed the distance between us in two strides and leaned down to my height, a faint smile ghosting on his lips. “Thrax.”
My brows shot up. What?
“Th-rax,” he repeated slowly, as if savouring the syllables on his tongue. His dark eyes dropped to my lips, voice low enough to stir something shamefully physical. “Let me hear it.”
Thrax.
Thrax.
Thrax.
All of the fucking sudden, it was like I had a massive rock in my throat, making it hard to even swallow. I hated when all his attention was on me because I was incapable of holding or containing the sensation.
“No,” I breathed.
His brows twitched, one lifting in a question as his head tilted.