Chapter 13 Remiel
Chapter thirteen
Remiel
Greer’s skin pinkens as her pouty mouth drops open. My fingers twitch with the urge to pull her closer, to trace my thumb over her red-stained lips, then tip her chin up to gently shut it. Even if it does look pretty wide open, too.
“Ah, so you’re a Scrooge then. Bah! Humbug!” I say the words not only because they’re true but also to see her reaction. Especially after what she experienced with Kai last night.
“You know, just because someone doesn’t like Christmas doesn’t mean they’re a Scrooge,” she counters. Her response has heat to it, like a dragon protecting its pile of gold.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “No?”
Her mouth closes, and her lips press tight. Within the depths of her eyes, I see a flash of pain before her gaze hardens, and her aura pulses with a sharp red anger before it cools to its gray again.
I shouldn’t be happy that I saw the red, especially since my words were what angered her, but I am. It was a little test to see if Greer is letting her emotions break free as Kai suggested.
When he came home at sunrise, the three of us went over his time with her.
Our grace and our bond allow us to share visions, showing each other events as they happen or after the fact.
While Sam and I experienced the past alongside Kai last night, it’s always good to talk it through afterward so we can connect further with the human we’re helping.
The only thing we didn’t discuss was the kiss Kai and Greer shared. Kai didn’t bring it up, probably to avoid Sam chastising him, and I didn’t, either—at least, not yet. We’ll need to at some point.
However, Kai did mention the flash of passion he got from her, which had to have been from the kiss, as well as the pulses of anger at the experiences and not being able to wake up.
He also brought up her sadness—Greer had nearly shed tears during her first memory.
That was good, because it meant she allowed herself to feel the pain of that day before diving back into denial and indifference.
I’d even go so far as to say she felt remorse over her actions in some of those memories, specifically with her friend, Avery.
But without seeing and experiencing it firsthand, it’s hard to be sure.
What I am sure about, though, is that the cracks in her armor are there. It’s now my job to help expand them, to show her how to feel them without pushing them aside and building a wall to keep them in.
“Well?” I ask.
She huffs a breath. “No, I think a Scrooge is portrayed that way in the media, but a true Scrooge is a miser. Aren’t you British? Shouldn’t you know that?”
“Are you saying all British people know Charles Dickens?”
Her lips turn up into a smirk, her cheeks red from the sting of the cold and her spite toward me.
Not to mention, her attraction—there’s no way I could forget about our little run-in at the restaurant yesterday and how she watched me with Sam and Kai last night.
I may not have made eye contact with her, but I knew she was there.
I could feel her heated gaze on us, could sense her aura.
“You just jumped from Scrooge to Charles Dickens, so I’m going to gamble and say yes.”
“Big generalization,” I muse.
She places a hand on her round hip and cocks it along with one dark-red eyebrow. It’s attractive, and I think she knows that, too. “And all people who don’t like Christmas are Scrooges, then?”
I chuckle. “Touché.”
The singing of the carolers becomes softer as they move beyond the bakery and out of earshot.
Being the head guardian of this town, I can communicate with others mind to mind if they give permission, where Sam and Kai can only communicate with me.
I had let the singing Nephilim, who were playing the part of town carolers, know they were no longer needed and could leave.
Greer’s consuming gaze is still locked on mine as her shoulders visibly relax now that the singing is gone. It’s not unusual for someone who arrives here around this time of year to dislike Christmas, but like most things I’m discovering about Greer, she’s an extreme case.
I can understand it, given what I’ve seen of her past now. The holidays haven’t been kind to her in a long time. I can only hope that after she leaves here, she’ll make different choices and one day enjoy them again.
The thought of her leaving tightens my chest. I nearly frown as my hand moves to rub over my heart, but Greer’s voice stops me.
“I have to ask…” She pauses, her gaze narrowing. “Are you following me?”
I was wondering if she was going to bring up the fact we’ve seen each other before or if she’d be too embarrassed after last night.
She may not realize that I know she watched and very much enjoyed herself, but I do.
She also doesn’t know that I liked that she watched, that she was attracted to us enough to stay and get turned on.
It turns me on, too. And while I know I shouldn’t be thinking of a job in an intimate way, I can’t deny I am.
That I couldn’t rest or do much of anything last night other than wait for Kai to return.
I kept thinking about what the hunger we were all feeling meant and why Greer, beyond her gray aura and Scrooginess, is different from any human I’ve ever encountered.
Trust me, I’ve encountered many. While her aura is bleak, everything else about her is sharp and passionate.
She’s here for a reason, and I don’t believe it’s just to see her past, present, and future.
The conclusion I settled on while speaking with Sam and Kai is how I’m choosing to move forward.
I will do my job, show Greer the Present-Day Christmas this evening, but with everything else, I’m going to see where the chips fall.
Live in the present moment. One that has a beautiful woman staring at me, waiting for me to speak.
“I’m not following you,” I say, which is a partial lie. I’m not following her per se, but when I didn’t find her eating scones and drinking coffee in the dining area, I sought out her energy. It was easy to find, her gray and annoyed aura acting as a beacon.
“Did you get trapped here like I did, then?” she asks. By the building blush on her cheeks, I don’t think she believes that to be true given what she spied on last night. But I answer her anyway.
“No, I was in Garland for a bite to eat. But I live here—I own the inn, actually.”
Her blush burns brighter at the mention of the inn, and a visible shiver runs up her spine. She takes a second to collect herself and her thoughts before she speaks again. “Do you own the building as well?”
“I do.”
She hums. “What a coincidence. I’d actually love to talk to you about your business and the town.”
My eyebrows shoot up, wondering what she means by that. “You do?”
“Yes.” The moment she finishes speaking, her stomach growls loud enough that we both can hear it. I guess me and my Nephilim lovers aren’t the only ones feeling hungry.
I gesture with my hand toward the bakery. “How about we chat over tea and a bite to eat?”
“Make it coffee, and you have a deal.”
I smile warmly at her and nod. “Brilliant. After you, love.”
Greer’s discerning gaze darts around the seating area, her posture stiff and lips pursed.
“What is it?” I ask, picking up my teacup from the two-person table, a number for our order placed between us.
“This bakery is…”
I sip my English breakfast tea, the bitter flavor bursting across my tastebuds. “Is…?” I press after I swallow.
“Quaint.” She looks around. “And heavily decorated.”
I smirk over the cup before placing it on the saucer. The decor here is cozy, warm, and inviting. The walls are white, but holiday trim is everywhere to match the season. Plum-colored accents on the crown molding match the color of the booths and tables, really driving home the name of the bakery.
“You really don’t like Christmas, do you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Greer sips her latte, one she was very particular about, though I had a laugh that she asked for two pumps of peppermint in it.
While peppermint isn’t exclusive to the holidays, it is thought of as a holiday flavor.
It leads me to believe that I’m right in thinking that the part of Greer that believed in Santa and loved Christmas still exists. It’s just been buried for far too long.
“If I’m being honest, Christmas is another day of the year. And if I’m being really honest, I think it’s a time of year that most people hate but are unwilling to admit it.”
I lean back in my chair. “How so?”
She takes another sip of her drink before she leans forward.
Unlike yesterday, she’s not in a business suit.
Today, she’s wearing an expensive-looking cream-colored V-neck sweater that my heated imagination would love to feel rubbing against my chest paired with black pants that cling to her curves.
She’s still professional but slightly more casual.
“It’s so built up during the year. People save portions of their paychecks to buy their friends, family, and children gifts.
Then there are parties to host and attend, and god forbid you have to see family you don’t like.
It also impedes people’s work. Either they slack or don’t do anything at all. It’s annoying.”
I quirk my brow. “Is that all?”
She lets out a tight laugh. “I think it can also make those who are alone during the holidays feel even more lonely.”
I observe her features carefully. She picks her coffee back up and casts her eyes down as if she didn’t mean to say the last part.
“All your points are valid, Greer.”
Her eyes flutter to meet mine. “How do you know my name?”
My slow pulse quickens—that’s right, she hasn’t given me her name yet. “I heard it yesterday, when you introduced yourself to Holly.”
Her shoulders relax a bit. “Right. I didn’t know you heard that.”
“Would you like to know mine?”