Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“An honor,” I whispered, quietly shutting the door behind me.
I was unaware of what had happened in there; the heaviness in his eyes and the redness of his nail beds didn’t show up on their own.
Crossing the room, I crawled across the bed and leaned against the wall by his side.
We didn’t speak for a bit and that was fine. Sometimes silence feels better.
I didn’t grab his hand or comb my fingers through his hair, I only waited. And he began when he was ready.
He swallowed his nerves and the lump in his throat. “I can’t take it sometimes,” he choked out. “The Wraith talk. The work. The blood.”
I continued waiting in silence, letting him get it out.
“And now I can’t breathe, and I can’t look at my mom, and sometimes I don’t want to look at you because I did those things.” Laken’s words came out in gasps, scorched dry and brittle on his tongue.
I moved then, positioning myself between his legs on my knees as I cupped his face. Shaking my head, I whispered, “No.”
Laken wasn’t the type of person who talked about his insecurities, especially when they ran so deep they intertwined with his bones and veins and told him he was worse.
Laken would be the one to carry groceries home for a stranger.
To cut their grass in the sweltering sun.
To fix their house for free. To hold you when you needed to cry without asking why.
To love you despite you not deserving it.
The worst thing Laken Augustus ever did was see the good in me.
“How you feel about what you did is valid, Laken. I’m not telling you it’s not.
” My thumbs traced his cheeks. “But don’t you dare think it made you lesser of a person.
That it made you undeserving. There is a woman behind that door celebrating another year of love—because you gave that to her.
She is seeing her daughter get married because you gave that to her. She is alive because you saved her.”
If I wanted to protect one thing in my life, it had to be the selflessness of Laken’s heart. “And I am here because I care for you. That means something.” Laken, the boy who endured me. Laken, the boy who loved me when everything told him not to. Laken, the man who saved me.
“You know what I think about you? What I see? A man fierce with love, willing to give everything for those he cares about. I see the man who saved my ass more times than I can count. And if someone isn’t lucky enough to see that, that’s on them. You forget I know you, too, Laken Augustus.”
He didn’t say anything but wrapped his fingers around my wrist and kissed my palm. “I’d hope you know me; you’ve healed my wounded ass cheek. That bonded us.”
One little chuckle followed the other until I couldn’t smother it anymore. “Bonded by the buttocks.”
We sat for another minute or two, relishing each other’s company as we had many times before. Feeling Laken’s body near mine made my anxiety calmer, my breathing easier, and my mind less… crowded. It felt as if his love for me gave some peace of mind; it became a comfort zone.
After a while, his fingers spun their way around mine. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Ohhhh.” I shimmied. “I hope it’s a rich, widowed aunt with money to throw away like confetti.”
It was, indeed, not a rich aunt.
Laken opened his door, straight necked and chin high once again. “The Leader of the Wraiths.”
“What?” I attempted to yell in a whisper, stutter stepping at his heels.
We rounded the corner and the crowd came back into sight as their voices filled the room.
“They’re here?” What if I already accidentally met them?
“What should I call him? Dark Lord Master? Master Wraith? Lord of Death? Oh, what about Keeper of the Wraiths?” I deepened my voice.
I slammed into Laken’s back as he abruptly stopped. “Deklan Rivera. I was just looking for you.”
A voice came from in front of us. “Laken,” it said, deep and dark, bordering a growl—who the fuck actually sounded like that in real life? Stepping out from behind Laken, I got my answer.
A brooding man, no lesser sized than a tree trunk, aimed piercing gold eyes at me and I wanted to hide again.
Short, black, well-kept hair swooped over his head.
The slight stubble, stern grimace, and white scar running from his brow to his cheekbone made me wonder how many people had seen that as their last view before dying.
I mean, if the man wanted to, he could pass as a god or giant—some eternal, colossal being.
I might as well have been a child or a stray rat.
“There you are,” he said, and it clicked.
He’d be the morally gray badass warrior character in the book.
The kind you didn’t really like at first but learned to love their bad side and how they surprisingly did have a heart under their armor.
But tilting my head up to see him in person, I began second-guessing the love interest in the books I’d read.
“How peculiar that I was looking for you as well.” His eyes flickered to Laken.
“I hope it’s nothing too troubling.” Laken spoke lightly enough it calmed my pounding heart. He slapped Deklan on the back the weird way men do, bringing their hands in on their chest.
“And this must be Reece, the one Faye speaks so highly of.” Deklan offered a hand; unfortunately I snorted a laugh before taking it.
“I hope not too highly,” I joked. “I don’t like having to live up to expectations.”
“Well, I do hope you live up to some.” Deklan turned and nodded for us to follow him. “I have a job proposition—for both of you.”
Laken and I turned to one another, suspicious and confused.
Am I being secretly recruited? We followed Deklan out the back door to the yard.
Trees covered most of the area; branches threw shadows over the dark grass from where the moon’s light cast above.
Between leaves intertwined with each other, stars peeked out.
But behind it all, deeper into the woods, the wind creaked and cried.
Two others stood out here, older men with graying beards and receding hairlines. They paid us no attention.
“So,” Deklan started, standing like a mountain above me. “I hear you own a sanctuary for magical creatures?”
Me? Shit, he talked to me. “Oh,” I mumbled, “uh… yes. Yes. I do.”
“You got room for two more?”
My brows pinched. “Two more of what, exactly?”
The man, the beast of a man, chuckled and said, “Piggly wigglys.”
Pondering it, we did have another enclosure open at the end by Phoebe.
Piggly wigglys were pigs with giant tusks, wings, and claws—deadly if stumbled upon unarmed.
But they’re also quite popular for hunting and fighting other magical creatures due to their characteristics.
If not used for that, they’re often given over to homes for breeding once their tusks are removed and they’re declawed, all of which is prohibited due to the pain of the procedures.
These uses, of course, have caused them to become endangered.
Without their tusks and claws, they’re defenseless, unable to survive in the wild on their own.
“There’s two up for grabs in an underground auction the night after tomorrow.
” Tomorrow? “They’re young, not too dangerous.
Some authorities have reached out and want those pigs out of there; they don’t care where they’re rescued to as long as it’s safe.
” Why the hell would someone pay to have pigs rescued?
“Don’t ask me why someone is willing to pay to get those pigs out, but they are. ” Noted.
It’d never been proven, but rumors floated around out there about the benefits of magical creatures’ bones, blood, and such. Perhaps something had been proven.
Laken crossed his arms and shifted on his feet. “Where’s the auction? Security?”
“The Blackthorn Mansion…” Deklan continued, but it went in one ear and out the other for me.
I didn’t understand whatever language they were speaking; the information passed right over my head.
Underground auctions were news to me, though not surprising; poachers were always a threat.
“It’s the same group that has their eye on your place. ”
Oh. This just became very sickeningly real.
“How much payment are we talking here?”
My head snapped up.
Deklan smirked. “Forty-five hundred macs.”
Mother-clucker. Forty-five hundred macs for one job. Two pigs. Perfectly doable. Laken looked at me, but he already knew my answer. He knew I needed that money, but truthfully… I had to save those pigs.
“You want it or not?” Deklan’s voice sounded like whatever made the branches of the forest cry. Dark, smoky, and too intimidating for me. But Laken shook Deklan’s hand and sealed the deal. With that payment, we’d be pretty close to set.
They continued talking about whatever men talk about.
Once I recognized the comfort returning to Laken’s posture and tone, I made my way back into his house, where the food called my name.
Slipping between little group chats, I faked smiles and whispered, “Excuse me,” more times than I could count.
Most of the women around were Faye’s friends from the school and town—meaning they wore too much perfume, cared too much about appearances, and were as nosey as Goldie.
Luckily, I could be considered a professional expert at dodging conversations.
The crowd parted as I reached the kitchen—the gates to the almighty, if you would.
After-dinner parties were my favorite because it meant there’d be desserts.
Pies. Fruit salads. Tarts. Pastries. One thing about Faye Augustus, she’d go above and beyond for no good reason other than wanting to.
And I thanked the Gods for it as I gathered a sampler plate, as I call it—a bit of everything and a bit more of everything else.