Chapter Fifteen Wren
Chapter Fifteen
Wren
It is said that the Fates are sisters, though they have never confirmed this. All they have confirmed is that they were born together and if the time comes, they will leave this realm together.
—Origin of the Fates, Chapter Three
If I’d been made to flirt with the attendant for one more minute I would’ve lost my mind.
Thank the Fates Damien arrived at the doors when he did. The attendant had brought up the titillating subject of which of Andalay’s finest restaurants were the best, and I suspected he was working his way to asking if I’d like to join him for a meal.
Which might’ve been awkward, as No would have been my answer.
As he talked, icy shivers of awareness raced down my back.
It had been hair-raising knowing Damien was there, standing just out of sight, invisible.
Those chills spread from my shoulders to the tips of my fingers, the fine hair on my arms raised.
It might have been mere chance that I glanced over at the doors when I did, sensing a presence.
Sensing him. His weight. It sounded silly even thinking about it, trying to explain how I felt his spirit surround me like a shawl, my pulse hammering as it often did when he stood feet away.
From the corner of my eye, the double doors opened a smidge, just enough for a body to slip through before they closed. Damien and the burden of his spirit vanished, leaving me bereft. I prayed he’d gotten whatever he sought in the back rooms.
After making an excuse about the time and missing an appointment at the modiste with my sister, I scurried away, leaving the attendant with two cups of steaming tea. I felt guilty for leading him on and abandoning him. Fates, I hadn’t even remembered his name, but there were bigger things at hand.
Pushing the doors open, I smiled as the crisp breeze grazed my cheeks, the colder air welcome after being cooped up in the stuffy lobby.
Practically skipping down the steps in my haste to catch up to the thief, I avoided the stares of some serious-looking businessmen grumbling about taxes.
Eyes set on the alley we’d found refuge in before, I lowered my chin and shot across the street, doing my best not to recall how Damien had touched me so tenderly. Where I let him touch me.
No. It was a means to an end. To save yourself from being recognized.
I nodded to myself like a fool, yet the notion brought me a semblance of comfort. Damien was appealing because he didn’t speak to me like any gentleman I’d met. It was the newness of it all, meeting someone who didn’t play a game to win my favor—and in turn, my father’s.
A hand snagged my forearm and spun me around. I startled before taking in Damien’s smirking face, his body covered in shadows. It made his expression all the more sinister.
“You just never learn,” I griped, eyeing my wrist before pulling away.
“I hate surprises.” I had ever since Callie started planning my birthdays, going to extremes to catch me off guard.
Callie would smile her Cheshire cat grin and force me to socialize with the ladies she’d gathered.
I didn’t mind the sweet cakes, however. Those, she could continue to provide.
“Not my fault you’re so easily startled.” Damien shrugged, but I noted that while he smiled, his eyes were dull. Less intense, that playful spark gone.
“I’m not easily startled, you were just lurking in the shadows like a wraith.”
“Lurking?” He scoffed at the word. “I don’t lurk. I’m just more aware of my surroundings and would prefer not to be seen.”
I didn’t say he was right. That I should be more aware as well. I’d die on a metaphorical sword before I allowed him to wrench the words You’re right from my lips.
I could murder him later. Besides, there were too many witnesses.
“Agree to disagree,” I said, hurrying to ask, “What did you find?” I rubbed at my exposed skin, the air growing bitter.
“Flirting with that attendant took considerable effort. He enjoys speaking about his immense appreciation for model ships.” I recalled my straining smile as I’d listened to him go into extensive detail about his hobby.
“Oof. Sounds like a charmer,” Damien said, scanning the busy street.
“But you’ll have to be a little patient, sunshine.
I’ll show you my finds somewhere safe.” He gnawed at his cheek as if considering, his stare piercing me like a blade.
Seconds ticked by before he said, “We’ll go to my place.
No one will bother us there.” My muscles locked up at the mention of his place—wherever that was.
Alone. With him. Unaware of my apprehension, he continued.
“I bet any person who sees us is wondering what Cameron Hayes’s daughter is doing talking to me in some dank alley, and attention is the last thing we need. Make your decision.”
He was right. Still, the idea of going back to his room…
You’ve got your weapon. You’ve got your wits. I’d shown him in the Lovetts’ garden that I wasn’t one to be trifled with. I could handle this trivial detour.
“Fine,” I relented. “Lead the way.”
Damien held none of the airs of a gentleman.
He didn’t lift an elbow to escort me or place his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the congested areas.
I faced his back, his muscular build moving with ease through the throngs of people going about their day.
To anyone else, we might not appear to be together at all.
Which worked well in our favor, whether or not his lack of concern secretly chafed.
Or you’re upset because he effortlessly brushed you aside after he touched you. He had no idea that the moment had been foreign to me; he’d been the first to touch me in that way. Ever.
The first to make me feel things I hadn’t before—not that I wanted to feel anything at all with anyone. It was a bonus that he was a criminal.
Just my luck.
I bit the inside of my cheek, dispelling the notions of feelings and other ridiculous things from my brain immediately.
I was Wren Hayes, and once I got my magic, I’d leave this place.
I’d explore the continent. Go to the west and see the palace and the king and queen.
I would live life the way I desired, and I planned on remedying years of repression.
Even if I had to do so by running away from my family.
Life was too short to stay in one place.
Before long, the hordes of people dispersed, the cobblestones beneath my shoes growing worn. We stood at the invisible line separating the northern and southern sides, the plumes of gray smoke akin to storm clouds warning others not to pass.
Damien slowed his walk, adopting a casual gait, the Void stretching on either side like an open mouth swallowing him. My boot scraped the back of his heel, his body acting as a human shield. He shot me a look over his shoulder but continued onward, the muscles in his neck stiff.
“Stay close to me,” Damien whispered into the wind. He sounded almost…worried.
I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter against me. Keeping my focus on Damien and his ominous words, I didn’t argue with him, not when I could practically feel the heat of eyes on me. People could spot an outsider easily, and my pulse thudded in my throat.
A shrill whistle sounded, and without thought, I lifted my head to look.
I shouldn’t have.
“Whatcha doin’ over on this side of the city?” a man cooed, his hooded eyes narrowed on me. “Not that I mind.” He laughed, elbowing his three mates. He wore the garb of a dockworker and grasped a half-empty bottle of what I assumed to be liquor.
“Maybe she’s looking for some trouble,” a second one added, stepping forward, his towering height and strapping physique causing my insides to knot up. My grip on my cloak had turned my knuckles white.
The way his stare roamed the parts of my body not covered by the cloak sent alarm bells ringing in my head. I immediately stepped closer to Damien, my body brushing his back. I resisted grasping his arm.
Damien slowed to a stop as they continued whistling and shouting lewd terms and seedy promises that reeked of threat.
A chill blasted through the air when Damien turned his head, focusing his attention on the men. All I could see was his profile, but his features darkened into something I didn’t recognize, something dangerous. This time, I did grab his arm.
“The only trouble she’s looking for is me,” Damien announced loudly, confidently, scanning the group. His voice held notes of warning, and I leaned into him farther, my body taut enough to snap. “I’d suggest you remember that.”
I swallowed thickly at his declaration, at the way his words had become weapons all by themselves. So sharp. Cutting.
The leader of the group peered more closely at him before a look of recognition softened his cruel lips. He held up his hands in a placating manner. “Oh, it’s you!” He grinned. “Sorry, Ghost. Didn’t realize she was your girl.”
Your girl.
Absolutely not. But I wasn’t about to correct him.
Damien nodded stiffly in reply. Tugging me against his solid chest, he slung an arm around my waist. His fingers dug into my dress, showing the nerves he tried to disguise with his scowl.
“Ghost?” I whispered, but he just rolled his eyes, continuing our walk. I stumbled a few times, my footing unsteady after the encounter. Damien simply paused until I regained my balance, surprisingly patient.
That hand. It burned through the flimsy fabric, his long, lean fingers pressing into me whenever a lecherous gaze descended upon me. We were as close as we’d been in the alley, though his hold on me remained unyielding, like he feared I’d drift away should he loosen his grip.
I couldn’t see Damien’s face, not unless I chose to turn and watch him—which I didn’t—but whatever the offenders saw had them quickly averting their eyes. As much as I hated to admit it, the act made me feel safe…and another word I wouldn’t name.
That was when it hit me—
People respected Damien.