Twenty-Two
Avalon
She loved watching Lysander braid her hair. He probably didn’t know it, but he had the most adorable face when he was focusing hard. The tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips, his nose scrunched and his brows furrowed. Once he deemed the braid appropriate, he handed her a small mirror to check for herself.
“I love it. Thank you.”
He blushed a precious cherry red, ducking out of her gaze to collect their towels. “Let me throw these in the washer and then I can grab everything from the car.”
Though when they entered the living room, the patio doors were wide open and all of the gardening supplies had been set out. While Varos handed her a glass of blood, Marcus read through the pamphlet attached to the rose bushes.
“Seems mildly simple,” Marcus announced as she sipped her blood and welcomed the soothing feeling sliding down her throat.
“The woman at the garden centre said these kinds of roses aren’t too delicate, that they’re good for beginners.”
Stepping closer, she saw all kinds of flowers and pots needing attention too. She should’ve known Lysander would go all out .
“You are upset I bought this much,” he stated.
“I’m just hoping I can keep them all alive. It’ll be such a waste otherwise.”
“We don’t see it like that. Spending time with you is priceless.”
“I know, I was just scolding myself for not expecting all of this—I should have learned from the clothes.”
She finished her glass and set it aside, going over the rose pamphlet with Lysander while Marcus brought the hose around. The evening sun warmed her skin as they prepped a spot in the garden for the roses. All three of them helped, but they didn’t crowd her. Getting her hands dirty was surprisingly satisfying, and she didn’t stop after the roses were planted. She moved on to the other flowers too, designating pots and homes on the porch for all of them.
Aside from the occasional piece of advice or a drink, the three of them left her to her task. Once the sun had set and she could see Lysander fall victim to fatigue, she followed them inside.
“You should go to sleep,” she told him, catching him suppressing a yawn.
“I was just waiting for you to finish. Would you like me to pick up a few more flowers tomorrow?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He came over and took her hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we enjoyed this.”
“Very much,” Marcus agreed from the couch.
“Would you like to take me up on my offer before I head to bed?”
She paused, unsure of what he was asking.
“That is Lysander’s way of politely asking you to drug him so he can sleep nice and cosy tonight,” Varos whispered as he took their dirty glasses to the sink.
Before she could worry her lip as she usually did, Lysander had her jaw in his fingers and tipped her gaze to find his. “I don’t want to use you like that.”
“It’s not using if both sides benefit from it.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, sweeping her up into his arms. She grabbed onto his shoulders for support and wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the couch and sat down next to Marcus. She always seemed to end up in one of their laps instead of her own seat—not that she was about to complain.
Lysander turned his head, lips finding hers in a soft, sweet kiss. She wound down his jaw and his neck, licking over the sensitive skin. Once she felt his pulse thread beneath his skin, she closed her eyes and sank her fangs into his flesh. His head tipped back, muscles rolling under her tongue while his life’s essence dripped down her throat like honey.
“You’re doing so well,” he purred, gently stroking her sides. “So gentle, so patient.”
She shuddered.
“You like that, little dove, don’t you?” Marcus hummed beside her. “Us praising you. Telling you how well you are doing.”
“Because you are, Avalon.” Varos pulled her name into a long, gorgeous melody. “You carry yourself with grace.”
Lysander wrapped her braid around his fist. “So brave and strong.”
Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body quivered, soaking up each sweet praise they offered her. Desperate to feel his skin against hers, she shoved her hands beneath Lysander’s shirt.
Varos’s hand slipped under her own, a single finger dancing over her spine. “You could have us on our knees with one glance of your pretty brown eyes, but you treat us so well.”
“Oh, you could have the world at your feet, sweet dove.” Marcus’s words were a serious offer, though she’d never take advantage of that .
“We would do anything for you.”
“Lysander is right.” Marcus’s hand now teased up her thigh. “Nothing is out of your reach. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
Though she could’ve fed more, she sealed over her wounds, not wanting to drain Lysander completely. “Can I creep on you while you sleep?”
“If that makes you happy.”
She shrugged. “It’s relaxing.”
“Very well. Go find yourself a book and meet me in my room.”
“The one thing we can’t give her,” Marcus pouted, though his eyes sparkled.
“I hate to disappoint you, Marcus, but Lysander has many more things to give her that we can’t.”
“You had to ruin the moment didn’t you, Varos?”
She stood, cheeks aching from the smile on her face. She grabbed her book, then felt Lysander’s looming presence behind her on the way to his room. There he closed the curtains, the covers already pulled back for her.
“Do you have a favourite side you sleep on?”
“Not particularly.”
She chose the one closest to the door, hoping not to wake him if she moved.
“Is this an exclusive party?” Marcus had appeared in the doorway.
Lysander settled under the blankets, eyes stern on his friend. “If you start cuddling me, I will unleash my lycan with no regrets.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Marcus sauntered over to the bed. “You’re not my type.”
“Behave, boys.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they both agreed in unison.
While Lysander curled up beside her, Marcus laid his head in her lap and closed his eyes. She reached for Lysander just as she had before, then paused. “I can’t stroke you both. ”
“You can scratch Lysander’s ear until he falls asleep,” Marcus offered. “After that your attention is all mine.”
Lysander rolled his eyes and pushed his arms under his pillow to get comfortable. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the root. She’d read somewhere that it was quite therapeutic. Marcus had turned in her lap, laying on his side and skimming his hand over her thigh. She opened her book and lost herself between the pages.
Sometime later, a tug on her wrist made her look up. Lysander was fast asleep and Varos had crept in, sitting in a chair to the side of the bed, deeply involved in a book of his own. Careful not to wake Lysander, she shifted her hand to give Marcus the same treatment. His lips curled up, humming a satisfied sigh as he basked in her touch.
She noticed that she was reading much faster than normal. Though it didn’t dampen the experience, she was flying through the pages. Her brain seemed to be working faster, but perhaps it was because she already knew the story. After a while, Varos shifted and caught her attention. He quietly left and returned a few moments later with a glass for her. Though she knew she needed it—had been suppressing the pain in her throat for a while—she scrunched her nose.
He took the book out of her hand and replaced it with the glass. While she sipped on it, he perched on the edge of the mattress and silently praised her with soft touches and gentle kisses.
The evening went on like this, Marcus soaking in her every touch, Lysander slumbering peacefully next to her, while Varos read his own book and took care of her. It was an odd feeling to be able to sit completely still for hours. Her legs didn’t fall asleep, nor did she feel the need to stand and stretch. Her arms didn’t even get tired.
Lysander woke late the next morning, stretching beneath the blankets as he sought her out. He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes, hair standing up in all directions.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Marcus snorted and Varos grinned. “I believe you are the only one who has ever called him a princess and been allowed to live.”
“I thought her name was Aurora?”
Lysander shook his head and stood.
“Are you going to work today?” Ava asked him.
“No, but I will still go get more gardening supplies for you.”
“Can we make breakfast together?”
Lysander looked over his shoulder, giving her a wide smile as he nodded.
Delighted, she jumped out of bed and sped to the kitchen with the other two men on her heels. She’d never had someone to cook with. Troy had always thought it was beneath him. She had cooked with her mother as a child, but it felt special to stand next to Lysander and help him prep his meal—more intimate. Here and there they shared loving touches, with Marcus sitting on the counter and Varos watching from afar.
“Would you like me to pick up anything else while I’m out?” Lysander asked after his meal.
“I can’t think of anything.”
“What about paint supplies?” Varos suggested.
“Maybe a few fresh canvases,” she agreed, “but I still have enough paints for now.”
“Even for Varos and I to join you?” Marcus mused.
“Why was I left out of the equation,” Lysander groused, lip poked out in an adorable pout.
“Maybe because you didn’t want to come with us last time,” she giggled, reaching out to touch him. “Maybe Marcus is right. Wait here. I’ll show you the ones I like.”
“It would be nice to know your favourite store as well,” Lysander told her as she left the room.
When she returned Marcus had also put on his shoes. “You’re leaving?”
“Don’t look so worried, little dove. Varos will look after you.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I think you are doing a fantastic job,” Marcus assured her, pulling her close. “You are going to do wonderfully.”
“What if—”
“No what ifs, little dove. Varos will keep you company while Lysander and I go out and grab everything your little heart could desire.”
She didn’t like the idea, but clearly they were confident enough in her. “Please don’t stay gone for too long.”
Lysander leaned down and kissed her hair. “We’ll be back before you even know it.”
Then they were gone and she was all alone with Varos.
“I’m sorry. I… It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but what if I…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“I never thought I’d say these words but Marcus is right: you’re doing well. There is no need to worry. Do you have anything in mind that you would like to do while they’re gone?”
“What is something you enjoy doing?”
“Ah, now I might have to show you my latest embarrassing hobby.”
“Why is it embarrassing? Is Marcus making fun of you? Because that’s not nice and I could have a talk with him.”
Varos took her hand in his and walked her down the hallway. “We enjoy teasing each other.”
“But if he makes you feel bad you need to set boundaries,” she insisted.
“I do love the concern you show for me, but there is no need.”
Before she stepped into his room she paused in the doorway. She hadn’t seen his space yet, and she wanted to take her time absorbing the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast a bright light over the room, pulling her attention to the garden and the rose bushes she’d just planted. The furniture was made of a light grain wood and unlike Marcus, he’d decided against a bed, leaving the space wide open. A desk sat against one wall, decorated by antique sculptures on a shelf just above it. A long table sat in the middle, scattered with thousands of tiny puzzle pieces.
She stepped up to the table, running her hand across the edge. Varos had sorted the pieces into colours and had started to fiddle together the edges. “It’s huge.”
“I started with small ones, but then Marcus bought this as a joke. I think he had it custom made.”
“And now you’re going to finish it to prove a point.”
“It has me in a chokehold,” Varos chuckled and leaned over the table, putting a stray piece into its correct pile.
“Would you like some help?”
“I would enjoy that very much.”
“Do you have a picture of what it’s supposed to look like?”
He pointed at his desk, where she saw a picture of a beautiful landscape. When she turned back, her heart melted. Varos was already long lost in the pieces before him. She chose the seat directly across from him and started to help him search for the edges.
“Marcus won’t tell me how old he is. But would you be open to share some of your past?”
“What would you like to know, sweet dove?”
“Maybe how you grew up? Or how you turned?”
“I was a bastard,” Varos offered freely. “A child born out of wedlock. My father was of royal blood, so my mother hid me for fear that I would be killed. She was a whore, but it kept us alive and fed. Once I was of age, I found work with a farmer and left her. The cities were crowded and with the fear my mother seeded in me, I left and never looked back.”
Varos spoke almost clinically, leaving out smaller details—like who “us” was—but she didn’t pry. When Lysander had opened up, he’d seemed upset. Maybe this was Varos sharing with her but not enough to open old wounds.
“Life was hard then, sicknesses not easily cured and living conditions terrible, but the people looked out for each other more than nowadays—at least in my village. One day, I was sent back to the big city to sell our harvest. On my way there, I met my maker. He didn’t think I would survive but when I did he thought it was amusing to keep me in the dark on what he’d done to me. I fed and killed, losing myself in the blood rush. When I came down from the high and saw the carnage I left behind, it nearly killed me—mentally, as it was. I denied myself blood and kept myself weak. That’s how the lycans caught me. I hadn’t known about them but they kept me from killing, so I willingly let them imprison me.”
She stared at him, the puzzle long forgotten.
“I never had any desire to go back. Even after Lysander freed us. I couldn’t face what I had done, couldn’t confirm my suspicions.” His eyes met hers, pooling with red as a single bloody tear ran down his cheek. “I would never let that happen to you. I would never let you give into your urges, never put you in a position to lose your humanity unwillingly. Though, if you ever choose to do it willingly, I promise with my life that I will remain by your side.”