Chapter 9
Beck
Heart still racing and unable to sleep after being on the phone with Eleanor again tonight, I shrug on a shirt and head out my door.
My dragon wakes up from his slumber and turns his head eagerly toward the moon, gently pushing me toward the gleaming silver light dancing on the ripples of the dark ocean.
Sorry, not now. I need to think. Maybe tomorrow we can go for a swim again, I promise him vaguely, not really in the mood to get in the water this late. My dragon huffs in protest, but doesn’t argue, just turns his back on me and curls up in a far corner of my chest.
Stars blink at me from above as I follow the coastline down toward the east. Darkened cottages peek out between the hills, their inhabitants most likely blissfully asleep by now. The entire island is quiet except for the muffled thuds of my long strides as my mind wrestles with my heart.
Since Eleanor reentered my life, I’ve been happier than I’ve ever been before—including when we were kids.
I constantly hunger for more time with her, more everything with her, but I don’t know how to go about it or if I’m being too greedy.
All I know is that she consumes my thoughts all day and all night, my dreams now too.
Even when she’s not around, I can hear her laughter.
The sweet cadence of her voice is ingrained in my memory like a favorite song.
When I close my eyes, her face appears on my darkened lids, her striking red hair luring me closer, my fingers itching to card through her long locks, tilt her face up to mine and finally press my lips to hers like I’ve been longing to do.
But I’m nervous, more nervous than I’ve been about anything else. What if I scare Eleanor off if I reveal the direction that my feelings have gone? It’s wonderful being her friend, but I want more. So much more with her. But I simply can’t lose her again. I don’t think I’d survive that.
The distant rumbling of male voices has me searching the horizon for their source, and my dragon opens a sleepy eye to help me determine if they’re friend or foe.
Nostrils flaring, we quickly sniff the air to pinpoint their location and identities, relaxing again once we recognize Arran and Bodin’s familiar scents.
My dragon stretches his long, serpentine body, yawning languidly before curling up into a tight ball again and drifting off to sleep, while I continue forward to join my friends.
I lengthen my strides as Bodin lifts a hand in greeting, beckoning me closer to where he’s sitting with Arran on the front steps of the vampire’s castle.
“Beck. You’re out late,” Bodin says, patting a spot next to him.
I shrug and keep standing, unable to sit while my mind is still preoccupied. “I could say the same about you.”
“It seems as if my home has become some type of refuge for wayward creatures tonight,” Arran says, hardly looking up as he continues tinkering with something small in his hands.
A sly smile pulls at Bodin’s mouth, which I recognize as a sign of teasing to come, but thankfully not in my direction this time.
“You know, that isn’t a bad idea,” Bodin drawls. “Your castle is big, and I imagine a little lonely too. You could consider opening your doors to host some creatures.”
“Foolish talk,” Arran mumbles, shooting a severe frown Bodin’s way.
As Starry Hill’s founder and longest resident, Arran mostly keeps to himself, only coming out after sunset to gather his much-needed blood bags from The Bandaged Heart before returning to the castle he built with his own hands.
I don’t know how long it’s been since he’s fed directly from a source, but I do frequent trips to the blood bank in the city to ensure he has an adequate supply that’ll keep him nourished.
When he joined our boys’ night on the beach many months ago, and taught us log-throwing techniques, we were all pleased to get to know a new side of him.
I initially didn’t expect him to accept my invitation to join our Knights and Castles game, but I’m really enjoying his company and have come to think of him as a friend.
Gesturing at the object in Arran’s hands, I ask, “What are you making?”
“Dice.”
Arran hands me the d20 die and I hold it up to the moonlight to see the details more clearly. It’s completely hand-carved, the edges sanded smooth with numbers engraved into each side. It’s from the same sandstone his castle is made of and must’ve taken ages to create.
Turning the die over in my hand, I gawp at his fine handiwork. “This is amazing. How long did it take you to carve this?”
“This one, not that long. I borrowed your die that first game night so I could sketch out the design before trying my hand at making my own. This is the fourth one I’ve made.”
“Fourth?” Bodin asks, sounding just as astonished as me as he takes the die and studies it just as closely as I had.
Arran rubs a hand over his cropped hair. “Aye, a little memento for each of us. Thought it might be nice to have something to commemorate our game nights. Besides, there’s not much to do when you’re awake while the rest of the island sleeps. Except for you two tonight, that is.”
“But you have sunscreen now. You can go out anytime of the day and do other stuff,” I point out logically.
Arran gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Old habits and all that.”
“Change could be good for you,” Bodin suggests, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he gives both me and Arran very loaded looks.
I don’t know why he wants to include me in that statement, so I ignore the implication, choosing to direct the conversation toward something more important.
“If you’re up for change, maybe you’ll finally let us install power for your castle?
” Out of all the homes and shops on Starry Hill, Arran’s is the only one that doesn’t have electricity, despite Bodin and me offering to bring him into the present century numerous times.
Arran waves a dismissive hand and scoffs, “I have gone without modern luxuries or any kinds of technology for over four hundred years. I don’t foresee myself developing a sudden need now, or at any point within the next four hundred.”
Not seeing how I can argue with that line of thinking, I point my chin toward Bodin. “Why are you here? I thought you hardly ever leave Tilly’s side.”
“I’d also like to know,” Arran says. “You hadn’t said a word until Beck arrived, simply sagged onto the step beside me in grumpy silence.”
Bodin runs his fingers through his beard and mumbles, “Uhm… Tilly said she needed some space, so I came to hang out with Arran until she’s asleep.”
“What did you do?” Arran asks, sounding like he’s ready to go to war on Tilly’s behalf. Tilly has done so much for Starry Hill, it’s no wonder he’s feeling protective of his closest neighbor.
“She says I’m fussing too much.” Bodin hardly moves his lips while speaking, but we can still make out the words.
“Are you?” I ask, fairly certain Tilly wouldn’t kick him out for no reason.
“Maybe,” Bodin admits with a heavy sigh.
When he doesn’t elaborate, Arran asks, “Why?”
Bodin squares his shoulders and looks us in the eye. “Just trying to keep her safe. As always.”
Sensing there’s more to it, I ask, “Because of the baby?”
Arran swings his head toward Bodin. “The what?”
Bodin’s eyes widen to saucers. “How did you know?”
I tap my nose. “You smell different. You always smell a little like Tilly, but her scent has shifted lately. It’s sweeter.
” All pregnant creatures have a distinctly different scent, as if signaling to everyone that there is a baby within their womb.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who has noticed this.
“You stopped drinking at game night,” Arran remarks, slapping Bodin on the shoulder. “Congratulations. It’s one of the signs of a good father, how you put the mother of your unborn child first with small actions.”
Bodin rubs two hands down his face before clutching the back of his neck with both. “Fuck. I didn’t realize it was that obvious. Tilly didn’t want to tell anyone yet, but if you guys know, then I guess most of the island knows.”
I nod and finally take a seat on Bodin’s other side. “I’m certain they do.”
For the first time, a smile pulls at the corner of Arran’s mouth. “Like when we all pretended we didn’t know you two were dating and fucking all over the island?”
Bodin huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, let’s go back to pretending you don’t know anything. At least until I’ve come up with a tactful way to convince Tilly to tell everyone soon.”
Just when I thought our conversation was done and we can quietly enjoy the sound of waves crashing against the rock below, Arran asks me, “How’s your dragon?”
“What do you mean?” Even though he’s asleep, I can feel my dragon narrowing his eyes at me.
Arran rolls the die between his fingers, focusing on the motion as he speaks instead of the shiver of scales sweeping down my spine and along my arms. “I’ve noticed your dragon has made himself more apparent as of late.
Especially when you mention Eleanor. I know you’re not always in agreement with him, so I’m curious as to what your relationship is like these days. ”
I sigh and hold out my arm, watching my scales shimmer in the full moon’s silvery light.
“It’s been getting harder to suppress him.
He’s been awake more often, especially when she’s around, and wants to have his feelings heard too.
Maybe I should look into getting a glamour ring so the scales won’t be that noticeable? ”
“No,” Arran says, the word sharp and definitive. “Your dragon would hate that. You’ve suppressed him most of your life, bar the few times you give him the freedom to stretch his legs in the ocean. Pushing him down when he’s trying harder to be heard would put you at even greater odds.”
Now fully awake, my dragon raises his head to follow the conversation.
“So, what? I should just embrace him and walk around with scales all the time? What if my horns appear too?” I flash back to waking up in bed as a child, covered in scales, long horns protruding from my head, as my screams summon my grandmother to find me wholly transformed.
It’s a memory that hasn’t surfaced in many years, but since Eleanor’s been back, it haunts me often.
She deserves to know the whole story, no matter how painful it is for me to relive it.
Unaware of the current turmoil in my head, Bodin offers gently, “Horns aren’t the worst thing in the world.” The thought makes me think of Ren and how cool his horns look. Maisie doesn’t seem to mind them. Could I hope that Eleanor would accept mine too?
“Does your dragon like Eleanor?” Arran asks, his brows furrowed contemplatively.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, he really does. He’s been more communicative with his feelings lately. My scales appear anytime we’re worried or happy about anything related to her.”
Bodin clasps a hand on my shoulder. “Beck, do you like Eleanor? Like ‘big romantic feelings’ like her?”
This time, the answer comes easily, and with it, a hefty boulder falls off my shoulders and rolls into the sea.
“Yeah, I do.” It’s oddly liberating to share with my friends feelings I’ve been wrestling alone with for some time.
“It started out as reconnecting as friends. I didn’t expect anything more to develop, but my feelings have been slowly building with each afternoon spent together, each boat ride, each phone call.
” My mouth tugs up at the corners as I hold my hands out to describe the analogy that’s playing in my mind.
“It’s like our friendship when we were kids was a tiny foundation, but as adults we’ve built on to that, one brick of conversation at a time.
The walls around us are growing strong, and lately, we’ve added windows too.
But I want more. I want a roof. A home. A relationship. I want Eleanor to be mine.”
Arran clasps his hands together and stands up, turning toward us with more animation in his eyes than I’ve witnessed from him until now.
“You know what you need to do? You need to enter into a courtship with this girl if you’d like to win her heart.
Prove to Eleanor that you’re worthy of her affection. ”
Confused, I glance at Bodin who looks rather entertained. “Courtship?”
“Aye,” Arran states confidently. “It shows intention and requires thoughtful planning and consideration designed for your female in particular. I’ve seen it work. Most of the time.”
Liking the sound of that, I lean forward and ask, “How do I do that?”
Bodin rubs his hands together eagerly as he stands up.
“I can give you a couple of tips about things that worked for me. Though if all of us put our heads together, we can come up with a foolproof plan. But let’s do that in the morning.
I need to go home and check on my pregnant wife.
Fuck, that feels good to say out loud.” Heading away from us at a brisk jog, Bodin calls over his shoulder, “Let’s meet at Ren’s cottage after breakfast. I know he’ll have some really good ideas too. ”