Chapter 22
Kier was strolling past the witch’s alcove, the scent of her strong and permanent in his lair, constantly tantalising, and he peeked inside.
She should still be asleep, considering it was early morning, yet she knelt on her bedding, clasping the new gift he’d left for her. His spiked brows drew together when she had a wistful, forlorn expression on her face, her eyes misted as she brushed her thumb along the delicate tines.
Gold sparkled in her hand, as did the circular red gem in the middle of an elegantly etched handle.
He stepped closer without encroaching too deeply on her space – despite the fact that he’d been in it countless times while she lay asleep and unaware.
Admittedly, he often lingered when he probably shouldn’t have after laying down his offerings.
He also had, on the odd occasion, brushed back a stray curl from her cheek or one that had tangled playfully with her lashes.
His chest had often felt heavy when doing so, and each time seemed to strangle him tighter as he peered upon her angelic face.
At the wistful expression she wore now, he asked, “You don’t like it?”
Clutching his gift to her chest, Carwyn belted out a squeal. Kier winced when it crackled in his sensitive ears.
“You scared the daylights out of me!”
“Blasted,” he grunted out, scratching the side of his head where his ear hole was. “At this rate, she will deafen me.”
Hah! She will be the deafen of me!
He’d been subjected to multiple earfuls only a few hours ago, but at least his own panic for her well-being at the time hadn’t allowed him to register it.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, grumbling as she looked down at her palms and what they clasped. Her lips tightened before she lifted a surly gaze to him. “I said no more gifts.”
He lifted his eyes away coyly. “I made no promises.”
“Kier,” she whined, tilting her head until it rested on her shoulder in annoyance.
“At least it’s not a garment?” he offered, peeking at it.
“No, it’s much worse.”
“How so? It’s small enough to hide on your person.”
She brought her gaze down to it once more. “Because it’s beautiful.” She ran her thumb along the tines once more. “I’ve always wanted a comb like this.”
His lips pulled back into a wide grin. Excellent, she likes it.
She threw it onto the bedding. “I don’t want it.”
His expression fell, her rejection like a punch to the chest. “Why not?”
“Give it to someone else, just not me.” She lowered her head. “The garments... I understood. But this? All it does is confuse me.”
Kier growled, growing rather infuriated with her constant rejection of his offerings. I don’t understand. She is a female. They like such things. She even said so herself.
Why wouldn’t she accept any of them bar a single warm, simple gown and comfortable shoes? Well, and her bath, but she’d requested that in exchange for him ceasing this, and he refused.
I want her to accept them. It was aggravating that she wouldn’t. I want to see her wear and use things I give her.
“I don’t understand why it would confuse you,” he bit out, shaking his head as he licked the inside of his maw in agitation. He had half a mind to go over there and stab it into the top of her braid, forcing her to wear it so she might accept it.
“Pretty things are for women you deem pretty. That is something you gift a woman to court her. I don’t want it as a mere apology.”
Kier went silent.
He stared at her, knowing full well it wasn’t an innocent or platonic gesture. He’d had intent when laying that upon the bedding next to her for her to find this morning.
A gift from the heart, just like her request to hold his paw last night. Only for her scent to saturate with desire at such a simple gesture.
Unless he’d been wrong and it didn’t have a deeper meaning. Maybe she hadn’t reached out to him because he was a place of security and comfort, but because she’d needed anything to embrace her after being racked with pain. Her scent could have shifted due to reasons other than wanting him.
“It’s not an apology,” he admitted seriously.
Her lips parted as she darted her face towards him. “What?” she rasped.
“It’s not an apology for your hurt last night.”
He thought she’d ask for clarity, maybe even give him insight into her own feelings. Instead her brows creased deeply with anguish before she threw her face into her hands.
“Leave me be,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.
“Carwyn?” he asked, lowering his head to her level to appear less daunting as he stepped a little closer.
“Please. I have much to think on.”
Conflicted, Kier stepped back to give her the space she sought. Perhaps I was wrong. He’d smelt desire in her scent when he’d held her. It’d been sweet and clutched at his belly, his groin, radiating satisfaction through him.
Perhaps he’d misread her. She was different to him, and he only had his own kind to go off. Even then, dragonesses were fickle creatures.
Just as he took another step and was about to turn away, he caught the subtle bloom of her arousal, and he paused. Tilting his head, he squinted his eyes, puzzled as to why he could scent it when he thought she was about to cry.
That was until he realised her ears were redder than normal.
He made himself turn away.
Or, rather, he hid himself with an illusion as he made a version of himself slip from view. He even added the thumps of his paws leaving, and she spread open her fingers to peek through the gaps to check that he’d really left – just as his tail would have slipped away.
At least she believed he did.
Kier should’ve probably felt guilt that he was deceiving her, but he’d never been one to care for such things in the past. He was devious by nature, as were most with his special abilities, and he’d eavesdropped and been witness to many things others hadn’t wanted him to be.
His king had even used him to gain such information, and that was something he’d done for many years before succumbing to the longing to be entirely solitary.
No one had trusted him, thinking he’d heard all their secrets.
He’d hated their worried glances, how it’d made him an outcast. Crowds had begun to further injure his bruised heart, even more so when the high-pitched giggles he’d heard had often cut deeper than he liked.
Carwyn waited for an extended period, staring at what she believed to be an empty entryway, worried he’d return.
When she deemed it long enough, she dived for the comb, falling onto the bedding on her front with kicking legs. Smiling brightly, cheeks a cute pink, she marvelled at it. Her eyes went soft as she pushed up to kneeling and played with the tines of it as though it was a tiny harp.
Her expression grew tender in a way that stole a little of him.
“Does this mean he likes me, even if only a little?” she whispered so softly it didn’t leave the alcove.
His own gaze grew anguished. Yes, little witch. It does.
Although her eyes remained soft, her smile shifted. Like before, it became forlorn.
“What a pity that is.” Her words incited a trickle of coldness in his warmed chest. “Nothing will ever happen between us.”
That coldness evaporated as the flames of anger ignited like an inferno. Blasted. To hell it won’t. He had to hold in his bubbling growl, rejecting such a notion.
I’ll have you, witch – even if I must take the leap first. Even if he had to spear through his own doubts and uncertainties.
She thumbed the ruby gem in silent contemplation.
Carwyn placed the comb on top of the pile of garments she had yet to wear, with the intention of abandoning it. She longed to keep it, but she couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
Whatever feelings he may harbour, whether they be friendliness or more, she planned to place a barrier between them. She needed to, even if the idea caved in her chest. Her hands trembled as she let it go, smiling sadly at it before turning to dress in her green garment.
The yellow one she’d brought with her lay torn upon the ground, the evidence of the night before and all the pain she’d suffered. The warmth of their embrace. The horror she’d felt that made her push at him and scamper away, although she’d done so calmly so he wouldn’t know of her panic.
Once clothed, Carwyn knelt on her makeshift bed with her second underdress and began stitching the shoulder of it so she could wear it later. The spots of blood would be cleaned away by her concoction once she did her laundry for the day.
The entire time, her sight danced towards the comb, yearning for it and its possible meaning before she shied away again. It sat upon the maroon garment, and she couldn’t help thinking they complimented each other.
How they would complement him and his scales, his eyes, as if she was dressed in his very essence.
Brushing stray curls off her brow that had fallen from her two braids, opting for a different style, Carwyn rounded her shoulders back.
She left the room, quelled her nagging thoughts, and stomped up the incline.
She was ready to face the dragon and place an unbreakable wall between them, undoing any misunderstandings that might exist.
I must leave. Her feet stumbled as her mind added, But what if I return?
No. Carwyn had no idea what would become of her once she completed her journey. She might become something he hated, or something as feeble as a human.
Wanting anything, anything at all, is pointless.
She entered the cooking area and was relieved to find it empty.
She approached the pot on the hearth and held her hands out near its sides to feel residual warmth.
With a giddiness at the smell and what she saw inside, she reached for a bowl and served herself some of the fresh meat and vegetables, thankful to have a proper, nourishing meal.
She left behind the liquid for Selene to consume over the course of the next day.
Taking a seat, she chomped down her food with vigour. Delicious! I love chicken. And since Kier had finally left to apparently not only hunt for himself but pluck a chicken and some eggs from a farm, she was savouring it.