3. Chapter Three
Three Days After The Weyr Reunion
This man is in dire need of edible food in his apartment. Everything in his cabinets is expired. In my hand is a box dinner promising a healthy meal for two! — expired two years ago. This is food poisoning waiting to happen. What in the Hells does he eat?
With a sigh, I pull out my phone and place an order at a nearby delicious Satyr restaurant known for its vegan cuisine. Through the walls, I can hear Trinte showering. It warms my heart knowing he’s at least doing that.
Turning my focus to the dishes still needing to be done, I let myself sink into the rhythm of tidying up. Cleaning helps me feel in control when life is often so out of control.
Maybe it’ll help Trinte; maybe it won’t.
I can’t claim to know him well; we’ve texted over the last few weeks to coordinate about Orliana and Fynn, but it’s been surface level. Keeping with our verbal agreement to keep the past in the past.
Even if round two sounds amazing.
But I’m the one who insisted it was just once.
To keep things from getting messy. Secretly, I’ve always hoped he wouldn’t respect my boundaries and try to pursue me.
It’s my luck that he’s respectful. My guess is that the sex wasn’t as hot for him — not enough to spur him into action.
That’s fine. Chemistry isn’t always mutual. I think.
“Where’s the food you promised?”
Startled, the soapy glass in my hand slips. It cracks against the metal sink. Trinte raises an eyebrow at my grimace. He’s in clean clothes, with his long hair braided down his back. He looks like the man I flirted with all those months ago, aside from his gaunt features.
“I’m so sorry.” I lift the glass, showing the long crack. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “That was my favorite glass, Kyrielle.”
Cheeks burning, I place it gently on the counter. For the first time since I stepped into the apartment, I’m hesitant. “I’m sor—”
He grins; it’s dazzling. “I’m fucking with you. It’s fine. I got it at a flea market for two corals.”
Exhaling with relief, I laugh. “Okay, I deserved that.”
He nods, padding into the kitchen. “But really, where’s the food?”
Drying my hands with a towel, I lean against the counter. “Did you know your shelves are full of expired food?”
“Yes.”
He chuckles, grabbing a glass from a cabinet. My body freezes as he steps close enough for our body heat to mingle. His chin tilts down, the one brilliantly blue eye crinkled with amusement. Breath stalls in my lungs as he leans forward.
Is he about to kiss me?
Memories from months ago assault me. The way he kisses; touches; licks.
The heat from his Fyre is a furnace emanating from his chest. Instincts ablaze, my body shifts toward this inexplicable magnetic charge.
“Excuse me.”
I blink, confused. His arm reaches around me. The faucet turns on. Trinte raises a dark eyebrow.
“Oh, sorry.” I step out of the way so he can fill the glass. Heart thudding, I pray he can’t hear the way my breath quickens. It’s completely deranged to even think he might have wanted to be close.
He’s asked me why I’m here, and honestly, I don’t know. Intuition, maybe. Or perhaps I recognize a little of his darkness; there’s plenty of it residing inside me. It’s not just because we hooked up, or that he clearly cares about his brother and my best friend.
It’s because I truly believe no one should be alone in this world.
Helping people during the worst moments is my obsession.
Over the years, I’ve trained hundreds of women at the battle gym and escorted them to safety.
Their stories almost blur together, with one familiar thread: loneliness.
It’s a pandemic of heartbreak that leaves people vulnerable.
If we can come together more as a community, maybe some of the worst parts of life can be erased.
I’ve been scorned as a dreamer, but I refuse to be part of the problem.
Trinte smirks, taking a sip of water. Like he knows exactly what crossed my mind. Desperate to busy my hands, I check the location of the food delivery. The digital map on my phone shows it’s almost here.
I look at the small table in one corner of the kitchen. Putting space between me and the blue Dragon, I focus on clearing the various items on the surface.
“Are you opposed to organizing things?” I ask conversationally, trying to keep my voice even. Maybe if I bait him, we’ll both end up so mad at one another that this lingering tension will disappear. Then we’ll laugh and laugh…
Delusional.
“Again, you are not locked inside this apartment. You’re welcome to leave at any time.”
The frustration in his voice makes me crack a smile.
“Go through this right now.” In my hands, I fan out unopened mail like a stack of cards. “There might be something important in here.”
His lips purse, all amusement evaporated. “Is this a latent service provided to all the men you fuck in a bathroom?”
The moment between us turns frigid as his words sink in.
How dare he.
Embarrassment scalds my cheeks; it was a mistake, randomly showing up because of misplaced worry. I know he’s pushing me away, but after that comment, I won’t spend anymore energy on trying to help. Whatever he’s going through, he’s determined to do it alone.
Slapping the pile of mail into his broad chest, I snap, “You know what? Be a miserable sow for all I care. I’ll just be the woman you fucked at a speed dating event.
Not Orliana’s best friend that you’ll probably be seeing all the time.
Not the fighter who could absolutely kick your ass in the arena. Just another notch on your bedpost.”
Trinte’s expression flickers with something that might be regret, but I ignore it. Hurling him a look of disgust, I stalk out of the kitchen.
There’s not a man on this fucking continent worth that kind of disrespect. He doesn’t have my consent to reduce my identity to a spontaneous moment of spreading my legs. I won’t let him tarnish the fun memory with a sour attitude.
He doesn’t call for me as I throw the door open, startling a pixie carrying a bag of steaming food. Over my shoulder, I snarl, “Your food’s here. Fucking eat something and stop being so goddess damned pathetic.”
Brushing past the pixie, I bolt for the edge of the cliff he lives on, flinging myself into the clouds.
***
Eight Months Ago: The Speed Dating Event
For the most part, I hate men. I know, I know — generalizing is bad. Whatever. But spending six days a week around them, plus hearing the stories of survival from women, they’re firmly planted in my brain as problematic.
So why in the Hells am I at this speed dating event?
Because a tiny, stupid part of me wants love. I’d never had it, but people claim it’s magic.
I wouldn’t mind a little magic in my life.
Rocking on the balls of my toes, I wait in the long line for a nametag with twitching iridescent wings.
I wish Orliana could’ve come — she was supposed to come.
She chickened out last second, saying she didn’t want to meet strange men at a bar.
I don’t blame her — I don’t even like dating — but I’m getting to an age where random hook-ups are wearing on me.
Maybe the goddesses will throw me a bone.
This bar certainly has potential for magic, with its cozy ambiance.
The ceiling's dome of fractured glass casts rainbows around the space as the sunset light hits the corners just right.
Ferns hang from the ceiling, their leaves swaying gently in a magykcal breeze.
Light, relaxing music plays over hidden speakers.
One side contains a long bar, hosting swiveling stools and a wall of alcohol resting on glass shelves. Warm amber lighting behind the bottles lends an upscale vibe.
I shift my weight onto a heel, fussing with the hem of my white body-con dress. I spent a ridiculous amount of time fretting about how to look tonight, finally settling on soft curls and neutral eyeshadow. It isn’t my most bold look, but considering all the stares, I’ve done alright.
“First time?”
I look over my shoulder to find a female Vampyre grinning, fangs long and white. She wears a form-fitting black dress, has bright red hair and gold eyes.
I chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”
She raises the wine in her hand, waving a raised finger haphazardly. “For starters, you don’t already have a drink in your hand. Rookie mistake, because these get wild. Second, you keep looking around like an executioner is about to step out from the bathroom with an axe in hand.”
Smiling, I admit, “I’m really nervous.” I thrust out a hand. “Kyrielle, but you can call me Kyri.”
“Morella.” She shakes my hand, her cool palm a stark contrast to my hot one. After taking a sip of her drink, she asks, “What are you looking for today?”
The line inches forward. I shrug. “I’m not sure. I know I’m tired of hooking up with randoms.”
Morella snorts, taking another sip of her wine. It’s half-way gone already. “Tell me about it. I’m two hundred years old and totally over the emptiness of sex with randoms.”
It’s impossible for me to agree more. “You get it.”
Our shared knowing look is interrupted by a gruff, “Next.”
I turn back toward the table, finding an irritated female Cyclops drumming her blunt nails on the table. Shuffling forward, I give an apologetic smile. “Sorry, got a little carried away. Kyrielle Veritas.”
“It’s just you?”
I frown. “It’s a speed dating event, so yes?”
“You’d be surprised,” she says in a monotone voice, checking off my name on a list. Handing me a name tag, she points to one side of the room, “The women will sit in the same chair the entire time, starting over there. You’ll have three minutes with each man.
” She slides a piece of paper with blank printed lines on it.
“Write down whoever you want to meet again.” She pauses, adding dryly, “Good luck.”
Giving Morella an encouraging smile, I make a beeline for the bar. It’s already packed. Even with my heels, I’m shorter than most everyone, making it difficult to wave down the bartender. Downsides of being a Sprite.