43. Chapter Forty-Three
Iwake up swaddled in warm scales. This was easily the best I’ve ever slept. I didn’t need dozens of deadbolts or dumb weapons nearby. My instincts, heart, and mind know that together, Trinte would kill anyone who tried to hurt us here.
We’re safe together.
Inhaling his scent, I listen for signs of him being awake. I have the urge to rub him, but it’s smarter to refrain. His nightmare the other night scared me so thoroughly that I don’t want to spook him or, goddess forbid, cause a nightmare.
When he freaked out, I’ve never heard a grown man make those sounds of panic and devastation before.
It’s like I was barely here. But he never truly left.
He stayed nearby for me. I know it was for me.
No one runs out of the room like that without the need for significant distance.
At least, that’s how it is for a lot of fliers.
“What are you thinking, Firefly?”
I startle, then giggle. “How did you know I was up?”
“Your heartbeat.”
“You can hear that?”
“Oh, yes.”
Why does that make my heart beat harder? “What were you thinking about?”
His tail pushes me closer as his arms wrap tighter. “That I’ve never slept so well in my life.”
“Me, too, actually.”
“Seriously?”
“Very serious.”
He hums, vibrating my face. “Do you want pancakes?”
“Yes!” I say quickly. They’re my favorite breakfast food. “With lemon and confectionary sugar?”
“You’re too comfortable, Firefly, giving incredibly niche food orders.”
“You made them for me yesterday.” I pout, even though he can’t see it.
“I know,” he says with a smile in his tone. Kissing the top of my head, he says into my hair, “But it’s the presumption that has my panties in a twist.”
“I presume you don’t want me to start gnawing on you.” I turn my head to bite his bicep. Mouth full, I try to say, “This is good, too,” but it comes out too garbled.
He snorts, running a hand down my back. “You’re welcome to eat me any time, Firefly.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” he says firmly. “Including my armpits, if you’d like.”
“Eww, they’re hairy.”
“It helps you floss,” he assures me.
“Eww!” I squeal, laughing as I push him away. “Take your floss pits and go make coffee or something. Leave me to this glorious bed.”
“Can’t,” he says flatly. “You haven’t paid the pancake toll yet.”
I crane my neck to look at him. He looks down at me past his nose awkwardly. “What is a pancake toll?”
His breath is warm on the shell of my ear as he whispers, “I get to lick anything I want.”
My breath catches. “Anything?”
“Anything you agree to,” he corrects. “Naturally.”
“Okay, Pancake God, what’ll it be?”
Trinte taps the side of my hip with a finger. “This scrumptious morsel, please.”
I laugh, pushing the blanket away. “Go ahead, Mr. Gleanscale. All yours.”
His fingers slowly, so slowly, curl around the edge of my underwear, gently tug it down a couple of inches. Casting me a mischievous look, he says, “I made up the pancake toll thing.”
He licks the slope of my hip with fierce precision, dragging his tongue to the bottom of my ribs. I gasp as he nips my skin lightly before replacing my underwear back to its original location, giving it a pat before tucking the blanket around me again.
“Lemon and sugar pancakes, coming right up.” He scoots out of bed, wearing dark purple boxer briefs. Everything else is bare. My mouth goes dry at the muscles flexing with each step. He watches me visibly gobble him up with a smirk.
“Hey, I’m not a piece of meat, you know,” he says, walking into his bathroom.
“So you’re saying you never want me to try to swallow your meat log?” I slap a hand over my mouth, mortified. The joke sounded way better in my head.
There’s a prolonged silence, then Trinte’s head slowly begins to crane around the edge of the door. “Can you repeat that, please?”
“No.”
He steps fully into the doorway, still in his boxer briefs. With an expression of dismay and delight, he says, “Did you … just say ‘meat log’?”
“No, I said ‘street smog,’” Well, that was lame. I want to die, just a little bit.
“You want to eat my meat log?” he says, now looking a little horrified.
“See, if I say yes, this turns into a different conversation that will possibly prevent the timely delivery of pancakes.” I cross my arms. “If I say no, then it will for sure prevent the timely delivery of pancakes and possibly hurt your feelings.”
“Sounds like the best option is the one that doesn’t hurt my feelings,” he says, smirking.
“I do not want to eat your meat log,” I say swiftly, narrowing my eyes. “I want to eat your corn on the cob.”
We stare at one another; he in disbelief and I in humiliation. I’m digging this grave — someone come bury me under the dirt.
“Kyrielle?” he says calmly, expression blank.
“Um, yes?” I draw my knees close, wanting to melt into a puddle of quickly evaporating liquid.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss regarding the texture of my penis?”
I groan, pressing a pillow to my face. “If I let you lick the other hip, can we pretend this entire conversation never happened?”
“No. But I will get started on the pancakes.” With a wide grin, he waggles his eyebrows, then disappears again.
Piling pillows on top of myself, I pretend to be buried alive.
***
Unfortunately, my wing is entirely better today. Plus, Trinte needs to go to work, and I need to go teach a self-defense class. It’ll be instruction only, to stay on the safe side, but I don’t want to cancel it.
After the pancakes — which are amazing — Trinte promises to text me. It sucks leaving him behind. We also agreed that we’ll be taking a day or two apart to let everything settle.
I hate the concept, but can appreciate the intent.
Before heading to the battle gym, I’m meeting with Talia for coffee. We haven’t had a lot of time alone lately, so I’m eager for the opportunity.
She’s already waiting for me, my favorite cinnamon hazelnut latte ready. She stands, offering me a big, warm hug. No one would look at us, with her dark skin in contrast to mine, and assume she’s my mother.
But Talia is more of a mother than mine ever was. She’s my mom in all the ways that matter.
“Hey, love bug, I’ve missed you.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “I’ve been busy lately.”
Talia huffs out a chuckle, settling into her chair. “These last couple of months have been wild, with Orliana finding Fynn. Now they’re in Slous having the time of their lives”
I’ve been getting daily updates via photos. Orliana has never smiled so wide. “They’re so good together.”
“Agreed.” Talia smiles. She eyes my wing. “How’s the injury?”
I flex my wings with a grin. “Basically good as new. I spent the last few days resting it.”
Talia looks like the sphinx that caught the bird. “And Trinte helped?”
Resting my chin on a hand, I say, “He did more than help, Talia. He was attentive and sweet.”
He was so much more than that, but how would I even begin to explain everything that has shifted with him?
She raises an eyebrow with a small smirk playing on her mouth. “So will there be less fighting at the next dinner?”
With a grin, I hold up my hands. “No promises. That man is mercurial.”
Talia hums, pursing her lips.
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. “What?”
She sips her coffee. “I’ve never seen him as mercurial. So there must be something between the two of you to bring out that side of him.”
Bristling, I ask, “What are you saying?”
Her expression softens. “I want to make sure you’ve thought it through, letting him get close to you.”
“Why? You don’t trust him?”
Talia gives me a long, knowing look.
Oh. “You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you,” she assures me, leaning forward.
“But I know you, Kyri. You’ve never dated anyone for long.
As far as I know, you’ve never had a relationship.
” Talia, normally carrying a friendly expression, looks more serious than I’ve seen in years.
It’s awful to be on the receiving end. “That boy has been through enough, love bug. I want to make sure you’ve thought this through. ”
Okay, first off, what the fuck?
Second, what the fuck?
Her words hurt far more than expected. Anger heats my skin. “I thought we were meeting to catch up, not to chastise me for something I haven’t done yet.” My fist clenches the cup, threatening to crush it. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Talia’s eyes look around the shop as she contemplates her words.
When she speaks again, it’s to stab me right in the heart.
“Kyri, you were literally living on the streets when I met you. Through the years, I’ve seen you scrape and claw toward something all of your own.
But never in that time have you truly let anyone in, aside from Orliana and me. ”
Tears well in my eyes; from sadness or fury, I can’t tell.
She frowns at my expression. “Trinte is a kind soul, and so are you. But that boy …”
Talia shakes her head. How much does she know about him? Does she somehow know more than me? Unfamiliar jealousy rears its ugly head. Not because she knows more, but because I want to know more.
I’m two seconds away from walking out. “Maybe I just haven’t had a relationship because no one is good enough. Did you ever consider that?”
“Of course,” she says with a soft smile. Her quiet tone does nothing to calm the rising indignation. “And no one is good enough.” She pauses, then adds, “Except maybe him.”
My jaw flexes as I grind my molars. She knows damn well I won’t disagree. Trinte is easily the most worthy of me. “That’s not the point.”
Talia sighs, takes a sip of her coffee. “I want both of my girls happy. Whatever that looks like for them. You just spent how many days with him? Baby, you’re practically glowing. I’m sure if he was in front of me right now, he’d be doing the same.”
The grin on his face today was otherworldly. It still gives me flutters in my belly, knowing it’s me who makes him so happy.
“But you think I’m going to hurt him,” I say flatly.
Talia’s expression gives nothing away as she says, “I think that when things become too vulnerable, you leave.”