19. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
After an hour of silence, and constant jostling between Riggs' legs, they finally arrived at a white-painted, two-story manor nestled on a hillside, surrounded by dense forest and the roar of a nearby river. Peach and magenta clouds spread throughout the skies as the sun set west.
“Home sweet home.” Killian sighed in relief as he slid off his stallion and stretched his muscular arms over his head.
Riggs scooped Esemeray in his arms, dismounting with grace. “Yeah, home sweet home.” His voice was tired, flat. “I’m calling it a night.”
“This early?” Killian met Riggs' eyes, then stared toward her and scoffed. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t bring that cat inside the house.”
Esemeray’s heart lodged in her throat, but she reminded herself that Killian had no clue who, or what, she was.
“I most certainly am.” Riggs let out a short laugh. “I’m not leaving her outside.”
“Very well then. It’s your responsibility.” Killian shook his head, and tugged the reins to his horse, disappearing behind the backside of the manor.
“Once we get to my bedroom, I want to know everything,” Riggs whispered.
She meowed in answer, growing nervous as she took in the manor.
Their home was breathtaking. Green plants surrounded the wrap-around porch. Riggs walked up the small steps, opening the stained-glass door.
Swords of all shapes and sizes hung along the walls, placed strategically beneath high vaulted wood ceilings. She glanced around, admiring the art along the beige wall. She could tell it was hand sketched by someone with gentle, steady hands, and wondered what artist painted these pieces.
Riggs darted up the stairs and entered a room through a worn oak door. Riggs' scent enveloped her. Mint and evergreen. She purred, noticing similar art surrounding the walls inside—sketches of creatures and landscapes. One she recognized. Underneath the sketch was signed Riggs Whitlock—The Ammit.
This must be his room.
The evening sun streamed through his enormous window, rays beaming against the cherry wooden floors. Esemeray examined the vials resting on shelves, hidden among a dozen containers of herbs, as well as shadow boxes of pinned butterflies and jars of insects floating in a liquid substance.
Esemeray frowned. Explains why he had stabbed the ammits in Eldritch with that terrible needle.
Riggs Whitlock was more than just a bounty hunter, she realized.
He was a scientist.
The night she had met him on the balcony, she noticed the way his voice thickened when he spoke about the stars as if they were more than just pretty lights in the sky.
The way his eyes softened when he gazed toward the heavens.
She knew Riggs appreciated life in another way than most. A beautiful way.
Riggs set her gently on his neatly made bed, then backed toward the door to close it. “Okay, Esemeray, do your thing.”
She gulped.
How could she tell him to turn around? That she would be naked…
Oh, well…
She leapt off the bed, black mist flooding her vision as she shifted back to her human form. Her body was bare before him. Heart racing, she slammed her hand down over her center and covered her breasts with her arm, tossing him a tight smile.
Riggs shifted on his feet, shaking his head, grinning. “Let me grab you something to wear.” He vanished behind what looked like a closet door.
Esemeray darted toward his bed, panic surging through her. She plopped on the edge of the mattress, crossing her legs, holding firmly on her breasts.
Riggs emerged with a white tunic in hand and, respectfully, kept his head down as he inched toward her. She didn’t miss the blush overtaking his face as he handed her his tunic.
“Welcome to my room.” He arched his brow. “I didn’t expect to get you naked on my bed this soon.”
Her eyes widened, heat dripping down her back.
“I’m only kidding.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home, sorry for the mess.”
“Thank you for this.” Esemeray gulped, clenching onto his shirt.
“Oh, right…sorry.” Riggs turned to offer her privacy.
She pulled the oversized tunic over her head, trying not to look at his muscles flexing or the bruises along his arms as he stretched. She cleared her throat, smoothing her hands down the surprisingly soft fabric. “Your bedroom is lovely. I adore the drawings.”
Riggs glanced back, fixing his hair, sweeping it to the side. “Thanks.”
“Do you draw?” she asked, bringing her hand to her mouth, chewing on a fingernail.
“I dabble.” Riggs faced her, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Nothing too impressive.”
“I wouldn’t call this a dabble. I took art lessons for years, courtesy of my mother’s demands.
I’ve never come close to your skill—I mean, your line work is immaculate,” she said, staring at the wall of sketches, skimming over every single one.
She stood, her eyes gravitating next to his bed, where dozens of books and journals lay stacked atop his desk.
Some in neat piles and others scattered throughout.
He’s definitely a scientist. Esemeray felt the tension melting down her shoulders as she slowly wandered around the room.
“Thank you. I’m glad you think so.” He took a step closer. “So, you’re a shifter?”
“Yes, I am.” She nodded. “And so is Elora.”
“I figured.” Riggs slid into his desk chair. “Was that you—in the swamp earlier? The alpha ammit?”
The bed groaned as she took a seat, facing him. “Yes.”
“How did you control them like that?” he asked carefully.
“I…don’t know. I called them… I’ve never done that before. I didn’t think it would work, but I had to try something.”
He leaned back in his chair, assessing her. “You’re fascinating.”
She wanted to believe him, but all she could hear was her mother’s cold voice echoing through her mind. “You’re an abomination.” Esemeray found herself staring at him, blinking. Not knowing what to say.
“I need to tell Killian,” Riggs murmured.
Her eyes widened, mouth dry as paper. “Do we have to tell him?”
“I mean, yeah, eventually.”
The sun rays shone across his face, catching his eyes and illuminating his golden skin. She twined a lock of hair around her finger, her heart floating. She dropped her hand, clearing her throat, hoping he didn’t notice her unravelling. Get it together.
“You know, I was really looking forward to having a cat,” Riggs teased.
Esemeray smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I…thought of something small to avoid being killed.”
Riggs hummed. “It doesn’t matter what form you take—I would never hurt you.”
Esemeray’s heart leaped into her throat. “For the record, you didn’t know it was me.”
“Very true.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry by the way.” Esemeray pointed at his arm. “I didn’t mean to scratch you.”
Riggs cracked a half-smile, rubbing over the scratches. “It was well deserved.”
She hesitated. “You’re not scared of me?” Her voice was a trembling whisper.
He arched his brow, scooting his chair closer to her. “You don’t scare me, princess.” A feral smirk ghosted his lips. “Not for the reasons you think.”
She fidgeted with the buttons along his tunic, blushing.
Riggs' eyes fell to the floor, and she hoped he wasn’t staring at her feet. She stiffened, curling her toes.
Riggs met her gaze. “Back at the restaurant, you mentioned Levaruin? Why?”
“My handmaiden told me to find my cousin…Torin Rey…” she half lied, repositioning herself on his mattress. “Everything happened so fast?—”
“Torin Rey?” Riggs' brows shot up, his eyes dancing with curiosity.
“Do you know him?”
“Know him?” Riggs shook his head. “No, but he has a reputation. He’s the reason I started researching shifters in the first place.”
“Reputation?” She angled her head, confusion spreading across her face.
Riggs bit his lower lip. “Yeah, a couple of years ago he passed through town, causing quite the scene. And when Killian and I tried to take him down, he shifted into a damn raven.” Riggs sprawled his legs, his knee brushing hers, causing her pulse to soar.
“Anyway…he was the one that got away,” he joked, laughing. “Excuse me, flew away.”
Esemeray leaned forward, not daring to move her leg from his. “Do you know a lot about shifters?”
Do all shifters possess shadows? She wanted to ask but couldn't bring herself to.
Riggs shrugged. “I know a fair amount, but not everything.” He raked his fingers through his hair, glancing toward the door then back to her. “What’s your plan? You know people are going to start looking for you.”
“I know.” She didn’t have a plan. All she wanted to do was search for her sister.
Technically, she didn’t have to leave. She could stay…
with him. No one would know if she stayed in another form.
She admitted, “I…want to find Elora.” She inhaled, breathing deeply to calm her racing heart. “I could help you and your brother.”
Riggs leaned back in his chair, bracing his hands behind his head. “Convincing Killian is going to be tough.” He whistled low. “I don’t even know how we’re going to tell him about you.” He reached for her hand. “But I want you to stay…to help.”
He stared deeply into her eyes. “We’re going to figure this out. Together.” He was silent for a moment, his eyes wandering around his room. “You can sleep here with me tonight if you would like.”
Her stomach plummeted.
Sleep? With him?
Oh, gods.
She chewed on her lip, not knowing what to say.
A moment of silence passed before he flicked his gaze down, brushing his thumb along her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the princess?”
The color drained from her face. How long had he been waiting to ask?
She wanted to curl up in shame. “I… I…” She nervously laughed, then went dead silent.
The awkwardness rushing through her body brought color back to her cheeks.
Bracing herself, she met his stare, searching for the right words.
She blurted, “I hate the way it sounds.”
His eyes shot up. “You hate the sound?” His lips curved upward. “Why?”