4. Maya
four
Maya
" I didn't expect you back so late," I tell him.
"Well, I know the plan was for me to start tomorrow. However, a young lady staying alone doesn't sit well with me."
Suddenly, it dawned on me, "Asher, I… I'm so sorry."
He looks at me suddenly as if caught off guard. "For what, dear?"
"I didn't even consider where you would stay here in town." I begin frantically looking around the bakery. There was nowhere in the bakery that Asher could stay comfortably. The only other option was for him to stay upstairs in my small studio apartment, which would be close quarters. Something I'm sure no man would like to do with a stranger. Suddenly, a hand is on my chin, and I'm turned and staring face-to-face with Asher.
"My dear, don't you worry about me. You held up your end of the deal, and I have as many apple pies as I want. Now let me hold up my end."
My breathing is suddenly quick, and he releases me.
"Don't you worry about me! Go upstairs and go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow. It's the beginning of the week, and I feel you'll make many apple pies over the next few weeks."
"Are you sure? I feel horrible not making sure you have proper accommodations."
"I'll be just fine, dear. Get up to bed." I hesitate momentarily, then head upstairs, shutting my door softly behind me.
The next hour was me pacing back and forth, worried.
I didn't know this man. I'd only met him that day, so why was my heart racing when I was away?
Another hour passed, and I took a bath to ease my nerves. It was now past midnight. I ran hot water in the bathtub, adding bubble bath soap, mint leaves, and lighting candles. The plants that filled my bathroom vined down over the tub's edge and weaved in and out of each other. The only light in the room was the candles softly dancing with every breath that I took.
"What am I doing?" I whispered to myself, leaning back. My hair was loose and falling over the tub's edge in pools on the ground.
After a while, I get out of the tub and begin making some hot tea, making sure to pour an extra cup for Asher.
I grabbed my robe and pulled it tightly around me. It was a thin silk-white robe that I'd had for what seemed like forever.
I tiptoe down the stairs, trying to be quiet in case he's sleeping. Then, I peek around the stairs, only to see him standing outside the door with no jacket. Snow has piled up on his crossed arms.
My mouth fell open, and I rushed over, setting the cups down on the counter before swinging the door open.
"What are you doing?" I snapped at him. His gaze jerked to me, and it softened immediately. My hand was on his arm, and his skin was ice cold to the touch. "Come inside. There's no need to stand out here in the cold like this. It's a blizzard!"
Asher looks at me for a moment, and that's when I realize that all I'm wearing is, in fact, my robe. He swings me up in his arms, bracing my back and the other under my legs, and carries me inside. My feet were cold and practically numb, and as I gazed down at myself, I realized just how exposed I was. The robe does nothing to cover my curves because of how tightly I tied it, and my nipples are hard and peeking through the fabric. I throw my arms over my chest, and my face heats up.
"Why are you up so late?" Asher sets me down on a seat and gets down on his knees in front of me, grabbing one of my feet in his hands.
"Why am I up so late? Why are you up so late? And standing out there like that?" I snapped at him.
"Tone," he says sternly.
I snap my mouth closed and look away, frustrated. Both of his large hands are over my feet, warming them slowly.
"Was that for me?" He's looking at the two tea cups still steaming.
"Yes," I say quietly.
He looks down at my feet and smiles to himself. "No wonder you got so many proposals."
"I was just worried," I say, not looking at his eyes.
Not even a moment later, his face was only inches from mine, and I froze.
"Trust me, my dear, you have nothing to worry about with me." He reaches up and grabs a cup, taking a sip. He shuts his eyes and groans.
"Asher, you can't stand out there like that every night. It's not safe." Asher takes another sip and licks his lips while staring at me.
"And like I said before, I'm not the one you should be stressing about. You're the one who ran outside with barely any clothing on. In fact, I don't even think you would consider that clothing." He glances down at me, and I pull my robe over my chest.
"Stay upstairs with me." My voice shocks me.
This man is a stranger. What are you doing, Maya?
"Upstairs?" He says, grinning at me. "I wouldn't want to intrude."
"I would feel better if you were up there anyways," I cleared my throat and broke eye contact.
"Do you not feel safe with me down here?"
"If something happens to you down here, how am I supposed to know?"
"Fair enough," he says, taking another sip of tea. He leans against the counter, and I begin looking at the intricate swirling tattoos on his arms. Near the top of his bicep was the intricate tattoo design of a goat. It was a black goat with piercing eyes just like his, and from it flowed more intricate patterns.
"Did you do those yourself?" I ask. Asher stares at me momentarily, confused, before his eyes light up with realization.
"I did," he says. "It's a very grounding hobby for me. Brings me peace."
"It's amazing," I say. I bring my fingers up to his arm and begin tracing the patterns. He stands there, unmoving, his eyes following the trail of my fingertips.
"It's late, princess. If I stay upstairs with you, it's time for us to go to bed." I yank my hand away with the sudden realization, and my face heats up.
"I can tell you're tired," he says, chuckling. He grabbed both the tea cups and offered a hand to help me out of the chair. We make our way upstairs, and before I open the door, I turn around to him. The landing at the top of the stairs was small, offering barely enough room for one person. He practically dwarfs me.
"Don't make fun of me," I say, staring at my bare feet.
"Well, now I have to see," he says, grinning at me. His large frame fills the space. "You should see my cabin."
"Promise?"
His eyes get a slight glint. "I promise."
I opened the door, and he began looking around. The bath was still filled with water, still hot and steaming. The kettle sat on the stove, not turned off, and tea bags were scattered over the counter.
"This is what you were anxious about?" He turns to me, grinning deviously.
"I don't have guests here. Maybe the occasional street cat that I bring in, but they never stay long."
I walk into the room, and Asher follows me. He sets the two cups on the counter before swinging me in his arms again and walking me over to my bed. He pulls the sheets back and lays me down before pulling the sheets over me.
"Go to bed; it's late." He says sternly.
"What about you?" My eyes already feel heavy.
"Like I said before, you don't have to worry about me," Asher says, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed frame. He leans his head back, shutting his eyes.
As much as I wanted to fight him, I didn't have the strength to. There was something comforting about his eyes—something that seemed so familiar, but no matter what I did, I couldn't put my finger on it.
Without thinking, I reached my hand out to him and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. He raised his hand and completely closed it around mine, holding it gently. Even though his skin was ice cold before, it didn't bother me for some reason, and my hand sitting in his was one of the warmest feelings I had felt in a very long time.
I've always had vivid dreams, good and bad. However, after the passing of my grandmother, I never saw faces.
I walked through the elegant ballroom. Glittering gold lights hang from the vast ceilings, and heavy velvet black curtains hug floor-to-ceiling windows.
"My lady."
I spin around and see a tall, muscular man with long, silky white hair.
"Do I know you?" I grab his hand, and he spins me. My light white silk dress with long sleeves glides around me.
"You do, my dear," the man dips me, his hand on my lower back.
I stare into his eyes and realize that I can see his eyes.
"I'm dreaming."
"You are," he spins me, molding my body close to his as we flow through the empty, dazzling ballroom.
"I can see your eyes," I say, reaching a hand up to graze my fingertips over the edge of his mask—a deep red masquerade mask adorned with gold swirling accents. He clasps my hand in his and spins me.
The man chuckles. His touch feels like fire against my skin, and I try to pull away. I begin searching, frantically looking around me.
"He's not here, my dear," the man begins to spin us faster, and I hold on to him tightly as I feel myself getting dizzy.
His words make my chest tighten. My eyes dart around the room.
"Where is he?"
The man clicks his tongue in annoyance and grips my chin painfully tight, forcing me to look at him.
"Where he should've stayed." The man's face is twisted with annoyance, almost envy. "Look at me."
I slam my fists on the man's chest, and he catches my wrist in a painfully tight grip.
"Behave, little one." He spins us at a now sickening speed, and I shut my eyes.
"Asher!" I scream till my throat feels like it's splitting.
"Fucking bitch," the man pulls me into him, and he smells of overpowering mint.
"let me go!" I scream, and it's as if we were two magnets opposing each other. We are yanked apart and thrown to opposite sides of the room. I side into a marble pillar, and my back hits with a snap, knocking the air from my lungs.
My vision clears, and I look up to see the man stalking towards me, his fists clenched.
"What did you do?" He screams. He reaches me and lifts me by my throat. He holds me tight, and I can't draw a breath. I claw at his hands, and I bite my lip from the pressure, and blood drips down my chin.
"Asher," I squeak out and shut my eyes.
"He's not here, dear," the man's voice roars, echoing through the room like a dozen voices. The air whips around us, and I cringe.
Just then, it dropped to the floor, and standing between me and the man was a goat—no, a man. No, that's not right either. A muscular man with goat legs and hooved feet stood with power before me. His hair hung almost to the floor, and loose chains hung around his ankles and waist, clanking as if angry.
I reached out to the creature. His back holds an intricate tattoo of a goat demon, and swirling black ink surrounds the rest of his body. My soul seemed to need him.
The man glances at me over his shoulder, and his eyes pierce red.
I sit up and look around me. Asher is asleep, leaning against my bed, and the shop and apartment are silent.