Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The day passed in a blur of routine tasks—shelving books, helping patrons, organizing displays—but beneath it all ran a current of anticipation for tomorrow night. Every time I thought of seeing Rion again, of being in his space, of feeling his arms around me, a pleasant shiver ran through me.
By the time my shift ended, I’d fielded at least a dozen knowing looks from Brenda and deflected several attempts from other coworkers to discover the source of my unusually cheerful mood.
I wasn’t ready to share my secret with anyone else yet.
For now, it was enough that Brenda knew and accepted this new reality.
As I walked home, the early evening air crisp against my skin, I pulled out my phone to text Rion again.
Just got off work. Thinking about what kind of dessert to bring tomorrow. Any preferences?
His reply came as I was unlocking my apartment door.
Something chocolate, perhaps. Or whatever you enjoy. I’m not particular.
I smiled, imagining his serious expression as he typed those words. Always so careful, so precise. Even in text, I could hear the measured cadence of his deep voice.
Chocolate it is. I make a pretty decent brownie. Not as good as your biscuits, but edible.
I set my bag down and kicked off my shoes, feeling the pleasant ache of a day spent on my feet. My phone buzzed again.
I’m certain they’ll be excellent. Like their maker.
My heart did a little flip at his words. Was Rion flirting with me? The thought made me giddy. I typed back:
Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.
I hesitated, then added:
I told Brenda about us today. About what you are. Hope that’s okay.
This time, the reply took longer to come. I had changed into comfortable clothes and started measuring ingredients for brownies when my phone finally vibrated.
I suspected you might. Was she… accepting?
The hesitation in his text was almost palpable. I could imagine him sitting in his beautiful labyrinth, those large hands carefully typing out the words, his dark eyes serious as he awaited my response.
More than accepting. She was excited for me. For us. And she told me about other monsters—sorry, non-humans—in town. Did you know Dr. Mercer’s wife is a werewolf?
I sent the text, then immediately followed with another:
She wants to meet you properly sometime. But I told her we’re taking things slow on the social front. No pressure at all.
The pause before his next reply was shorter.
I appreciate that. And yes, I was aware of Mrs. Mercer’s nature. Our paths have crossed occasionally at night. She’s been… respectful.
I found myself wondering what that encounter had looked like—a werewolf and a minotaur acknowledging each other in the darkness. It struck me again how little I truly knew about Rion’s world, about the hidden community of non-humans that apparently existed alongside us ordinary folks.
She mentioned a few others too. The baker on Elm Street is apparently a changeling? I had no idea.
His reply was surprisingly prompt.
Her cream puffs are exceptional. A benefit of fae ancestry, I suspect.
I laughed out loud, delighted by this glimpse into his knowledge of the supernatural community.
You’ve had her cream puffs? Rion! You’ve been holding out on me. We need to go there together sometime.
This time, the pause stretched so long that I began to worry I’d pushed too far. I was about to send a follow-up text when my phone finally buzzed.
I order delivery. I haven’t been inside the shop itself.
Of course. He wouldn’t risk the stares and whispers that would inevitably follow him into a public place like a bakery. A pang of sadness shot through me at the thought of him missing out on so many simple pleasures because of how others might react to him.
Well, maybe someday. Or I could pick some up for us. No pressure.
I wanted to add something more, to express how much I wished the world could see him as I did—as remarkable rather than frightening—but I sensed that such sentiments might only make him uncomfortable.
Instead, I changed the subject.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. I should warn you though—I might have trouble keeping my hands off your horns. They’re kind of irresistible.
I added a winking emoji, hoping the flirtation wasn’t too much. His response made me laugh out loud.
I find I have no objection to that whatsoever.
Followed immediately by:
Your hair is equally fascinating to me. So soft. I’ve never felt anything quite like it.
The intimacy of the admission sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. I remembered the feeling of his large hands gently tangling in my hair as we kissed, the careful restraint in his touch despite his obvious desire.
You have permission to play with my hair anytime. It’s only fair, since I’m obsessed with your horns.
I hesitated, then added:
And your fur. And your hands. And pretty much all of you, if I’m being honest.
The feeling is entirely mutual, I assure you.
I set my phone aside, my cheeks warm with pleasure at his words. I couldn’t wait for dinner—and what might come after dinner.
A sharp knock startled me from my daydream about dinner with Rion.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. Brenda would have texted first, and Rion always announced his visits with a message—his careful nature wouldn’t allow for surprises.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole.
Mark?
I blinked, momentarily confused. Mark Evans, my attractive neighbor from 3A, stood in the hallway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The same Mark I’d mistakenly tried to text about my ladder emergency, inadvertently leading me to Rion instead.
I hadn’t seen much of Mark lately—our paths rarely crossed beyond quick nods in the mailroom. But there he was, looking as casually handsome as ever in faded jeans and a snug Henley that emphasized his gym-toned physique.
I opened the door, suddenly conscious of my flour-dusted apron and the smear of chocolate I’d probably left on my cheek.
“Mark! Hi! This is… unexpected.”
He flashed that easy, charming smile that had made me crush on him when he first moved in. “Hey, Clara. Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you had a ladder I could borrow? The irony isn’t lost on me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “A ladder? Seriously?”
His dimples deepened. “I know, right? But my smoke detector keeps chirping, and I need to change the battery.”
“The universe has a weird sense of humor,” I said, shaking my head in amusement. “But I actually don’t have a ladder. That’s why I was trying to text you that day.”
“That’s what I figured.” He leaned against my doorframe with casual confidence. “I never got your text, by the way. Must have gone to someone else.”
Oh, it definitely did. I fought back a smile, thinking of where that misdirected message had ultimately led me.
“Yeah, I probably typed the number wrong,” I admitted. “But it all worked out. I found… help.” I stumbled over the last word, not sure how to casually refer to finding a minotaur boyfriend through a wrong number.
“I can see that.” Mark’s eyes traveled to the flour on my apron. “You’re baking? It smells amazing in there.”
“Brownies,” I explained. “For a… date.” The word still felt new and exciting on my tongue.
Mark’s eyebrows rose slightly. “A date? Good for you, Clara.” Was that a flicker of disappointment in his eyes? “Anyone I know?”
“No, he’s not from around here. Well, he is, but he’s… private.” I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like I was betraying Rion somehow by discussing him, even vaguely.
“Mysterious,” Mark commented with a half-smile. “Well, I won’t keep you from your baking. Any chance you know someone else with a ladder?”
I was about to suggest the building superintendent when a movement in the hallway caught my eye. A large figure stood by the stairwell, partially obscured by shadow.
My heart leapt. Rion.
He stepped forward slightly, and I could see he was wearing his usual “public” disguise—wide-brimmed hat pulled low, voluminous coat despite the mild spring weather. But his distinctive height and presence were unmistakable to me now.
“Rion!” I called out, pleasure washing through me. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”
He approached with that measured grace that still amazed me, given his size. “I finished early,” he said, his deep voice measured. “Thought I might surprise you.”
I beamed at him, then turned to make introductions. “Mark, this is Rion. Rion, my neighbor Mark.”
Mark extended his hand with easy sociability. “Nice to meet you, man.”
Rion hesitated almost imperceptibly before taking Mark’s hand in a brief, careful shake. “Likewise.”
I watched the exchange with a strange fluttering in my stomach. Two worlds colliding—my ordinary life and my extraordinary new reality. Mark looked positively diminutive next to Rion, though he was probably six feet tall himself.
“Mark needs a ladder,” I explained to Rion. “Smoke detector issues.”
Something flashed in Rion’s eyes—recognition, perhaps, of the irony that had brought us together.
“I have several,” Rion said, his tone neutral. “Various heights and load capacities.”
Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That would be amazing if I could borrow one.”
“I could bring one by tomorrow,” Rion offered, though something in his voice seemed oddly flat.
I studied him more closely, noticing a subtle tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments before. His posture was rigid, almost defensive, and he’d positioned himself slightly closer to me than was strictly necessary for casual conversation.
“That’s really generous,” Mark said, apparently oblivious to any undercurrents. “Thanks, man.” He turned to me with a warm smile. “Looks like you found yourself a handy guy after all, Clara.”
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. “I did.”
“Lucky you.” Mark’s tone was light, but there was something in his gaze—a brief, appraising look that traveled between Rion and me—that made me wonder if he was only now realizing he might have missed an opportunity with me.
“Well, I should let you get back to your baking,” Mark said, backing away. “Thanks for the ladder offer, Rion. I’m in 3A whenever you have time.”
“I’ll bring it tomorrow afternoon,” Rion replied, his deep voice even but with a subtle rumble underneath that I was learning to recognize as emotion carefully contained.
“Perfect. Nice meeting you.” Mark gave a casual wave and headed down the hallway.
I turned to Rion with a smile, ready to express my delight at his surprise visit, but the words died on my lips when I saw his expression. Or rather, the lack of it. His face had gone completely impassive, almost mask-like.