Chapter Thirty
SANORA
The sound of a drill clawed into my head, dragging me out of sleep. It grew louder the more awake I became, rattling through my skull until I groaned and pried open my heavy eyes.
For a second, I forgot where I was. Then it hit me that I was in Thrax’s room, recalling how I’d skidded to his bed, desperate for the strange safety that only he seemed to bring. My hand fell to the mattress beside me to find it cold and empty of him.
When had he left? Did he even sleep here at all?
The drilling continued, drilling into my mood now. I shoved myself up and stumbled to the door, stepping out to the stairwell. From the landing, I saw a man crouched by the doorway downstairs, dropping his drill and picking up a hammer, a blue vest hugging his frame. He was fixing the door.
Had Thrax called him?
I turned away, went to the bathroom for a little business, then padded downstairs.
The repairman was older, sixties maybe, with a white beard, and his tools spread out by his boots.
A new door leaned against the frame, the broken one was gone.
He looked up when my footsteps creaked down the stairs.
His eyes widened, surprise freezing him for a second before his lips moved.
“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was inside.”
“Good morning,” I muttered.
“Oh,” he checked his watch, a wrinkled brow lifting, “it’s afternoon. Good afternoon.”
I blinked. Afternoon? My stomach twisted. I had slept half the day away? Sure, I’d gone back to bed in the early hours, but still. Afternoon?
I scanned the kitchen and the living room for Thrax but he was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t upstairs, and he wasn’t downstairs. A dull, hollow ache settled in my chest, my palm pressing over my heart as though I could keep it from splintering. Had he gone out again and left like he always did?
I sighed and turned, ready to retreat back upstairs when the man’s voice stopped me. “Ma’am.”
I turned. “Yes?”
He pointed outside. “He said he’s out here.”
Hope flared so hard inside me it nearly made me dizzy. “Really?”
He nodded once. “He’s out here.”
Like a child promised something shiny, I ran to the door, the old man shifting aside to let me pass.
The air outside was cold and damp, afternoon light muted behind a dull grey sky. The earth was still slick with this morning’s rain. To the left, where the car usually stay parked, was Thrax. He stood behind it, towering over the roof as he inspected something.
Right, Weeny Man’s car had been hit.
The moment he looked up and saw me, his eyes softened. His hair was mussed, falling into his face in a way that made my fingers ache to touch. My heart squeezed painfully, and I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss him again or just hold him.
“...I feel alive, and I never feel alive, Sanora! But you make me feel alive.”
The memory of his confession from last night replayed in my head, louder than the hammering had been. Safe to assume he haunted my dream with it, and I wasn’t forgetting it anytime soon, whether I truly made him feel alive or not.
“Isn’t it too early for you to feel sad?” His voice was low, almost teasing, as he stepped out from behind the car. He reached out a hand, palm open.
I walked towards him slowly, trying not to beam like a fool.
Thrax’s palm was hot when I placed mine in it, as if the fire inside him was spilling out.
His big hand folded over mine and, without warning, he tugged me forward.
I stumbled, colliding with the solid wall of his chest. My breath hitched as his other arm circled my waist, pinning me securely against him.
The butterflies inside me went feral, thrashing around with nowhere to go. Did he think his confession last night—and that devastating kiss—gave him the right to touch me this freely?
Well, yes, it did. I didn’t mind. Not at all. We had such limited time, and I wanted to be greedy with it. I wanted every second wrapped in his warmth, without a label on whatever we were.
“I thought you left,” I whispered against the heat of his chest.
“I didn’t.” His voice rumbled through me. “I left the bed two hours ago to get the door fixed.”
Thrax eased me back, just enough to see my face, his gaze pinning me in place. Then his hand rose, thumb brushing my bottom lip. My whole body went molten under that simple touch. His stare dipped to my mouth, and I swore he was obsessed with doing that.
“I can’t believe I slept through the morning,” I muttered breathlessly. “Is it past twelve or past two p.m.? What time is it?”
Heat simmered in his eyes, dragging me under. “Time to kiss you.”
My heart skipped. Then his hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head as his mouth crashed into mine.
Everything in me ignited, his mouth a feral claiming that left me moaning. My lips parted instinctively, and he devoured the sound I made, deepening the kiss until I forgot how to breathe.
Thrax’s body pressed flush against mine, and I felt every line of him, his cock nudging against my stomach through our clothes. Heat shot between my legs, my thighs clenching at the surge of need he was drawing out of me.
I clung to him, one arm wound tight around his neck, the other tangling in his dark hair. The strands slid through my fingers, impossibly soft, and when I tugged, a low, guttural sound ripped from his chest. He groaned into my mouth, body shuddering.
He tore his lips away just long enough to drag in a breath, voice hoarse. “I could die if you keep doing that.”
I smiled against his mouth, my pulse pounding recklessly. “Something is going to end you eventually.”
“My pleasure.” Then his lips crashed back onto mine, hungrier, like he truly wanted me to be the one to end his endless life.
I melted into him, drowning and breathing at once, his arousal hard against my stomach.
A throat cleared.
I startled, jerking slightly, but Thrax didn’t so much as twitch. He kissed me harder, ignoring the man’s presence, until he finally tore his lips from mine, both of us gasping for air. Only then did he turn his head slowly towards the repairman, who stood frozen a few feet away, speechless.
“I…sorry to bother you both.” The repairman scratched the back of his head, awkwardly gesturing at the door. “I’m done.”
Reluctantly, I peeled myself from Thrax’s warmth and walked past the man to the front of the house. My fingers brushed the smooth frame of the new door, its surface clean and modern, a perfect replacement for the shattered one. When I turned, Thrax was already speaking quietly with the man.
“Does the landlord know about this?” I asked, still running my hand over the frame. “Do you think he’s going to get pissed?”
Thrax paused mid-conversation and glanced at me. “You mean me? No, I’m not pissed.”
My brows shot up. “What?” My heart stumbled. “You bought this house? I thought you rented.”
“At first,” he replied. “It’s ours now. No one’s living here after us.”
I froze.
Ours.
He said ours.
My throat tightened, heat prickling behind my eyes as though I might cry over two simple letters. Clearing my throat, I forced lightness into my voice. “Is this you preserving our memory? I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” I teased.
Instead of denying what I said, his dark eyes locked onto mine, a warning ringing behind them.
Whatever he was thinking, it pulled at me like gravity, as though he wanted to make me regret my joke in the most dangerous—and thrilling—way possible.
My chest fluttered as I stared right back, daring him and praying to the gods he followed through with whatever was going on in his head for me.
“I’m guessing you two are newly married,” the repairman chuckled, dragging us out of the trance. He looked between us, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “It’s always so sweet in the beginning.”
My lips parted to argue. “We are not—”
“How much did you say it was?” Thrax cut me off smoothly, shifting the man’s attention back to him.
I blinked at him as he conversed with the man, remembering the merchant’s cart, the same casual way he’d let that woman assume we were a couple. Shaking my head, I bit back a smile and walked inside to the kitchen.
Grabbing a glass of water, I perched on the stool, my back pressed against the counter as I sipped slowly. The quiet hum of their conversation faded until finally, the repairman packed up and left.
Thrax stood there for a moment, inspecting the new frame before closing the door, striding towards me. His steps were slow, his body impregnable even in something so ordinary as a plain long-sleeved shirt.
He was always in a coat whenever he went out, and a long-sleeved when indoors. It meant the cold still got to him one way or another even indoors.
“Do you ever feel your skin burning?”
“Yes,” he said simply, now standing in front of me. His hand plucked the cup from my fingers, and he drained the rest, his Adam’s apple shifting with each swallow. I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
“So you're only alive because of the curse. The curse is what’s heating up your body to fight back the cold,” I murmured to myself, then sighed. “Are the bodies outside gone?”
He nodded once, then pointed at my hair. “You have grey streaks showing.”
My heart dropped. “What?” My hand flew up to my head, fingers tugging through my strands as horror swelled in my chest. “Really? Where?”
“Why? You want to rip it out?”
I nodded, still frantically searching.
Thrax caught my wrist, gently tugging my hand away from my head. “It’s beautiful.”
“You sound like my mother.”
He let out a breathy laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Yeah?”
I nodded, smiling faintly. “She used to say it was unique. But those awful kids I was friends with…they compared me to some movie character that I hated. He had grey streaks too. I hated it growing up. I was always reminded of it so much that I dyed it the moment I was old enough.”
His hand slid up, smoothing through my hair before cupping my cheek with his palm. “Those kids should have gone on their knees for you.”