Chapter 4
Ada
By the time Cyrinda unpacks and freshens up from her and Tallie’s journey from the West Coast, the rest of us, including the cats, have moved into the kitchen nearer to the snacks and drinks.
At Cyrinda’s request, I set out wine and spirits.
Beer is in the fridge. Dinner tonight will be roast chicken and vegetables, so I start spatchcocking the whole chickens and rough chopping root vegetables.
I bought a blackberry pie and fresh bread from Pearlhouse Pastries, a local bakery, so all I’ll have to do is slice those.
It’s an easy dinner, just more than I usually prepare at once.
Niven offers to help but I wave him away.
When I begin wiping off the counter after setting the oven timer, there’s a knock at the door.
My throat constricts, forcing me to gasp for breath.
My guests’ chatter stops abruptly when they hear me.
He’s finally here. The last one to arrive.
A sudden dizzy spell overtakes me. The chef’s knife I had picked up drops from my hand, clanking onto my work surface.
I grip the kitchen counter for support as the edges of my vision darken.
A chair noisily scoots back and rapid footfalls cross the kitchen floor.
A warm hand wraps around my shoulder, propping me up and forcing me to blink up at its owner.
Niven stands beside me, a deep-set grimace stamped on his face.
My head snaps toward the direction of the door again at a second set of knocks, more tentative this time.
“Do you want me to answer the door? You shouldn’t meet him out there alone,” Niven asks, his tone on the edge of menacing. He knows what happened, of course.
“I don’t think I could bear an audience for our reunion,” I murmur, my voice strained.
“Okay, bring him back here as soon as you can. We’ll keep him away if he starts bothering you.”
I nod silently and then force myself to calmly walk out of the kitchen into the foyer.
I push my hair from my face and smooth it as best I can.
Alarmed at my close call, I realize I’m still wearing my apron just in time and swiftly pull it off, tossing it over the banister at the base of the stairs.
Only a few feet and a door separate me from Norrell, the male who shattered me.
Who I think about nearly every day. Who often stars in my dreams, whether good or bad. It’s time to put an end to that.
I take one last breath to compose myself and blank my expression, steeling my nerves.
I need to be that brave and courageous Ada who can take on anything.
Slow and steady, I open the door. Norrell stands there, shirtless as he always preferred, looking almost the same as I remember. The version of him burned into my mind.
But not quite.
He’s changed in ways that make me realize the male I loved doesn’t exist anywhere but in my memory.
He’s aged. We both have. There are more lines on his face, maybe a little too deep for his years.
His eyes look colder, harder, yet their ice blue gaze alights on me with something like apprehension.
His lips are pressed thin, almost frowning.
I remember them. One point slightly higher than the other on his top lip.
A small scar carves into his cheek. Something new that part of me wonders where it came from.
I absorb every detail, catalog every difference, while I’m frozen, mute, my brain hijacked by the opposing needs for self-preservation and to swoon in his presence.
Maybe we’re both stunned in place, neither of our brains cooperating.
Maybe he truly wasn’t expecting this plan to work, even though he’s the one who masterminded this messy scene.
The jagged, painful tension rises between us the longer we both stare silent and still.
But I refuse to make it easier on him. I can’t, in the moment, anyway.
His throat visibly bobs, drawing my eyes to it and the strain in his jaw, his look of discomfort.
Finding the will to move again, I swing the door open a little wider. “Norrell, it’s been a while. Why don’t you come in.” I hear my voice, sedate, quiet, not giving anything away, saying these words of its own accord.
As he steps past me into the house, I get an even better look at him.
He’s as towering as I remember. I’m a tall gal, but the top of my head barely reaches his chin.
He’s bulkier now, somehow having gained a broader musculature.
Not that he was ever anything but strong, but not like this.
His coloring is as striking as ever, meant to blend into the snow and ice of the Arctic.
His skin looks almost glaucous in its bright cast of pale blue-gray.
He wears a beard now and the white hair on his head hangs a little longer, too.
The equally silvery-white pelt covering his chest, arms, and shoulders is fuller.
It suits him, it’s just different. Reminding me he’s different. A stranger.
“Ada. You look…” he starts, then his voice tapers off.
His mouth lifts into a feeble smile. Feigned.
Like it came out wrong. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here. It is generous of you. More than generous. More than… I deserve from you.” His voice, a low rumble, like the start of an avalanche, sounds too self-assured for this to be a true attempt at an apology.
I shrug. This is more than he deserves. He’s simply stating a fact. I’m not going to refute it out of some misguided convention of politeness. “Your room is the third on the left. Dinner will be ready in an hour,” I inform him as I push the door closed and walk back to the kitchen.
As I round the corner, you could hear a pin drop.
Clearly, they were eavesdropping, but I can’t blame them.
This is top shelf drama. Ex-mates are rare.
Meeting again under such onerous circumstances and after so many years…
unheard of. Norrell had to make sure there’s an audience of VIPs present to witness this shitshow, so I guess I’ll give him what he wants.
“Our final housemate has arrived. Mayhap he’ll join us for dinner,” I report back to them as I check the oven.
Everything looks good, so I pour a glass of wine for myself and sit with them at the table.
I’ve felt Niven’s eyes on me this whole time, so I give him a thin smile to let him know I’m okay.
“I can’t believe the North Clan sent a representative. I don’t think I’ve met any of them before. If I didn’t know better, I’d find it hard to believe yetis really exist,” Cyrinda notes with a snort as she pets Vanny, who has made himself comfortable in her lap.
“He may as well be a unicorn,” I remark, detached, not addressing anyone in particular.
“Unicorn! Humans have such wild imaginations,” Cyrinda snorts.
“You never met his family?” Niven asks tentatively.
“We talked about it. But… it didn’t work out that way,” I respond after taking a long sip from my glass.
“You didn’t need to show him to his room? Give him a tour of the house?” Tallie asks, sounding confused. She must not be caught up on the gossip.
“He knows his way around,” I answer too fast, almost cutting her off.
Tallie’s eyebrows fly up to her hairline. “Oh, that’s why…” She doesn’t finish her thought. I nod as she connects the dots.
“And he decided he wanted to stay here? Is he crazy? Ashes, why didn’t you tell him to stick his tongue on a frozen polar bear’s ass and shove it?
Make him sleep outside! Or better yet, on your most uncomfortable couch so he has a backache for the next three weeks,” Cyrinda exclaims, sounding gratifyingly irate on my behalf.
“I didn’t intend to invite him. But since I did and he accepted, I felt I couldn’t revoke the invitation because of my role on the town council.
What if I did and then he decided not to attend?
I will set aside my feelings. It’s just a few weeks, I’ll manage,” I attempt to clarify, my excuses sounding feeble as everyone stares at me, skepticism written plain on their faces.
“I agree with Cyrinda. You’re being too nice. He’s up to no good,” Aurelia pipes up, pointing accusingly with the hand she isn’t using to scratch under Earl Grey’s chin.
“Bullseye. Exactly what I was thinking. I knew I liked you for a reason,” Cyrinda jokes, winking at her. Aurelia rolls her eyes like she’s used to her antics.
“Has he contacted you at all? Asked if you’d be okay with this?” Niven questions.
“Not once. I haven’t spoken to him since he left. This was a surprise I didn’t need, considering everything else,” I respond honestly.
“Can we ice him out? Pun intended.” Cyrinda snickers.
I huff a laugh and shake my head at her joke. “I wish, but no we shouldn’t. We’re lucky anyone from his clan agreed to help. They are no strangers to the fae living so far north. I don’t want to compromise that, if it turns out his help is somehow conditional on him staying here.”
Sensing him before I see him, I look over as Norrell strides through the doorway. Hopefully, he wasn’t listening to us, but it’s feasible given his superb hearing. Even if he heard, I only spoke the truth. I’d say it again to his face.
“Good evening, everyone. I am Norrell Snowstrider,” he introduces himself as he steps toward the table.
“We figured,” Cyrinda retorts, apparently not taking my plea to heart.
Niven stands up and extends a hand to him. “I’m Niven Whitehall, a representative from the New York City coven and a lead investigator in the hunt for the three fugitives. I’m also an old friend of Ada’s from our academy days.”
Norrell seems to size him up but shakes his hand in a friendly manner anyway. “I do not know if I remember her mentioning you, but I am glad she has a friend here,” he answers in a way that feels too territorial for my liking.