96. Summer
Chapter Ninety-Six
Summer
I wake up and stretch before getting out of bed.
There is a spring in my step that I know is from the time I’d spent with the stranger the previous night.
I’d felt the thrill of his jealousy and seen the way his body quaked with murderous intent.
The words we shared felt almost like a?.
.?. vow, and while that is terrifying, the truth is that I dreamt of him last night, and this morning my core aches for him.
After my morning routine in the bathroom, I pull my hair up and slip into my workout clothes before going downstairs.
“Morning,” Rafe says, pouring a second cup of coffee for me.
“Hey, are you coming to the gym?”
“Not this morning,” he says. I can feel the anxiety buzzing around him, and I watch him as I take a long sip of my coffee.
He looks down at his own steaming cup. “I had an idea about going back,” he says, his voice tight.
“Oh?” I ask, feeling my anxiety ramping up thanks to his caginess.
“I want to ask the headmaster about a muzzle.”
“What?” I ask, tensing, not liking the sound of that at all.
Rafe looks at me, his eyes dull. The light in them has dulled a little more with every hour that he hasn’t heard from Mira. “I want safeguards.”
“A?.?.?. muzzle?” I ask in shock. Muzzles are inhumane. They are diabolical.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” I say, blinking at him .
“No,” he says, straightening a little and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are you fucking crazy, Rafe?”
“What’s crazy is going back to school when I’m still?.?.?.” He struggles to find the words. “Getting used to things. Asking for something to keep others safe is not insane.”
I cross my own arms. “You didn’t wear a muzzle at All Souls.”
“That was different,” he growls.
“How?”
“It wasn’t overwhelming like school is, and Mira?.?.?.” He hesitates, pain flashing across his face.
“Mira?”
“I couldn’t think of much else when she was there,” Rafe says, his cheeks darkening.
“Yet you trusted yourself alone with her.” I know it’s unfair, and especially cruel to bring her up like this, but he cares for her. He wouldn’t have risked her.
“It’s not the same,” Rafe growls back.
“How?”
“It’s just not!” Rafe says, his voice getting louder.
“Yes, it is,” I push back. “Not only did you allow yourself to be alone with her, but you fucked her and let your inhibitions lower with her.”
“And she’s blown me off,” he snarls.
I soften a little. “First of all, you don’t know that. Second of all, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you fucked her and you didn’t worry that you’d eat her or whatever you’re worried about.”
“Because it was Mira,” he snarls again, this time louder.
“The fuck does that mean?”
“Stop changing the subject. I want safeguards,” Rafe insists, pushing away from the counter.
“Not that one. You will not muzzle yourself, Rafe.”
“I’m dangerous. Demons eat people. I eat people.”
“Did you eat Mira?” I blink. “Uh, wait. Not in that way?.?.?. You know what I mean.”
“I bit her. A lot,” Rafe says, flushing a deep red.
I quirk a brow. “Okay. But you didn’t eat her. Again, I am not talking about eating her out because?—”
“Can we stop talking about Mira?”
“As soon as you stop being a moronic asshole.”
“I’ll just leave, then.”
“Leave if you want, but you will be going back to school.”
“With safeguards,” Rafe hisses.
“Rafael, there is no way I will ever let you wear a muzzle.”
Rafe storms past me and stomps upstairs, and I huff when I hear his bedroom door slam. I leave the house in a similarly sour mood, and I think Max can tell when I arrive at the gym.
“Sparring?” Max asks as I step into the gym, the cold AC blasting me in the face.
I nod, and I walk through to the sparring room.
“How are your muscles?” he asks.
“Not bad,” I say, bending into a deep stretch.
I feel Max’s eyes on me and turn my head to meet his gaze. “You’re still building your strength back up. Don’t push too hard.”
I straighten and face him. “Hey. Did I make you uncomfortable yesterday?” After our almost-kiss yesterday, it felt like Max might be a little uncomfortable with the situation. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward between us.
“Me? When?” he asks, quirking a brow.
“When we were on the couch. I know we were close, but?—”
“No,” Max says, shaking his head.
“Okay.”
“Why do you ask?”
“You just seemed it,” I say, lifting my leg and reaching back to grab the back of my ankle, stretching out my leg.
“Were you?” he asks. “Uncomfortable?”
I shake my head and get into a basic fighting stance. The last time I was here, Max mentioned he wanted to do some more hand-to-hand combat.
We spar for a little over an hour, and surprisingly, I manage to keep up with him pretty well.
“Good,” Max says, barely winded. “Your strength is coming back.”
I nod, running my fingers through my hair as I catch my breath.
Max stretches, cooling down. “Another few hand-to-hand sessions and we’ll move back to weapons, combining the moves.
” He reaches out and pinches my upper arms, feeling for the muscles that are slowly rebuilding.
“Make sure you ice. Your muscles vanished over the summer, and we’re working double time to get you back into shape.
” Max pauses, working his hands up my arms to my shoulders, his strong fingers kneading away the tension. “I like being friends first.”
“Me too,” I say, gently pulling away to stow my sai again, and I’m about to leave when I pause at the door, hesitating. I glance at Max, who is still watching me.
“Sum? Is there something wrong?” he asks, searching my gaze.
“Rafe wants a muzzle,” I say, exhaling deeply.
“He’s backsliding,” Max says, his eyes flashing green with annoyance.
I nod. “He’s saying he won’t come back to classes without one.”
Max’s jaw tenses, the muscles feathering. “He’s decided that’s the reason Mira blew him off, as if that makes any sense at all. He’s such an idiot.”
“Will you talk to him?”
His face softens. “Of course. He’s my friend too.”
“He’s your boyfriend,” I say with a smile, feeling the burden lessen a little.
“You’re still a dick,” Max says, flipping me off.
I blow him a kiss as I leave the gym, but by the time I get home, I am irritated again. I slam the door to my room so that Rafe knows I’m pissed and pace my room, furious about the whole situation.
My phone pings.
Unknown
What’s wrong?
I continue to pace.
Summer
Nothing.
I keep pacing, but then I slam into an invisible wall of muscle and strong, warm arms wrap around me.
“Princess.”
“Hi,” I say grumpily, looking up at him .
“Hi,” he says, tucking me against him. “What is it?”
“Rafe,” I exhale, the safety I feel with him allowing the walls I created from anger to come crashing to the ground.
“Tell me,” he says, cupping my cheek.
“He wants a muzzle.”
“Why?” he asks, his frown deepening.
I exhale. “Because he says he’s dangerous.”
“Is he?” the stranger asks, tilting his head.
“What? No!” I say, pulling back to look up at him.
“Then why does he think he is?” he asks, watching me.
“Because he’s a moron,” I snap and push out of his arms to start my pacing again.
“There might be more to it than that,” the stranger says, catching me and pulling me back against his chest, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
I grumble and slip out of his arms, sitting on my bed.
“It is odd for him to suddenly insist on this, so I wonder what prompted it,” he says, standing over me.
“He thinks Mira blew him off.” I shrug. “I don’t know if that has anything to do with it.”
He sits next to me, and I’m comforted as the mattress dips beneath his weight. “Did Mira help keep him stable?”
I shrug, “I thought so. But then she just kind of disappeared. She’s completely ghosted him,” I say with a shrug.
He pauses for a long moment. “They were very attached at All Souls.”
I nod. “I know. It doesn’t add up.”
He slides his hand into mine and squeezes, drawing my attention to him. “Would you like me to find her?”
“You would do that?” It had never occurred to me to ask him to find her, but a male with such power who single-handedly created the Nexus mainframe would have no issue doing it.
“If you ask me to, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, little fae.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles.
“Thank you.”
The stranger nods. “Talk to him about it. Rafe has spent his life believing demons are enemies he was created to fight.” He brushes his thumb over my knuckles. “He may not be a monster to you, but that may not be his truth. ”
“You speak from experience?” I ask, wishing I could truly see his eyes.
“Yes,” he says, his lips twitching.
“You’re not a monster.”
“You are very much in the minority in that opinion.”
“Does that matter to you?” Does he care what others think of him? How he is perceived? “How everyone else sees you.”
“No,” he says, and there is only truth there. “But it matters to me how you see me,” he adds.
“It matters to me how you see me too,” I concede.