Chapter 11 Comfort and Chaos
COMFORT AND CHAOS
Exhaustion is a heavy blanket that I want to stay buried beneath, but someone keeps calling my name.
Adrenaline spikes through my veins.
I shove my hand under the pillow, searching for the scrap of plastic I’d sharpened into my best opportunity for defense—but soft linen brushes my fingers instead of rough, pilled polyester.
Panic ensnares every fiber of my being—my heart catapulting into a race my lungs struggle to match as I look around the foreign room that looks similar to Scarlet’s, only everything is bigger.
“Easy. You’re okay.” Daire’s voice is both a balm and a trigger.
I’m still here.
He’s still here.
I wasn’t dreaming.
Daire’s the only one here, watching me with those amber eyes. I try not to study his angular jaw, or the slight cleft in his chin.
Sunlight dances across the room. I have no idea what time it is or what happened last night after the library.
I grip the blankets and sit up. “How long was I out?”
“About eighteen hours.” He studies me. “You’re surprised?”
“Usually, I’m out for a few days.”
“You’ve lost consciousness before from using your element?”
“Yesterday, at the healing center, was the first time I haven’t passed out afterward.”
“You used a fraction of your power at the healing center.” He runs a hand through his dark hair.
“I’d guess it’s because your recovery was slower on Earth, and you weren’t fully healed yesterday.
” He stands from the chair beside my bed and slowly stretches as though he hasn’t moved in hours.
My heart flips like a pancake that hasn’t entirely set as I realize he’s wearing the same clothes, leaving a mess in my thoughts.
He stayed with me.
Emotions tangle in my chest. Was it to protect me or ensure I wouldn’t escape?
“I was going to shower and return some calls for work. Will you be okay being alone for a while?”
I nod.
“This is your room, by the way.” He gestures toward the expansive space, resembling something from a magazine. Light walls. Glistening chandeliers. Everything pristine.
My thoughts turn back to the formal dining room at my parents’ house, where my mom visibly grew uneasy when I set foot in it as a child, as if I would ruin its perfection with my presence alone.
“Your washroom is through there.” He points at an adjoining door.
I sweep over the space again, taking in the massive stone fireplace across from me, the expanse of windows, and the overstuffed cream couches. It’s all so much—too much.
“I... I don’t need this much space. I...” I shake my head.
Daire stares at me for a silent moment before tucking his hands into his pockets.
“There are clothes in the closet if you want to change or shower. If you need anything, press that button on the far left.” He gestures to an array of switches and buttons beside the bed, then drifts to the door.
“I’ll be back.” He closes the door behind him, leaving me in the too-large room that my mind somehow convinces me just got smaller with the door closing.
I peer around, looking for any cameras or threats before my restless muscles demand that I move.
I shove back the covers, grateful to discover I’m also wearing yesterday’s clothes. I brace for the dizziness and aches that always follow when I create fire, but to my surprise, they’re dim echoes instead of screams. Still, I feel hollow. Spent. Like the fire didn’t burn from me, but through me.
The washroom is more palace than practicality.
A large, overstuffed cream-colored ottoman is in the center of the enormous bathroom, but that barely catches my attention because the wall of windows and the turquoise sky have already demanded my gaze.
A giant claw-foot tub sits in front of the windows.
To the left of the tub is another wall of glass, encasing what has to be the world’s largest shower.
There’s no toilet. Even stranger, I don’t feel the need to empty my bladder despite being out so long.
I brace my hands on the counter, trying to ground myself as I question my sanity again. Slowly, I meet my lavender stare in the mirror as doubts race through my head. How can this—any of this—be real?
I open the wide shower door, marveling at the space and clean scent.
The allure of showering alone already makes this the best shower of my year.
Then, I turn on the jet sprays, and it quickly becomes the worst shower of my life, as the pressure of a firehose coming from five different directions nearly takes me to my knees.
It takes an alarmingly long time to figure out how to tame the spray and even longer to figure out how to use the soap and shampoo dispensers that aren’t automatic and don’t have simple buttons, but I don’t even care because for the first time in what feels like years, I feel clean.
Luxury continues into the closet. Dozens of perfectly folded items of clothing, soft and new. Jeans, stacks of sweatpants, and rows of tops in colors I never let myself choose.
Back in my old apartment, I had a single rod of thrift store finds.
My mom would disapprove if she knew I was a guest at a place like this and was wearing sweatpants.
Appearance has always meant a great deal to her, but considering I didn’t come here by choice and unexpectedly ran from a wolf yesterday before being accused of treason, impressing anyone is at the very bottom of my list of concerns.
I’m surprised that the light gray pants fit me so well, but my shock grows when I select a simple yellow bra and find that it fits me perfectly. The long-sleeved black tee I pull on is as soft as cashmere and fits me just as well as the other items.
There is an entire row of shoes—heels I’d never wear, boots, flats, and sneakers, all new and perfectly lined up. All of them my size.
It’s unnerving.
It’s impossible.
I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to organize my thoughts and questions into lists, prioritizing the most concerning ones, beginning with Griffin’s ability to read my mind and Lochlan’s belief that I’m a traitor.
Normally, I wouldn’t care what someone thinks of me, but my people-pleasing skills, which were an innate part of my personality prior to going to prison, were paved over by survival skills.
Convincing Allowing people to think I was a monster, took the target off my back—most days.
However, I know firsthand how fear strips love, humanity, and sense, bringing out the cruelest sides of people.
I work to shove aside the unwanted thoughts of my parents by pressing my thumbs against the middle knuckle of my first and second fingers.
The door clicks, making me jump. Griffin appears in the doorway, leaving the door ajar, a detail I innately appreciate. Before prison, I was never claustrophobic, but now, even the largest of enclosed spaces are too small.
His blue eyes slip over me. “How are you feeling?”
The memory of him changing into a fantasy creature is all I can see when I blink.
“I wouldn’t hurt you.” His jaw tightens. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be comforting. On one hand, it means I’m safe from him. On the other, it reminds me that he has no choice in the matter—none of us do.
“How did you shift yesterday? Can you do that whenever you want?”
He flashes a smile that hits too many of my nerves.
Everything about him screams trust.
It’s terrifying.
“You can trust me,” he says quietly.
“How do I stop sending you my thoughts?”
His bright blue eyes study me. Turn me inside out. “Practice.”
I release a shallow sigh at the ambiguous answer.
“You do belong here. You belong here. With us,” he tells me, reading another one of my damn thoughts.
You belong. Two words I’ve longed to hear for so long that they trigger an ache in my chest.
I hate that they’re coming from a stranger. Hate it even more that I want to hear them again. I’ve never belonged. Not at school. Not at home. I always felt like I was taking up the wrong kind of space.
“Except no one seems sure of that,” I remind him.
“I’m sure,” he says, moving closer. “And I can shift at will.”
Hints of eucalyptus and mint tickle my nose. “Does it hurt?”
He pauses as though considering his answer, then shakes his head. “It feels like a deep stretch.”
“And Kai can shift...”
“Our entire Vestra can,” he confirms.
“I thought Daire said—”
“Some Elementals are able to shift. All of us can.”
“Are you all different animals?”
He nods again, but there’s a finality in his gaze that tells me he won’t be telling me what they become.
I accept that because this is only the beginning of my questions.
A heavy silence stretches between us, filled with all the questions I don’t know how to voice yet—and several I’m not sure I’m ready to ask.
“You must be starving,” he says.
My brain struggles to move past the fact that he can read my thoughts and turn into a mythological creature with claws and teeth the size of my hands, and believes I’m his Mate.
“I know you’re my Mate,” Griffin insists.
“What if it’s a mistake?”
He closes the distance between us and slowly lowers so we’re eye to eye, his scent wrapping around me—cool, clean, and entirely disarming. “The abilities between Mates differ between Vestras. We won’t know what ours are until the bond is complete.”
Scarlet’s taunt about how the bond forms has heat flooding my body.
“But we realized this last night, while you were unconscious.” He takes my hand gently and presses my palm against his chest. Warmth blooms under my skin, and a faint glow flares between my fingers.
Fear and surprise have me pulling away, but Griffin covers my hand, keeping my palm pressed against him.
“I’m burning you!”
He shakes his head. “No. Look.” He lowers our joined hands mere millimeters, revealing there isn’t a single trace of ash on his shirt.
“What is it? Is it me or you?”