Chapter 19 Gardens and Ghosts #2
His words dredge up the memory Kai uncovered a few days ago, recalling my dad’s reddened cheeks and darkened eyes that were filled with disappointment and anger as he insisted I put on my coat to prevent my muscles from seizing after that particularly terrible basketball practice.
With that memory fresh in my thoughts, I go from a sticky, melting mess to an icicle as I nod my acquiescence.
Something flickers in Griffin’s gaze, confirming he notices my change, maybe even read my thoughts before I was able to set my shields—if I even am.
“Lie on your back,” he instructs.
Hesitancy bears down on me for a new reason: doubt that I’ll be able to get back up if I lie down.
A smile teases the corner of his lips. “You’ll be fine.”
He’s wrong.
The mat is blessedly cool against my exposed skin as I collapse, lying out like a starfish, every muscle limp.
Griffin chuckles and pats my knee. “Keep this leg straight.” He shifts to his knees, straddling the leg he’s told me to keep straight.
My heart skips a beat as the scents of eucalyptus, mint, and that unique smell that is solely him fills my lungs as he lifts my right leg, propping my calf against his bare chest.
His skin is warm against mine, and when he wraps a hand around my ankle, I’m a puddle all over again.
“Take a breath, and as you release it, I’m going to lean forward.”
My breath stutters out—awkward, clumsy, and far too telling—as the stretch tightens along the back of my thigh, reminding me that my endurance might earn gold stars, but my flexibility is failing.
Griffin senses my discomfort before I can voice it, pausing. “Good,” he says, running his hand over the length of my shin. “You’re doing great. Keep both shoulders on the mat and try to relax.” His palm smooths over my shin again, turning me into putty.
With my next exhale, he leans closer.
I’m acutely aware of every place that his body presses against mine.
Heat blooms low in my belly. Filthy thoughts of him touching me, easing the increasingly persistent ache he stokes with just a glance, become my sole focus.
He is too damn close.
Too damn far away.
“Let’s switch legs.” He brushes his hand down my shin a final time, and then he moves and collects my opposite leg in his large hands.
I pull in a breath and slowly release it, working to hide my wince when my muscles are even tighter on this side.
“Why didn’t you ever learn to swim?” he asks.
“Danbury doesn’t have a pool.”
“There weren’t rivers nearby? Or lakes?”
Panic catches in my chest, tightening my throat. I wonder if Kai shares all the memories he sees—including my near-drowning incident.
“People don’t give swimming lessons at lakes and rivers.”
“What about the people who raised you?”
The way he references my parents hits harder than I expect. “My mom hates the water and being cold, and my dad worked a lot.”
Griffin tilts his head. “Why’d they move to Vermont then? Daire said it’s a cold climate.”
I shrug. “They moved there before I was born.”
Griffin eases back, lessening the strain on my muscles. “What do you remember before you were adopted? Do you know who you lived with? How you got to Vermont?”
“I was only seven.”
His blue eyes pierce mine. “That’s not an answer.”
My own gaze narrows with accusation, feeling Lochlan’s stare. “Because he can’t tell if I’m telling the truth if I don’t answer the specific question?”
Griffin’s jaw feathers. “Because you’re observant. Cautious. And because you remembered every face in that damn prison.”
Every muscle in my body constricts. The comparison feels like an insult that my brain can’t let go.
“Did they give you anything while you were growing up?” he asks. “Capsules? Injections? Creams?”
My brow furrows. “Who? My parents?”
He scoffs. “You can hardly call them parents. Certainly not your godsdamn parents.”
That ache becomes a laceration.
Fire burns in my heart chest. I glare at him. “And according to everyone else in this room, I’m not a part of your Vestra, so why does it matter?”
Griffin grabs my hand and presses my palm to his chest. His eyes blaze, glowing a brighter shade of blue as that strange light emits below my fingers.
He lowers his face as he leans closer so there are mere inches between us.
“Tell me again that you’re not my Mate. Tell me you don’t feel me.
Want me. Fucking ache for me. Lie to yourself,” he murmurs.
“But don’t pretend your body doesn’t answer to me. ”
My molars grind, fury building as I stare into his eyes that no longer carry warmth—only cold truth and conviction. “I’m not your Mate.”
Rage burns in his gaze as he leans closer. “Tell me that again when the summer solstice rolls around, and my cock is the only thing that gives you any relief.” He peels away, rising with fluid grace, and strides out of the gym without a backward glance.
I slowly stand and cross the room in measured steps, trying my damndest to look unfazed.
“Breakfast is in twenty, and then we’re heading outside to test your elements again,” Lochlan says from behind me.
I raise my middle finger in response, then push through the door with what’s left of my strength.
My muscles feel like they’re made of cooked noodles, and one wrong step will have me toppling—but I don’t stop. I don’t even pause to look out the expansive windows at the top of the stairs as the sun rises, casting glitter across the lake.
With my bedroom door closed, I pace the length of the room, fury and humiliation wound so tight, it severs my breath and ability to think straight as Griffin’s taunt continues to slip to the front of my thoughts. It’s overwhelming. Consuming. A complete lie.
I want to break the windows that symbolize my cage here.
I want to scar the pristine surfaces with char marks.
The walls. The carpets. Every perfect thing in this room.
Instead, I growl—an inhuman, guttural sound—and collapse face-first onto the bed.
I’ve wanted to do this a hundred times over the past year and couldn’t because survival meant looking composed, knowing where everyone was, and never letting them see me fall apart.
I sprawl out, my arms spread wide, waiting for the feelings warring inside of me to dissipate into silence.
They don’t.
They grow.
My ears ring and my throat aches from unshed tears.
My focus shifts to concealing my emotions. Getting each reaction in check to prevent my own body from betraying me.
Slowly, reluctantly, I pull in a shaking breath and move to face the windows. I have no idea how long I’ve been up here. I can’t find it in me to care.
Snow sparkles as bright as the lake.
The sun is high in the turquoise sky.
Movement catches my eye. A massive white wolf paces the tree line, its agitation visible in every step. It stops suddenly, raises its head, and locks eyes with me across the distance. It’s still difficult to believe it’s Kai.
Without a reaction, he turns sharply and disappears into the forest.
A bird dives into the water, quickly followed by three more.
They remain beneath the surface for so long, I start to question if they were real.
They emerge carrying something massive between them, their wings dripping with water and ice.
It looks like a giant eel, at least ten feet long, only it’s lime green, with light pink fins.
A soft knock on my door startles me and reminds me I’ve likely exhausted their patience. The tiny act of rebellion pleases me more than it should. I cross the room, arming myself for an argument, but rather than an unapproving look, Scarlet’s on the other side.
Relief unspools as I take a step back, inviting her in. “You’re up early.” I usually don’t see her until after lunch.
“I had a meeting with Lochlan to discuss my return to the healing center tomorrow.”
“Did it go okay?”
“I’m beginning to think his element is paranoia.”
Laughter bursts from me—sudden, sharp, and welcome. A one-eighty from my emotions just moments ago.
She grins. “Breakfast’s ready, and there’s an archaic Elemental tradition where everyone waits for the female of the house to take the first bite.”
“What?”
“I’m sure they did something they deserve to suffer for, but I’m starving.” She gives me a guilty pout. “And, let’s be honest, Lochlan seems the type who needs to eat regularly to prevent homicidal tendencies. So in a way, I’m kind of doing my civic duty by getting you.”
My thoughts trace back to our first dinner and every meal since. “No offense, but that’s a really stupid tradition.”
“I think you mean brilliant.” Her gaze rakes over me again. “What did they do this time?”
“I just…” I don’t know how to tell her the extent of what happened. “This is all so overwhelming.”
“Maybe tomorrow, we should stay at my place. I have a two-bedroom apartment, and my guest room has your name on it. It doesn’t come with freshly made tarts or views of the lake, but it would give you space to breathe.”
Hope invades every one of my thoughts, already imagining a space that looks similar to my old apartment. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. We’ll mention it to Kai late tomorrow so they don’t send out a search party, but since they’ve been able to see that you’re not a threat to anyone’s safety, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to stay at Thornhurst if that’s where you want to be. Especially since you’re unbonded.”
“Yes,” I say instantly. “Absolutely yes.”
Her grin spreads into a smile that eases the gash Griffin left.
We leave the confines of my room arm in arm and head down the long hall, where the sight of the lake has me peppering her with questions about the giant creature the birds hauled out of the lake.
“You don’t have to worry about tidalfins,” Scarlet assures me after confirming the one I saw was small. “Lamperns and murkthreshers are what you have to watch out for.”
“There you are.” Gwen’s gaze locks with mine as we step into the kitchen, and as always, I know she sees entirely too much. Her gentle smile confirms it. “All these early mornings have you exhausted. I’ll make some more tea.” She moves toward the stove.
Scarlet tightens her grip as we near the doorway, sensing my reluctance.
Five sets of eyes sweep over me as we step into the dining room, but only two linger.
The table is set, platters covered—so unlike our usual quick breakfast at the kitchen island.
I avoid Daire’s and Griffin’s gazes as I take the seat between Scarlet and Daire, guilt seeping into my thoughts when I think of how hard Gwen worked to make all this food that has likely gone cold as I wallowed.
The soft hum of a platter lid being lifted draws my attention to Lief, who reveals a mountain of scrambled eggs.
He gives me a kind smile as he proceeds to uncover several more platters: moonberry tarts, fresh fruit, crusty bread, vegetables, and several quiches.
My stomach growls a little louder with each new scent.
“Breakfast was ready forty-five minutes ago,” Lochlan says without looking up from his crystal link.
An apology dances across my tongue, but never leaves my lips. After all, I had no idea they were waiting for me, because once again, no one has told me anything.
Daire stretches to reach for a platter, and the rich, smoky, cinnamon, clove scent of him settles my unease. The response is alarming, but I try not to think too hard about it as he offers me the moonberry tarts that I’ve become obsessed with.
Our gazes collide, and for a split second, something unspoken lingers. I look away before I can try to pretend what it means.
Platters circulate. Plates fill. And then, with painstaking clarity, I realize Scarlet wasn’t exaggerating—they don’t eat a single crumb until I do.
Conversation is stilted. Formal. Entirely forced. Scarlet leads most of it, working to engage Kai before she gives up and focuses on her food. I finish two cups of coffee and nearly half my plate before my stomach waves the white flag.
“You need to eat more,” Griffin says.
“He’s right,” Scarlet adds. “Our elements burn a lot of energy.”
“My stomach’s still adjusting,” I say.
A flicker of pressure against my skull has me peering around the table, stopping on Holden, who clears his throat and has the decency to look embarrassed. “I was checking your shields.”
I glare at him, my annoyance once again frost thin.
Lochlan sets down his glass before pinning his silver eyes on Scarlet and then me. “Are you both prepared for tomorrow?”
“My element was hibernating in an attempt to camouflage since I was raised on Earth.” My voice is flat as I rehearse the story for the hundredth time. “I still haven’t managed to get a handle on my element.”
They’re still constructing my full backstory, still crafting the lie I’m supposed to embody.
Holden and Daire have already been to Earth twice this week—searching for answers or maybe evidence. I want to ask what they’ve found. Why they don’t take my word.
But I don’t.
Because no matter how much time I spend in this house, surrounded by these men… they’re still strangers, and I don’t trust them any more than they trust me.