Chapter 40 Promise and Paradise #2
“It depends.” Daire stretches his legs out, and I briefly imagine curling up against his side and napping before he continues, “A memory. A moment of clarity. Once, it took Holden’s voice for an hour.”
My gaze collides with Holden’s before ricocheting to Daire.
“It’s always temporary and usually harmless,” he tells me with a smirk.
Usually.
“Ready?” Kai’s voice is a melodious taunt.
“You go first,” I say.
Griffin’s grip above my knee becomes a soft caress as he chuckles.
Kai grins, then flicks his wrist. The obsidian disc spins faster than I expect, hovering just above his palm. The runes flash, changing colors and shifting symbols, until finally they slow to a stop.
A faint glowing projection in silver script appears. ‘Share something you’ve never told anyone.’
Kai grunts out what I think is the whisper of a laugh. “The first time I shifted, I thought I’d touched teal basin, and was hallucinating.”
“I thought I’d been spelled the first time I shifted,” Holden admits.
“That was probably a safe assumption,” I tease, before considering if my words sound like a threat, but to my surprise, genuine and easy laughter fills the glider.
I want to ask what he shifts into, what they all can shift into, but I’m too afraid to fracture the lightness in this moment, so I pocket the question as Kai hands Griffin the disc.
Griffin flicks the obsidian piece into a rapid spin. The runes flash in different hues, shifting out of focus before they settle into glowing silver script. ‘Trade a thought with the person sitting beside you.’
Kai shakes his head. “I don’t want that front-row seat.” His gaze lands on me.
Lochlan snickers.
Heat prickles my skin, but intrigue has my spine straightening at the chance to see inside Griffin’s head when I’m constantly sending him my thoughts. “How does it work? Are we mindwalking?”
“More of a mind-link,” Lochlan says, lowering his crystal link. “Only, it’s an unfiltered transfer. The disc picks the thought.”
My heart races. “Remind me never to play this again.”
Griffin flashes that trademark grin that feels like it was made just for me. “Place your hand on the disc when you’re ready.”
I pray it chooses a happy, bland memory as I tentatively raise my hand, too intrigued and terrified to back out.
The disc is cold beneath my fingers, and then it pulses.
Suddenly, my focus shifts. I’m no longer in the glider.
I’m standing in the gym at Mysthaven, the air thick with tension—and then the rain-on-jasmine-and-wild-honey scent pulls my full attention to the door, and I realize I’m looking through Griffin’s eyes as I step inside.
His chest tightens, an undeniable pull propelling him forward, as desire stirs through him, a torturous tide that never wanes.
He calls me over to the red mats, but rather than starting with our separate stretches, he pins me, giving me a playful bite on my neck that has me giggling.
He takes a deep lungful of my scent and moans before tracing his tongue up the column of my neck.
Fingers drag across my his scalp, pulling him closer to me, lifting that weight in his chest. He shifts to his knees, muttering a charm that makes my clothes as fragile as dried leaves that he discards with a few gentle tugs, leaving my breasts exposed as his heart hammers loud and painful in his chest.
I’m staring up at him with wonder and adoration, his name a whisper on my lips as I plead with him to touch me.
To him, it’s a lyric. A song that makes his blood thrum to an entirely new beat, and then he’s spreading my thighs and dragging his tongue across my entrance and up my clit.
I moan, the sound as hypnotizing as it is consuming.
He does it again, and again, urgency building as desire bleeds into something so much stronger, something undeniable and ancient. Something completely right.
Then—just like that—it vanishes, and I’m back in the glider.
I blink as my pulse hammers, my chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. My body still feels like it’s there—in the memory that wasn’t even mine but felt so damn real it could be.
Beside me, Griffin’s gaze finds mine, and the heat in his gaze threatens to consume my breath. He swallows once, hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I don’t suppose you care to share with the class?” Holden taunts.
Griffin’s smirk finally returns, but it’s different, not just confident, but knowing—ensuring my thought was as scandalous as his.
“You know those aren’t the terms,” Griffin says, handing me the disc. “Your turn.”
It’s surprisingly heavy, and my heart still feels unbalanced after witnessing—feeling—Griffin’s want for me, and the slight zing of terror that this disc might reveal entirely too much.
I slide my finger across the top, praying the game doesn’t demand more than I’m willing to give.
The runes flash and glitter before stopping. ‘Tell the individual across from you their best trait.’
I glance up, meeting Lochlan’s silver stare. His gaze narrows slightly—not in irritation, but something quieter. Curiosity? A challenge?
Daire sniggers as his fingers that are laced with mine tighten. “We know it’s not going to be your bedside manner.”
“Or your messages,” Griffin adds, grinning.
The others chuckle, though I’m unaware of the inside joke because I’ve still not received a single message from Lochlan outside of the group message the day of the attack, and it was sent to Griffin.
I take a slow breath, taking in the past several weeks, to our first meeting, to every time Lochlan has stepped in, stayed behind, and steadied me.
The way he observes everything, moving pieces like a chess master.
I recount our numerous conversations, his warnings, and hours of practicing and training that pushed me to be better.
My gaze falls to his chest because it’s easier than meeting his gaze. “You’re very protective of those you care about.” It’s admittedly vague, but altogether honest. He’s made it extremely clear that the Vestra and those living at Mysthaven are his top priority. It’s something I respect deeply.
The glider is silent for a beat before I push the Fatespin Disc into Daire’s hand. “Your turn.”
The game continues, allowing me to witness firsthand the jibes and balance the Vestra offer to one another, a seamless tapestry that has been woven through time with evident strands of trust, respect, and love that has me appreciating these stolen hours far more than I expected, until Lochlan has to take a call, pausing the game.
I stare through the transparent roof, mesmerized by the color of the sky and the ease in my shoulders.
Contentment relaxes my muscles further, lulling me into a sense of safety I don’t recall ever experiencing.
A warm brush against my cheek startles me awake, my eyes jerking open at the same time. I cower and raise both hands. I work to take in my surroundings: the multiple bodies, the blinding glow, the unfamiliar pressure against my back.
“You’re safe, Spitfire.” Daire’s voice is a soft caress. “It’s us.”
I try to calm my stampeding heart and nod, still working to orient myself, realizing too late I’m lying across the seat of the glider, my shoulders and head in Daire’s lap, and my feet in Griffin’s.
“We’re in Portelina,” Daire says, his voice a low murmur against the quiet hum of the glider as it slows to a stop. I feel the attention of the others, no doubt taking in my reaction and racing pulse.
I sit up slowly, wondering how long I slept and simultaneously wishing I hadn’t.
Lochlan doesn’t move until I meet his silver eyes, gleaming unnaturally bright in the dim light of the glider, like polished steel catching moonlight.
Without a word, he presses a hand to the doors, triggering the soft click of the lock.
Warm, sticky air floods inside, thick with the scent of damp earth, citrus, and something floral.
It looks like we’ve been transported to a rainforest. The terrain is lush, almost wild in its beauty.
The trees are nothing like those in Mysthaven—thick and towering, their massive fan-like leaves overlapping in a densely green canopy that practically blocks the moons.
Clusters of ferns taller than me block much of my view to the left, and bright orange flowers bloom from the vines twisting between the fronds, their trumpet-shaped petals so perfect I lift a finger to see if they’re real. Griffin catches my hand before I can.
“The front yard is filled with poisonous plants,” he warns, keeping my hand as he spins me around to face a terracotta-hued villa.
It’s stunning.
Not in the grand, imposing, and stately way Mysthaven is with its stark, heavy stone and towering archways.
Instead, the house is alive with arched windows, brightly colored shutters, and cascading vines climbing the walls that are dotted with flowers in shades of deep reds and purples.
The roof glimmers a deep blue and balconies and terraces jut at odd angles, draped in sheer, billowing fabrics and more plants, as if the house itself is part of the land.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my voice soft, as if I speak too loudly, I might shatter whatever spell is cast over the property.
“Wait until you see the inside,” Griffin says, leading me forward.
Like at Mysthaven, the lock requires a handprint before the doors crack open. Cool air rushes out, tinged with the scent of spiced tea, vanilla, and citrus. Inside, color and warmth wrap around me—deep jewel tones, rich velvets, and woven tapestries.
Thick wooden beams overhead and oversized furniture draped in colorful throws, invite me further inside. A massive stone fireplace dominates the room, a fire already dancing in the hearth.
“The kitchen’s through here,” Griffin says, nodding toward the wide arch.
It’s compact, especially compared to Mysthaven, with bright copper cookware hanging above the stove and countertop.
A breakfast nook and curved bench are nested under a wide window, and a long wooden table fills most of the space.
“And the bedrooms are upstairs.” He nods to the staircase in the corner. “I’ll show you your room.”
A short hall is at the top of the curving steps, with only a few doors.
Griffin opens the door at the end of the hall. A bed dominates the middle of the room, easily the size of two king-sized mattresses, swathed in gold tones, and surrounded by a plush dark blue rug, making me think of an island.
“There are only three rooms,” Griffin says, looking suddenly uncertain as his eyes dance across my face. “Considering what happened, I think I can speak for Daire when I say neither of us will be able to sleep unless we’re with you.”
I eye the giant bed, knowing we could easily sleep in it without touching. “I’m a restless sleeper,” I warn.
“We can handle that.” He grins. “Are you tired, or do you want to see what makes Portelina one of our favorite spots?” The way his eyes shine with anticipation and his smile broadens makes my heart flutter.
“Show me.”