Chapter 29 #2
It was odd looking at someone so much older than me, but I knew Lightner years were different to Shadowkin years once you crossed the Veil. Everyone in Lucius looked young, healthy, happy.
“You don’t look a day over fifty.” I teased.
Nik shifted up to his elbow to look down at me, his mouth parted, and eyes wide like I’d just kicked him.
I blinked up at him, all fake innocence. “That was being generous too.”
His mouth fell open then and I couldn’t stop my smile from forming into a grin. The sound that tumbled from my lips shocked even me. I laughed again. With him.
“Oh, you’re feeling bold today,” he smirked. “Careful. I might start teasing back.”
Heat washed over me, prickling my skin. I shouldn’t enjoy the banter, but I saw the way his eyes flicked to my lips.
I knew he thought all this flying, and peace, and flowers might heal me, but I knew it wouldn’t.
So I’d give him some attention, pay my debt with honey coated words and lingering looks.
Even if part of me knew it wasn’t all an act.
I cleared my throat and sat up, too aware of how intense his gaze was. He never looked at me like I was something to pay for, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
He sat up beside me, hands falling between his bent knees.
Silence settled between us, softer this time.
Warm.
Dangerous.
“You laugh like you don’t let yourself do it often.”
Why does he always notice things I don’t want anyone to? It’s infuriating, and terrifying and strangely comforting.
I glanced sideways at him. “I don’t.”
“Do you want to?” He smiled too gently, waiting for my answer.
I swallow down that lump that’d been sitting in my chest for years. “The moment you want something, you risk losing it.”
Nik looked down to snatch a blade of grass, twirling it in his fingers. When his gaze found me again, it was kind . . . hopeful. It didn’t judge or push or demand. It felt like a hand reaching out into the darkest parts of me.
“Some things are worth the risk,” he murmured.
My chest tightened, not in fear this time, but something close to longing. What if he’s right? What if maybe, someday, I could want something again?
The thoughts flickered, small and unwelcome, but they glowed all the same.
~~~~~
Nik’s words followed me back to his house, they lingered while I bathed and changed, and they nestled in my chest as I walked back out into the living space. Steadily, I was getting used to the quiet, the peace . . . his peace.
I felt so relaxed, I didn’t even notice the hum that formed in my throat as I ruffled my hair with the towel.
Heat bloomed up my throat when I caught Nik’s gaze from across the room.
He was leisurely reclined in one of the single chairs, loose fitting grey pants, a white half buttoned shirt and a fishing book in hand.
My body responded in ways that were foreign to me. I didn’t like it.
The look he gave me was inquisitive, and I suddenly found myself wanting to apologise for taking up space. “I—
Something white in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I snapped my head towards it in time to see a tiny kitten round the side of the chair. “What . . . is that?”
Nik closed the book with a solid thud before rising from the chair. “She needed a home.”
I huffed softly. “Well, I hope you have time to look after it.”
The kitten didn’t hesitate. It padded straight towards me, tail high, like it had already decided to belong to me.
I frowned, glancing up at Nik. He wasn’t looking at the cat—he was watching me.
Suspicion pricked low in my chest as my gaze darted back to the small creature. “Didn’t take you for the cat type. I’ve seen too many animals starve from neglect once the novelty wears off.”
He grinned at the kitten then back to me. “Oh no, she’s yours. I have way too much work and teaching you how to fly and all.”
He casually brushed past me, his fresh pine scent trailing behind him as he moved to place the book on the kitchen table. I spun on my heel, following him, brow pinched and mouth slightly parted. “Nik, I can’t take care of an animal. I don’t even know how.”
The smug grin on his face irked and destroyed me in one foul swoop. His emerald eyes glittered as he glanced over my shoulder towards the white ball of fluff. “You’ll do fine,” he said, far too casually. “She’ll figure you out.”
I took a step towards him. “Nik—”
“Oh, would you look at that, I have an errand to run.” He was halfway across the room headed for the stairs before I could even comprehend words. I raced after him, stopping at the banister. “Nik. Nik, if you shut that door I swear—”
The front door closed with a solid click, and I stood alone at the top of the stairs in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he just did that. “I don’t even know what kittens eat!” I called after him.
The house was silent. The only sounds came from beyond the walls, down in the streets of Lucius. I turned to look at the kitten who had made herself at home on the lounge. She was cleaning in between her toes, legs awkwardly skewed as she preened herself.
If Nik wants a cat, that’s his business, but I certainly didn’t have the ability to keep something so small and fragile alive.
Without another thought, I moved into the kitchen, preparing myself a hot tea and some dinner. I was used to getting my own food, and Nik had insisted that I eat whatever and however much I liked.
I settled on some fresh greens, and cold chicken pieces that he’d cooked last night and left in the cold room. The kettle on the stove whistled, and I set about making the tea just as the kitten raced around the corner and collided with my legs.
“Watch out!” I cried, quickly putting my cup down on the counter. “I could have stepped on you.”
The kitten blinked up at me with its pale green eyes. I blinked back, and neither of us moved. After a moment, it mewed and stood on its back legs as it tried to reach for me.
I froze. “Oh, no you don’t. You stay over there.”
It sat back down, never once taking its gaze from me. It repeatedly cried until I couldn’t handle it anymore. “What do you want?” I asked gruffly.
Tiny paws climbed back up my leg, another meow singing from its pink mouth. Why was it looking at me like that? I couldn’t be responsible for . . . life.
I glanced around, my eyes locking onto my plate of food. Perhaps it could smell it. With shaking fingers, I selected a small morsel of chicken and leaned down to place it on the floor. Instantly the kitten devoured the food in seconds, looking up at me for more as it licked its lips.
She was so small.
I offered her another handful of pieces. She purred while she ate, and the little sound stirred something in my chest. After she finished, she looked up at me with content. “Stop purring. I’m not falling for it,” I said, trying my best not to smile.
She tilted her head, too trusting, too soft—everything I wasn’t. The lump in my chest pushed upward, sharp and familiar. I gathered my plate and tea and headed for my room, a space I could breathe—a space that felt like mine, if only for a short while longer.
I settled onto the bed, the tea beside me on the table. Moments later, the kitten came running around the corner and skidded to a stop. I flicked my gaze towards it, interested to see what it might do.
First, it looked around the room, sniffing the air. Then a bird outside the window caught its attention. I left it to explore while I finished my food, but the moment I put my fork down, it returned to the side of the bed.
“I can’t take care of you,” I whispered.
She mewed and climbed the blankets towards me anyway. Tears pricked the back of my eyes as she settled in at my side, curled in a heap of white fluff. She trusted me already? Silly creature.
Without thinking, I reached out, running my hand over her fur.
It was even softer than I imagined it would be.
She purred at my touch, and the tears welled again.
I couldn’t become attached to something that needed me.
I wasn’t staying here. And travelling on the road or drifting between places was no life for a cat.
Yet a small part of my heart had already been reserved for the tiny thing. “I think I’ll call you Wisp.”
As I stroked her fur, I looked towards the bedroom doorway. Nik still hadn’t returned, and it was obvious what he was doing. Forcing me to spend time with Wisp, no doubt hoping we would form some sort of bond.
He’d done so much for me already, and I hated that I didn’t know how to give anything back.
Old instincts crawled up my spine, whispering the same answer they always had.
My mind flicked to the kiss—his lips, the shock of it, the way it hadn’t felt like a transaction.
I’d done it because I didn’t know any better.
But now . . . the thought of kissing him again didn’t feel like payment.
It felt like something I might actually want.
I settled down into the bed, letting my aching heart and body sink into the softness. Wisp stirred, crawling higher to curl into the warm hollow of my arm. Her tiny breaths puffed against my skin. I scoffed and pretended not to like it as I pulled the blanket over the both of us.
It hit me then—hard and quiet—that since arriving in Lucius, I hadn’t once reached for my cinderleaf. Not even thought about it. That’s what my fingers had been twitching for. That phantom reaction of needing to find a release.
But things were different here. No panic clawing at my throat. No desperation for numbness. Just . . . breath.
I let out a long sigh, and stroked Wisp’s head with one finger. “Perhaps some things are worth the risk,” I whispered to no one.
But a part of me wished I could say it to Nik.