He let me sleep on the little cot on the far wall. He made hot tea from the firestone at the center of the home. Aside from the small bed and fireplace, only a table and one wooden chair reside within the circular room.
I can’t stay here for long. The Brotherhood keeps no secrets from their king. Every secret Ruiner’s ever kept for me whispers through my thoughts, but that’s not the point. If I’m found in the home of a Brotherhood, they’ll report me at once.
I push out the thin shutter from the window a fraction of an inch. Its hinges give way with an angry, shrill sound that has my heart trembling with anxiety. The window is just a small circle, barely larger than my head, fitting the aesthetic of the little adorable cottage perfectly. I can’t push the shutter open much, or I’ll draw unwanted attention. The road outside is a mess of people milling about. Through the thin slit of the opening, I can see all the tradesmen and hustlers doing their daily deals. It won’t be any less crowded when nightfall comes.
Especially on a festival night.
A deep breath enters my lungs, and I start a counting process to calm my nerves. Another big breath, and I’m starting to feel steady. Another one and my hands no longer shake at my sides.
Somewhere between the fourth and tenth breath, the fucking door flings open.
The sunlight blinds the figure into an intimidating silhouette. His horns reach up, threatening to slice open the heavens with his towering height alone. With his next step, his features are revealed and captivating, starry eyes now glare my way.
“Moth-er-fucker,” he whispers to himself.
I yank the window closed with a loud clack. My wide eyes never look away as he walks fully in with a smile cutting across his lips and very casually pushes the door closed behind him,blocking the exit.
An unsteady tremble catches my hands. I fist my fingers hard into my palm to stop the anxiety from rising back up. Mentally, my mind is racing to access all the possibilities of how I can wound him. But there’s nothing of use in the little home. Unless I can somehow shove a chair up his ass and run away, I’m fucked.
“I’ve never met someone who had such an affinity for dying, Bellatrix,” he says, striding into the room one step after the other like an animal about to strike. As he comes closer, his hands drop to his black belt, the one that holds more knives than I can even see. Casually, he unhooks the clasp there. He pulls the leather through the loops and drops it on the chair just near the window. Far too close to me for my liking.
My mouth turns dry, and it isn’t lost on me that I just embarrassed a shapeshifter in front of the highest noblemen in this kingdom.
I follow his movements as he reaches behind his horns and pulls. The white shirt inches up along every hard line of his torso until he pulls it off entirely. Ever so casually, he pushes off his boots. And then his hands drop once more to his waist, his eyes glinting viciously as he holds my gaze.
His black pants lower, and he steps out of them. He’s nude before my very eyes, and I can’t look away as a thousand terrible thoughts rip through my mind.
Real fear drops into me. Every man I’ve ever met has hurt me in some way or another. Synder Steel is no different.
And he’s about to prove that in the most violent way.
“W-what are you doing?” I mumble without that normal false confidence that I cling to so damn hard. Without a word, he comes closer, closing the distance between us until there’s nothing left. The slamming of my heart fills my ears. My breath comes in shaking inhales that don’t seem to ever reach my lungs.
His gaze softens just slightly as he looks down on me. It isn’t a look of kindness. It’s a look of defeat. The crack of light through the window reveals his starlit eyes, and there isn’t an ounce of darkness within them.
There’s exhaustion.
“I’m fucking going to bed.”
He passes me then, his smooth shoulder brushing mine and catching my eye with the golden tattoo that gleams there along his flesh.
I blink through my messy thoughts.
“I—You’re going to bed?!” I ask, astounded, as if I’m heartbroken he isn’t going to totally mutilate, murder, and use my body as a new, fun raincoat for this stormy island.
“Yeah. It’s been a shitty few days. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Um—” I consider what the fuck that leaves me to do, then...
If Synder and I aren’t constantly at each other’s throats, we have no idea what to do with one another. Where do I go from here?
Should I leave? Hide in the forest until I figure out a plan? I’d have to get to the forest unseen for that to happen.
Not likely.
“Can I stay here?” I awkwardly ask my arch nemesis.
He pulls the heavy covers over his lean frame and turns in toward the wall. Only the hard lines of his muscular back are consoling me in this moment.