by Chrissy Jaye
The way Mia navigated me through throngs of people on the rare occasions she talked me out of our apartment, always making sure to keep herself between me and the rest of the world. Always protecting me, even from myself.
Every memory worth having had been spent with them. My life had been lonely, sure, but they had filled every square inch of it that they could with love and care. When I woke up from a switch, they were always a phone call away. They never berated me. Just dropped everything after hours or even days of worry and came to my side. They'd been there for every second I would allow them, and then some, because even the best of times can be stifling.
I felt each of these memories like a fracture, as if they'd been the glue that kept me together, kept me sane. They'd been my planets, the gravitational pull that kept me anchored to the world of reason, even when my head screamed with my insanity. Or when I panicked. Especially when I panicked. Their arms were just as strong as the ones wrapped around me now.
At some point, I broke and started to cry. The guilt was too much. When I'd woken up in that motel, unable to reach anyone, I hadn't thought that something could have happened to them. I'd been angry that they weren't waiting for me. I'd blamed them for coddling me my whole life. If I'd had more experience, I could have taken care of myself, but I didn't know how. I could have been using those idle hours in that disgusting room to track them down instead.
It was a while before I realized I wasn't being carried anymore. I was laying on a new bed in a strange room and I was alone, which only made me cry harder. And then he was back. The man with the brown curls and deep blue eyes. He just sat next to me, not talking, with his hand in mine. Unlike before, his face wasn't blank. His eyes were full of emotion as my tears slowed and I started to calm down. I took a shuddering breath and gripped his hand tighter, trying to put every feeling I couldn’t say into it.
He was a stranger, but the fact that he could touch me made me trust him. It was ridiculous reasoning. People touched all the time, at least normal people did, and they hurt each other. But my instincts screamed at me to trust him. So, I took the first step into friendship that everyone took with someone new.
"What's your name?" I rasped, my voice hoarse from hours of crying. My eyes were sore, and my face felt stiff with dried tears, but I needed to think about something else besides my family. I could tackle that in a bit. First, I needed to get myself together. I needed to put a name to a kind face and figure my shit out so I could help my family.
"Asher. And you're Aria," he said, giving me a small smile that didn't reach his wary eyes. It looked wrong mixed in with his features. A face like his should always be happy. Someone so beautiful shouldn't be afraid of someone like me. I was nothing. Just a crazy young woman with issues, granted, but nothing to be afraid of. I wasn’t dangerous. At least not to anyone but myself.
"Yeah," I replied, not having the strength to say much more. We sat in silence for a while longer. I took the time to study the room we were in. The walls were paneled, floor to ceiling in a light wood I didn't have a name for. I wanted to say it was oak, but I wasn't an expert. The bed I laid on was covered in soft sheets that twisted around my legs. The thick blanket pooled at the foot-board. At some point, I must have shoved it down with my feet. Aside from the bed, the only other piece of furniture in the room was a small table next to the bed which held an unlit candelabra. There was one window, across from the bed that was blocked by sheer curtains. It let in just enough light to see the room without giving away any detail outside.
In any other room, it would have been out of place, but the whole room was like a fairy-tale come to life. There were two arched doors in the room, one of which I know we'd come through. The other, I had no idea where it led, but each was thickly adorned with carvings, like doors you might find in an old castle. Except I remembered that we'd entered some sort of cottage though the finer details escaped me.
I wanted to ask him about his ears, but they intimidated me. I remembered how we met. How the doorway to that bathroom had started glowing and then he was there. Things were happening that I didn't understand. I kept glancing at his ear tips and then looking away to stare around the room whenever he caught me. A small smile caught on his perfect lips each time, growing larger like he knew what I was thinking.
When I couldn't take the silence anymore, I asked "Where's Ford?"
"He's with my brothers in the kitchen. Are you ready for company?" His question caught me off-guard. I'd assumed Ford had left. He didn't really do emotional scenes. He was a great trainer, but a bit standoffish otherwise, which only fed my nighttime fantasies. What would it feel like to be taken by a man like him? Or Asher for that matter. Butterflies filled my stomach. Nope. Not going there. Too much, too soon. Instead, I tackled his question. Was I ready for company? I couldn't tell. I did need answers though, so I nodded.
"There's a closet and bathroom through that door. I'll be in the kitchen." And then he left, pulling his hand from mine. I sat there for another moment, feeling his absence as soon as the door closed behind him. He hadn't even looked back. Then again, I couldn't figure out why I wanted him too.
The closet and bathroom were the same. Paneled walls with weird decorations that were outdated years ago. The closet was stuffed full of clothing on both sides, all of it female in design. There were long dresses, skirts, and shirts that I wouldn’t have been caught dead in otherwise. I grabbed the most familiar things I could into my arms. A soft linen shirt with strange buttons that might have been mother of pearl and a long skirt that tied closed, leaving the bottom half of my legs exposed by a slit that ran halfway up my thigh on one side. Everything else in the closet looked like it might fit me, but I didn’t have the same hope for unused underwear, let alone a bra.
I threw my selected shirt and skirt on top of the dresser and opened one of the drawers, pulling out the first thing I found. It was a band of some sort that had bra hooks. I felt my lips curl up in horror. I'd read about these in some period romance I couldn't recall the name of, though usually they had some sort of tie like a corset or were just one sewn piece of fabric. There was no way in hell I was putting that on. I dropped it back in the drawer, slamming it shut and opened another. This one held some type of long-john underwear. Nope. No way in hell. I slammed that one too.
"Need help?" A cool voice asked behind me, making me jump. I would have fallen, but I caught myself on the dresser and whipped my head toward the new voice, narrowly avoiding knocking myself unconscious on the sharp corner. The light was dim, filtering in from a window high up on the wall opposite the dresser and behind him from the bedroom, but it wasn't so dark that it hid how tall he was. He towered in the doorway, filling it with his bulk. Not that he was bulky. He was actually rather lean. He was shirtless too, wearing only a pair of jeans that rode low on his hips, displaying his abs for all the world to see.
My eyes traveled up his chest which was speckled with dark hair, up along his neck before settling on his face. He wore a smirk, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, that fit perfectly with his strong jaw and dimpled chin. His face was framed by a shock of long black hair that fell to his shoulder on one side but was shorn almost to the scalp on the other. It was different enough to be considered exotic but alluring at the same time. Emerald green eyes scanned me up and down while I drank in his appearance. His eyes appraised me before turning his head slightly away to a sound from the open doorway behind him. I gasped when I noticed his ear was slightly pointed like Asher's.
"We're Fae," he said before he grimaced. I stared at him, still shocked by his appearance. "So, do you want help?"
"Uhh." I couldn't speak. I was still staring at him. His jaw clenched even as he smirked at me and then he moved forward, almost invading my personal space, but he stopped himself a few inches from me and leaned down to open the bottom drawer, pulling out a matching set of underwear and threw them on the dresser. I blushed, noticing that he'd pulled out the laciest thing he could find first. A quick
glance at the open drawer showed several sets of cotton that I would have been more comfortable with, but I didn’t say so.
He backed up a few paces, putting a hand to the shaved side of his head and scratching at his scalp nervously, his eyes darting from the clothes to me and back again. "You can get a different pair. They're all your size." He backed up a few more steps as I stared at him. "Can you stop thinking so loud?"
"What?" I asked, thrown by his request. How can someone stop thinking so loud?
"Yeah, uhh. I hear thoughts. Yours are really loud." He turned away and left, glancing back once before he disappeared through the bedroom door. I didn't miss the way his jeans hugged his ass as he sped out of the room either. I shook my head, trying to clear it, but his words spun in circles through my head.
What had he said? Fae - he heard thoughts? Had I hit my head?
Nope. I didn’t want to tackle any of this yet. I wanted a shower. Hot water makes everything better. Second best to a hot cup of joe.
Gathering my borrowed clothes, I stepped through to the bathroom and tried not to stare. Again, the walls were covered in wood, though this was a bit more porous than the bedroom. I tried not to think about it as I closed the door behind me and started to strip down. Light was coming through two matching arched windows made of frosted glass on either side of the sink, which was also made of wood except for the bowl and faucet, which looked like brass and porcelain.
The mirror above the sink was set into a carved wooden frame that spanned from the sink-top to ceiling, revealing every inch of my naked body. I ignored that too and stepped up to the shower. It seemed relatively normal, if not a bit rustic, with a brass frame and more frosted glass. The fixtures inside looked brand new, so I opted to trust it.
Inside, I found my favorite lilac scented soap, and almond milk shampoo. A fact that did not go unnoticed but seemed unimportant in comparison to everything else. Maybe they just had good taste in soap. I washed quickly, getting rid of the smell from the motel and the stain of dried tears on my face. The familiar scents of home helped calm me while my brain processed everything. I started to remember small details, like a woman we'd passed with bright green hair and pale, almost translucent skin. Did she have gills on her neck? And I remembered fluttery wings on a short man as he brushed by Ford, almost bowling him over.
I took a deep breath, leaning into one side of the stall, willing my heart and mind to slow down. I needed to talk to Asher. All of this had started with him. I hadn’t seen anything strange until… No, that wasn’t right. Events had been strange even before he appeared. I held out hope that he could at least explain it.
Chapter Seven
I tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door as softly as I could behind me. Thankful it didn't groan like most old wooden doors. The hallway was short, opening up into a large room on one end while the other backed into a window that overlooked a small garden with a beautiful stone arch. I couldn’t see beyond the arch from my angle, but it didn’t seem important enough. I didn't see any way to get out there unless I walked into the main room, so I stopped gawking and prepared to face the music. Or the firing squad. Whichever came first.
I could hear soft male voices talking as I made my way quietly to the entrance of the living room. All in all, it looked pretty modern compared to the bedroom, if you discarded the wooden paneling. Seriously, it was everywhere and bizarre. People hadn't had wooden walls since the eighties.
Two pale overstuffed couches crowded around a low wooden table that had so much finish on it, I was sure I'd see my reflection in it if I decided to pause there, but I didn't. Along one paneled wall was a fireplace. I almost gaped at it since it was covered in rough red and gray brick and not wood, but held it in. I didn’t want to bring it to anyone’s attention in case they decided to dismantle it and build a new one out of wood. The other wall held an open bar counter that overlooked the kitchen.
The men were spread around the kitchen talking quietly. None of them had noticed me yet. Except for maybe the one who was cooking. It was the one who came in to help me find clothes. He winked at me as he glanced up from the stove but didn't say anything which caused me to smile. He’d acted so awkward earlier, but I could see now that he was relaxed. There was a chemistry between him and the other two that was clear as day. The smile felt awkward on my face, like I had no right to smile with my family missing, but I let it stay there. Even the grieving were allowed small bits of happiness.
I moved cautiously to the counter that divided the two rooms and slipped onto a wooden stool, but Asher noticed me right away. His eyes roved up and down the part of my body he could see. I felt self-conscious in the thin shirt and skirt I'd found, sure that he could make out the lacy undergarments, but I refused to hide. I knew I wasn't a beauty and frankly, people, when they did notice me, almost always gave me strange looks. Awkwardness seemed to ooze from every pore I had.
Following his line of sight, Ford saw me next, his sentence dropping off softly as he drank me in. I saw pride in his eyes, something I was used to seeing whenever I'd made progress. He didn’t smile, but that was normal for him. I tried not to think about the last time he'd seen me, a blubbering mess. I squared my shoulders, ignoring their stares. I was ready to do battle.
Well, maybe.
"I have questions," I stated. "Like what's with the ears and why can that one," I pointed to the man at the stove, trying not to get distracted by his naked torso, and failing, "can hear my thoughts. And how you," I said pointing to Asher, "knew where to find me."
"To answer your first question, my name’s Colton, but you can call me Cole," my most recent fascination said straightening up and turning to wink at me. I had to tear my eyes away from his washboard abs. "And I can hear your thoughts because that's my strongest ability. My brother, Bastian can read emotions, which is why he isn't here. He was going nuts listening to you sob your gorgeous eyes out." He stated all this matter-of-fact while I tried to follow along.
"There are more of you? How many?” The questions tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. I tried not to look embarrassed. I just honestly didn't think I could take any more attractive men. My cheeks started heating when I remembered what Cole had said earlier, that my thoughts were too loud. I glanced at him, but he just shook his head, dismissing it. I took that as reassurance that despite the invasion of privacy, he wouldn’t be telling them everything I thought.
Ford cleared his throat and came to lean on the counter in front of me. "There are four of us. Well, five, but you'll meet her later."
Internally I bristled at the idea of another female, but outward, I tried to appear like stone. Only the quick smile on Cole's face that he tried to cover told me he knew exactly what I was thinking. I sent him a small glare that no one else missed. Asher and Ford shared a look before glancing at Cole.
"Our first order of business will be to get you shielding," Asher said, coming closer to the counter. He reached out to grab my hand but on instinct I pulled it back, feeling somewhat stupid. I hadn't wanted to pull away, but after years of avoiding contact with others, I couldn't fight the reaction. A hurt look crossed his face, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
"What about my sister and aunt?" I asked, mostly to cover the awkward moment. It was like these men missed nothing. They shared another look between them, making me shift uncomfortably. Could they talk in their minds too? I looked to Cole for an answer, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
"We're looking, but it's already been several days," Ford answered softly, not quite meeting my eyes either. I steeled myself, taking in that bit of information and feeling the need to cry, but I closed in on it. I couldn't be weak anymore. I'd made that agreement with myself while I'd cried my eyes out. The days of being taken care of were over. I'd been trying to do it for a year now, but Bea had made it impossible at every turn.
"What's that?" Cole asked. Everyone stilled. His voice had taken on an edge, deadly and predatory. I tried not to think about her
again, but the longer he stared at me, the more I thought about every second she'd plagued me. I felt dizzy as the thoughts sped by, almost like I wasn't in control. It wasn't until a choked sob escaped my throat that the sensation stopped. My head reeled back, as if someone had been holding me in place and I’d finally managed to jerk away.
"Was that really necessary?" Asher spat at him, moving around the counter impossibly fast and pulling me backward into his chest before I could stop him. His heat seeped into me and everywhere we touched tingled. I melted into him as my blood sped up with both anxiety and no small amount of desire. I wasn't new to the sensation, just not accustomed to it when it came to physical contact.
"It was," Cole replied, throwing down a spoon he'd been using to stir whatever was boiling in the pot behind him. "Did you know about this?"
His question was directed at Ford. If the sudden anger bothered him, he didn’t show it. He didn't flinch or even look the least bit troubled. He half turned away from me and held his ground. Cole looked mad enough to kill right now. His face was bright red, the blood pumping through a vein in his neck that bulged out so hard I thought it might burst. His jaw ticked the longer he stood there, until I thought his head might explode. It was a lot of rage for someone who seemed so sweet and easy going most of the time. I made a mental note to never get on his bad side.
"You did too, just not the extent," Ford said, his voice was even, so controlled, if I hadn't known him just a bit better, I would have said he was close to snapping back. But he didn't. Ford had never lost his temper, not even once with me. And never with anyone else I saw him interact with. "Go find your brother. I'll call for a meal."
I didn't expect Cole to leave. He was too angry. Even I could see it. But he did. He sent a scathing look at his companions and slipped out the door, slamming it behind him. One of the six glass panes adorning it cracked. I stared at it for a few seconds, tensing when it started to seal itself again.