by T. S. Joyce
Orion let the last sketch fall from his fingertips and backed toward the stairs. He shouldn’t be in here. This was her private hideaway. No one knew she could create like this. He scanned the strands of yarn hanging from the ceiling that held charcoal drawings by clothespins. Cassius’s face. Talon working in a garden. Kannon sitting on his front porch playing a harmonica. God, everything he’d thought about her was changing in moments. Annamora had deep layers that he hadn’t realized existed.
She saw things.
Saw people.
His gaze landed on a charcoal sketch of a white lion standing over the body of another. His dad. She’d drawn the moments after he’d killed his dad.
She saw him.
Exhaling in a rush, Orion burst up the stairs and out of the cellar. He stood outside in the sunlight, panting, surrounded by woods and birdsong, feeling like his legs had just been knocked out from under him.
He only had a talent for protecting things that couldn’t protect themselves.
Annamora had a talent for seeing the world differently and putting it on paper.
He’d never met a creative like that.
And as he inhaled deeply to clear his senses of the moldy smell of the cellar, he picked up another one. Annamora’s floral scent from her shampoo.
She stood on the edge of the woods, looking at him with such hurt in her light brown eyes. “That was mine,” she said simply.
And then she turned and walked away, leaving him there to shoulder a hundred pounds of guilt.
He’d never been a thief before today.
Chapter Three
Stupid boy.
Stupid, nosy boy.
That had been her special place, and he’d snooped in it. And stupid her, she hadn’t had the courage to go down in the cellar and kick him out. Instead, she’d waited there on the edge of the clearing for him to finish looking at her private thoughts recorded on paper. How many paintings and drawings and watercolors and scribbles had she done of Orion? Had he seen the studies of his face she’d stored in the cabinet? Had he seen the animation she’d done of his white lion on black Post-it notes?
She’d never felt more embarrassed.
And now here she was on the day that was supposed to be her big, happy day, staring at a case of nail colors, unable to choose one because her brain was circling her epic humiliation. He was probably laughing at her. Probably thought she was so dumb. Probably thought—
“That pink would look really pretty on you.”
Annamora gasped and spun to find Orion standing right behind her. He blocked out the entire nail salon with his big-ass Mack-truck shoulders. His blond hair was way messier than it had been when she’d busted him snooping an hour ago. Maybe he’d been rubbing his hands through it. That, or he’d electrocuted himself or stuck his face out the window like a Doberman while he was driving. He had his hands clasped behind his back, which just made his arms look even more cut and muscular under his thin white Harley Davidson T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved this morning, so his chiseled jaw was dusted with light gold scruff, and his bright blue eyes bore right through her.
“Oh.” Annamora swallowed hard. “Which pink?” she asked in a whisper.
He reached past her, his lips coming inches from hers, and then handed her a bottle of a shade called Happy Tulips. She read it out loud and then said, “Tulips are my favorite flowers. Not that you need to know that. Or not—not that you would care. Just a fact.” She cleared her throat but couldn’t drag her gaze back to his. Her cheeks were on fire, yet again. God, she was a mess around him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For earlier. For before. For a lot of things.”
“For before?” she asked, confused, frowning down at the pink bottle in her hands.
“Look up, Anna.” His tone held such confidence, such command, how could she deny him?
Annamora forced herself to meet his gaze, and when she did, the corner of his full lips curved up. Beautiful boy. Much too beautiful for a girl like her.
“Someday I’m going to tell you all the things I feel like I need to apologize for, but for today, let’s just have fun. Okay?”
“Do you…?” Her mouth was so damn dry, as if she’d swallowed cotton balls. She licked her lips and tried again. “Do you want to stay?”
His smile grew a little bigger, and her heart pounded a little harder as he considered it. A petit, dark-haired woman walked up and asked if Orion wanted a pedicure, too. Perfect timing. His eyes went round, being put on the spot like that, and Annamora snickered.
“Do I have to get paint?” he asked.
“No, no, no, boys just get their nails taken care of and leg massages.”
“And beer,” Annamora added.
Orion’s face went comically blank. “You get leg massages and beer?”
The nail technician giggled and said, “You look like a Coors Light man.”
“Oh, and she’s a magician, too,” Orion said, looking at Annamora with his blond brows arched high.
“You two can have those chairs beside each other. I’ll get your beer. Miss, would you like anything to drink?”
“Uh, do you have white wine?” It was only ten a.m. but, Lord, she needed some liquid courage to get through this without making an even bigger ass of herself.
The woman nodded and winked and gestured to the chairs. And as she walked away, she said, “He picked out a very pretty color for you. Matches the pink in your cheeks.”
Annamora looked up just in time to see Orion’s cheeks darkening. “Are you blushing, too?”
“No,” he grumbled, making his way toward the farthest chair. “Boys don’t do that stuff. Men.” Orion cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “I meant men don’t blush.”
His voice held a false note, though, and Annamora had to bite back her smile. He was being weird, too! It wasn’t just her circling the toilet of awkwardness right now. He’d jumped in, too!
She marched her Happy Tulips nail polish right on over to the chair next to him, kicked off her flip-flops, settled into the chair, and slipped her bare feet into the warm, bubbling water.
“Holy heeeeeeelll,” Orion groaned in the sexiest voice she’d ever heard. He had rolled up the cuffs of his jeans, put his feet in the water, and had melted into the thickly cushioned chair.
Annamora reached over and hit the button on his massage chair to turn it on, and when it began to kneed his back, he groaned again and rolled his eyes closed.
Okay, this was awesome. Orion was noisy when something felt good. A sudden vision of her running her hands down his chest and him making that same sound suddenly confiscated her imagination so that she froze in her chair, embarrassed all over again.
Her nail technician brought out her wine, and Orion leaned over with his beer bottle and held it up for a cheers. She tinked her plastic cup against the lip of his long-neck and tried to say something intelligent. “You have nice chest.” Aw, fuck it all. She stared ahead and chugged her wine.
Orion was chuckling and, for the second time today, she would’ve loved to have had that magic lamp to wish herself into oblivion.
“I think I’ve figured out the problem with you,” he mumbled, relaxing back into his chair.
“There is no problem. I’m fine.”
Orion took a draw of his beer and let out a long, “aaaaah.” “I think you’ve been watching me, too.”
Wait, watching him too? What did that mean? Had he been watching her? But when she parted her lips, about to say something else super smart, probably, his nail technician started massaging his calves and Orion slid down farther into the chair cushion and whispered, “Ffffffuuuuuuuuuck.”
The ladies doing the pedicures were giggling, and Annamora’s nail technician pointed to Orion and said, “He’s noisy.”
“Yes, he sure is,” Annamora agreed.
“It’s good,” she said. “Lots of men are. They figure out what they’ve been missing.”
“I’m getting a pedicure every week if i
t’s like this,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “Don’t tell my friends.”
Annamora rolled her eyes heavenward and handed her nail polish over. And then she settled in for the next hour of ooohs and aaaaahs coming from Orion. This was the coolest mani/pedi she’d ever gotten. One, because it had been so long that she’d felt pampered. Two, when Orion was happy, it did something good to her heart. And three, even though they’d spent most of the man/pedi time not conversing, Orion paid for both of them while her nails dried.
When they got outside, she murmured, “You didn’t have to do that.” She was doing the damp-nail-pluck-the-keys-from-her-purse-so-carefully maneuver.
“Here, let me,” he said, tugging her purse from her arm. Only she didn’t know he was going to do that, so she ninja chopped his forearm for no reason at all, and across his skin, she dinged the still wet color of her second favorite finger. The middle one. The pinky was first favorite because it was little and cute.
She and Orion froze, staring down at the smudge of her pink nail.
“Why did you flail?” he asked.
“I don’t know!”
Orion’s sigh turned into a growl as he dug her keys from the side pocket. He unlocked the door of her ancient pickup truck, parked right up front. And then he turned and handed her the keys.
“W-why are you frowning so hard?” she asked.
“Because I’m usually smooth, but you’re making me so…so…”
“Bumpy?”
“Bumpy is definitely not the word I was searching for.” He stood up straighter and placed his hands behind his back again in some formal gesture that confused the heck out of her. “Annamora, this was fun. Sort of.”
“Ugh,” she groused. “It sounded good until the ‘sort of’ part. I had fun, too. No sort of. I just had fun.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Shop for decorations. You paid for my nails so that freed up even more money for me to fix up my cabin. Make it not so…brown. Not that there’s anything wrong with brown. It’s just not my favorite color. I’m rambling.”
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked suddenly.
Annamora dropped her attention down to her dinged-up middle finger. “Pink.” She would have told him that green was her favorite color up until he’d picked this color for her.
“See you later, Annamora.”
Orion made his way toward his old Chevy.
“Hey, Orion?”
“Yep?” he asked as he yanked his door open.
“I liked when you called me Anna. Okay bye. Have a good day. Bye. I already said that. Get in the truck.”
“Me?”
“No, I’m telling myself to get in the truck. You don’t have to say anything else. For real, bye. Kill me. Bye.”
Annamora scrambled into the front seat and barely resisted bashing her head on the steering wheel a few times and reprimanding her mouth for all of its mistakes. Instead, she put the truck in reverse and nearly ran over some human normie who was crossing the road. Lurched to a stop. Apologized as he gave her the finger. Wished for the magic lamp again and then motored down Main Street, trying her best to ignore Orion, who was standing next to his truck, tracking her as she drove by.
Today was one for the record books.
Chapter Four
Sunset was Annamora’s favorite time of day. She always opened the windows at the front of the house for it. Sometimes, the lightning bugs came out about now, and it was important to appreciate the little things. The simple things. The things that were so easy to take for granted. She’d done that in her old life before she’d been pulled into the Old Tarian Pride. Before her little safe world had been demolished and she was left to rebuild everything from the foundation up. But she was trying!
She set the painted mason jars into the antique white wooden holder and tied rough twine around the necks of each jar for a little added character. And then she placed it on the mantle above her tiny fireplace. The little decoration was the first spot of color in here. There were three jars, one in eggshell white and two in a muted teal color. Soon she would buy something to put in them to make them more interesting, perhaps some artificial flowers, but the store she’d found in town was expensive and she couldn’t afford those right now. She was going to have to do this a little at a time.
The wooden holder was a little off-center, so she readjusted it.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Just a minute,” she called.
Décor perfectly centered on the mantel, she made her way to the front door, pulled it open, and froze. No one was there. But a glance down revealed a wooden box with a folded piece of paper taped to the top. She frowned and stepped over it, then searched the path in front of her cabin both ways, but didn’t see or sense anyone. Huh.
Annamora stooped and picked the box up, then brought it inside and unfolded the note.
Anna,
Here is something just for you that isn’t brown.
Orion
Something big happened to her heart. There was this huge dipping sensation, like she was on the loop-de-loop of a big rollercoaster. This was his handwriting. She’d never seen it before. He wrote in neat print letters. And he’d called her Anna again. With shaky hands, she set down the letter and opened the box. Inside, there was nestled ten tulip bulbs. There was a florist card that said they were Pink Impression Tulips.
“Ohhh myyy goooosh,” she uttered on a breath as she cradled one in her hands. Rose had been teaching her all about planting and growing flowers at the greenhouse where she worked. But she’d never had flowers of her own to grow. And Rose didn’t have tulips yet. These would be the first ones in New Tarian Pride territory.
Also in the box was a carton of pastels. She didn’t have these either. She’d always wanted them, but art supplies were expensive. When she opened the carton of pastels, Orion had removed the three brown ones. She giggled. He’d listened.
There was another folded piece of paper underneath the pastels. She opened it carefully so she wouldn’t rip it. She was going to keep these notes forever.
First apology was for snooping around in your art cellar. You have a right to your own secret room. Your art will be safe until you invite me to see it. I hope you do someday. Until then, I’ll keep an eye on the woods around the house and make sure no one messes with the old cabin. That’s your safe place still. Second apology is from “the before.” You may not even remember it, but it’s burned into my brain. You and Sora were in the kitchen, and Cassius was having a meeting at the table with the new council. You and Sora were doing your best to stay out of the way and quiet while you cooked for them, trying to stay invisible so the males wouldn’t lash out, but Sora dropped a bowl on the counter and it broke. I lurched forward because I knew Cassius would hurt Sora, but you cut me off and stood in front of her, started apologizing to him. He was raging in your face, screaming every insult in the book, and you said over and over, “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. It was my fault.” I didn’t know what to do because you held your finger up whenever I stepped closer. You were telling me to stay out of it. But you got a slap across your face for protecting my sister. And I think you were protecting me, too. I’m sorry I didn’t ignore you and blast a hole through that motherfucker’s jaw for what he did to you. Seriously, you’ll never know how sorry.
Orion
Annamora slid down with her back against the wall and read it again. She remembered that night like it was yesterday. She remembered all of them. But Sora had been queen, and her punishment in the bedroom could’ve been much worse than Annamora’s smack on the face. And the punishment would’ve been worse still for Orion, who looked like he wanted to kill everyone. She believed him. His lion was a monster. He would’ve brought the wrath of the entire Old Tarian Pride on him if he’d interfered.
Even with her fast shifter healing, it had taken two days for the bruises to go away. The bruises on her heart still remained.
Orion had
paid attention. Yes, she’d been protecting them both.
A single tear for that memory was all she allowed before she brushed her knuckles against her cheek and stood back up. She was a New Tarian now, and a few weeks ago, when she’d seen a pretty picture Sora had taken of her, she’d decided the ground didn’t suit her anymore.
Orion had given her more gifts than just pastels and tulips. He’d acknowledged a sacrifice she’d made, one she’d never asked an acknowledgement for, but in a way, he’d thanked her with this letter anyway.
That was pretty special.
He would be at work all night running security for the big storage lockers on the edge of Telluride, so she had until six in the morning to come up with a response.
She needed to think of a gift that would make him feel special, too.
Chapter Five
Orion canted his head at the six-pack of orange soda sitting on his porch. He blinked hard and shook his head to make sure he wasn’t just dreaming. Night shifts were hard on him, and he always came home stumbling exhausted.
There was a folded letter underneath the drinks, the corner lifting in the wind. Orion knelt down and pulled it from underneath, unfolded it, and read.
Orion,
This gift also isn’t brown. I have a story. It’s a good one. Ready? Once upon a time, there was this girl who didn’t mean anything to anyone. She was small in a land of giants who didn’t pay much attention to small things. She was a watcher and a waiter, wishing for the day someone would come into the land of giants and look at her. One day, a princess came to the castle, and behind her, a bodyguard with white hair and eyes the color of ice. He was big, felt bigger than he was, and had a snarl in his throat. Everyone was waiting outside to greet the new princess, and she was captivating. But the quiet girl couldn’t take her eyes off the bodyguard because he did something special. He looked at her, really looked at her, and he smiled. It had been a very long time since anyone had smiled at her. The girl couldn’t stop watching him as he greeted the giants. He had smiles for them, too, but they were tight, like they weren’t genuine. Like they were a little angry. Like he was ready to fight them. But when he looked back at the girl again, the smile softened. Just for her. She was special, or so she imagined. For days, she looked for any excuse to go to the big house near the princess, just to catch a glimpse of the bodyguard, just for the chance that he would give her one of those smiles again. Just for the chance that someone would be nice to her, but he was nowhere to be found at first. Until one day, she walked into the big house to help the princess prepare the giants’ dinner, and there he was at the table with the bad ones. Sitting across from the horrible king of the giants. He wasn’t smiling as he spoke. He looked tired, and he was angry about something. The girl could tell from the grim line his lips had formed. She wanted to make it better, whatever was angering him. She had to. It wasn’t a choice. She just needed him to smile. So she began preparing drinks for the table. One by one, she passed out ice water to the giants. But when it came time to make the bodyguard’s drink, she had something special she’d hidden away for herself. Her favorite drink in the whole world was orange soda. She’d hidden one orange soda in the very back of the pantry behind a bag of rice. She dug it out, poured it over ice, and gave it to the bodyguard. He thanked her, and he said orange was his favorite. Then he smiled.