23. Adelbert

Chapter twenty-three

Adelbert

After gathering all the supplies, Florence and I head out for our day outside. I have had such difficulty with my concentration over the past couple of days that a small break in my daily routine might be what I need to recalibrate.

Thoughts of Florence have also been bothering me without cease, diverting large portions of my focus from important matters. I am finding it increasingly difficult to tell what is the bond and what is essentially me genuinely enjoying her company.

"I usually like sitting over there," Florence says and points to the spot I know she frequents.

"I am aware. Though, today I thought I would show you a different spot since you can venture farther from the house now that I am with you. If you would prefer that, of course."

"I would absolutely love seeing other parts of the forest. The bit I've seen is so beautiful but I feel like there's much more to be discovered," she says, beaming a brilliant smile at me.

I acknowledge Florence's excitement with a nod and lead the way to an area I used to like to play in when I was a child and did not want my father discovering me enjoying such frivolous activities.

Much like our first venture through the forest, Florence follows quietly behind me. This time, my steps are slower and I am less tense, therefore less likely to snap at her for being distracted by the surrounding sights.

Last time, the stress of entering Alberad with a human and the pressure to find a resolution to the bond were riding me hard, and I may have come across ruder than I intended. On top of that, meeting my father so unexpectedly threw me off.

With that in mind, I slow down until I walk beside Florence. She moves over slightly, always taking care not to accidentally touch me.

I card a hand through my hair and glance sideways at Florence as I say, "I must apologize for the last time we walked through the forest. I may have been a bit short with you."

"Oh, that's okay. I understand." Florence waves a dismissive hand in the air. "You were under a lot of pressure and you had a stranger thrust upon you and invading your private space."

"Yet, you had to move to a new country with a very rude stranger after just learning that monsters are real," I counter.

"But you're kind of a nice monster."

I scoff. "Nice is not something that is usually used when referring to me."

"Well, you've been nice to me," Florence says with a tilt to her chin.

"I could be nicer," I admit.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Florence's eyes fill with empathy and her hand lifts as if she wants to reach out to me, but she catches herself in time and lowers it again. She laces her fingers together and quickly changes the topic when she notices my expression.

"Knock knock," Florence starts and the whole mood instantly shifts.

Seeing the mirth dancing in her eyes, I decide to play along.

"Who's there?"

"Yoda. Lady," Florence says carefully, enunciating slowly.

"Yoda lady who?" The moment the words fly out of my mouth, I hear exactly what they sound like.

"I didn't know you could yodel like that," Florence says through giggles. She has to stop walking as she doubles over with laughter. Finding it impossible to withstand her cheerfulness, my own chuckles bubble up in my throat and join hers.

Being with Florence feels like a warm blanket on a cold night, causing an unnamed emotion to coil tightly in my chest.

Once our laughter subsides and we can resume walking, Florence says, "So, tell me more about where we're going."

I have this strange urge to hold her hand, but I quickly shake the thought away and point straight down the path at the bright light seeping through the gap ahead.

"We're heading to a meadow I really like. It's still within my warded area so we're safe from being detected."

"Is there anyone specific we should be happy about not being detected by?"

I think about my father, the other professors, and decide to be truthful.

"My father is my biggest concern. Especially at such a sensitive time. But we are safe here." I give her a reassuring look before I continue, "This meadow is where I played as a young boy, and it is where I come to clear my head when needed."

Florence pauses and my own feet halt. She places a hand on her chest and looks at me with the most sincere expression I have ever seen on someone's face and my heart loses its rhythm for a second.

"Thank you for sharing such a personal place with me. It means more to me than I can express."

We stay like that for a moment, eyes locked on each other, and I search her face. The desire to do something irresponsible—like threading my fingers into her hair and taking sweet, sipping kisses from her luscious lips, tasting her until she melts into my arms—rushes to the forefront of my brain. I swallow hard instead and form my lips into something that resembles a smile.

"You are most welcome."

A contented silence settles between us as we resume walking, and I shove my free hand in my pocket to keep the flexing less noticeable, the other firmly grasping the picnic basket. Florence remains in my peripheral view at all times. I want—no, need —to see her reaction once we make it to the clearing.

She does not disappoint.

Florence's hands fly to her mouth and her eyes fill with tears. A single drop makes its way down her cheek and the visceral need to wipe it away makes me stumble back a step.

The movement catches Florence's eye and she turns to me with so many emotions blatantly apparent in her face. There's awe, thankfulness, joy, and I lower my shields a sliver to read the final one. Curiosity.

Florence bites her lip, then takes a shaky breath.

"How did you…? Is this…? I mean, wow! It's even more beautiful than my dream."

I tilt my head, not quite following what she's getting at.

"Come again?"

"This meadow. I had a dream about it months ago, but it was in fall and the colors were spectacular. I did an embroidery piece on it. But it was definitely this particular spot."

"You had a dream about my meadow?" I ask incredulously.

Florence crosses her arms across her chest and pink stains her cheeks.

"Well, right until now I kind of thought of it as my meadow." She tucks her hair behind her ear and stares somewhere behind me as she speaks. "But yeah, I completed the piece well before the trip to the Caribbean. I have pictures of it on my phone back home. I mean your home. Not that your home is my home. I know it's temporary. I just mean I left my phone in the bedroom that I am using while I am a guest in your house for a yet-to-be-specified period of time," Florence rushes out with hands flying all over the place to emphasize her point. The pink on her cheeks intensifies to a darker shade of red, the color spreading to her ears and down her neck, blooming across her chest.

I avert my gaze the moment it travels to her perky breasts—pretending I never imagined coming all over those tits—and I look at the field with scattered cornflowers, surrounded by tall trees on all sides and a stately oak tree toward its center.

"You are welcome in my home however long you want. I would like it if you treated it as your own. Go through all the cupboards, study all the paintings, explore all the rooms. It is my fault for not making you feel more comfortable. I aim to rectify my behavior and show you each room personally." I flinch as I replay my words in my head. "Okay, maybe not each room, but I vow to try my best."

"You're so sweet. Thank you for offering."

"I am not sweet."

"You're ooey-gooey delicious caramelly goodness under that grouchy shell, Mr. Alberad. If I was allowed to touch you I'd totally tackle you into a tickle fight right now." Florence lifts her hands in front of her body and flutters her fingers in a tickling motion.

"Oh, fates, no. A tickle fight?" I shudder at the thought and automatically stride toward the oak tree.

Laughter tinkles through the air behind me and the next thing I know, Florence is skipping— skipping —past me, her purple dress fanning out behind her as one hand gathers some of the material around her thighs to ease the motion.

I straighten my back and lengthen my strides, not wanting to be outdone by Florence. Too late, I realize how comical the two of us must look in this peculiar race and a smile creeps onto my face—completely unbidden, of course.

Right at that moment, Florence turns to look back from a couple of yards ahead of me and a radiant smile bursts across her face when she spots my grin.

"Last one to the tree is a rotten egg," Florence calls out with laughter ringing in the air.

My pace quickens even more to reach her, but Florence's foot suddenly catches on something. Her eyes widen as momentum propels her toward the ground and my heart catapults in my chest. I cannot allow her to be hurt because of me.

Summoning all the power I can gather in a split second, I reach out and hope for the best.

It works.

I catch her.

Not physically, but with my magic.

My magic I have not revealed to a single soul in this world.

Until now.