Chapter 35

35

Farryn

The next morning, I headed down to the kennels, where the sound of gruff commands drew my feet toward the edge of the woods. There, I hid behind a small shed, and caught sight of Van Croix standing before the three dogs, who sat perfectly still, their snouts angled high. He’d placed a slab of meat on each, and paced in front of them, as if daring one to devour the savory treat. Not a single dog moved. I’d have been surprised if they so much as breathed, with how still they kept.

Van Croix snapped his fingers, and all three dogs moved in unison, jerking their heads and catching the meat before it hit the ground. Immediately after, they stood back at attention.

After a few more rounds, I stepped out of my hiding place to approach.

At first, Van Croix only regarded me with a quick glance, which turned into the kind of stare that left me feeling naked and exposed. It was only when he turned his attention back to the dogs that I felt like I could breathe again.

“I see you’ve gotten an early start to training this morning,” I said, strolling up to him.

“Just trying to establish some discipline before all the careless frolicking sets in.”

“You should try it sometime. Careless frolicking. It significantly reduces the risk of curmudgeonism.”

“Curmudgeonism. Seems your vocabulary could use a bit of tweaking.”

“So could your attitude.”

“Is it your father who made you so sharp-witted?”

I chuckled at that, the tension in my stomach settling a bit. “My aunt, I suppose. She always told me never to let a comment slide without a proper rebuttal.”

“I see you’ve mastered her advice.”

“And you? Was it your father who passed along the snarkiness in you?”

The corner of his lip kicked up into a slight smile. “My mother. Like your aunt, few things escaped her sarcasm, when I was growing up.”

“She sounds wonderful. To me, anyway.”

“She was a rare woman.”

“Mine, too. I’m quite certain it was my mother’s unyielding sense of bullheadedness that attracted my scatterbrained father.”

“What man could resist a woman who refuses to give in?” The implication in his voice had my cheeks flaring again. Flirting with him felt like a dangerous game, and I was nowhere near experienced enough to match his wit.

“So. Shall we get to it, then?” I asked.

“Get to what?”

“Careless frolicking. I insist you partake. If for nothing else than to reinforce your hatred of it.”

“I’d rather not.” The bored expression on his face matched his tone.

“Ah. Too scared to cut loose. I get it.”

“You of all people should know mind games are exercises in futility.”

“Me of all people? What does that mean?”

His lips curved into an impossibly attractive smirk. “It means nothing. Go on. Show me this frolicking you do so well.”

The comment made me smile, and I pursed my lips for a whistle, which broke the dogs from their attentive stance. All three of them trotted over to me, a trick I’d taught them while out in the meadow. “I know this is going to sound foreign to you, but the first thing we do is relax. I don’t know what pressing matters occupy a man who runs a creepy cathedral, but it’s imperative that you set it all aside for this.”

“Consider my attention undivided.”

“Good. The next thing? Getting the dogs to chase you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s both terrifying and fun. Particularly with Fenrir, who likes to nip.”

I leaned forward and sprinted toward the woods.

The dogs barked, and the chase was on. Of course, I’d never keep too far ahead, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was, the three of them never tired of being ‘it’, and that made it all the more fun.

Laughter burst from my chest on broken gasps of air, as I leapt and ducked, under and over branches, in my attempt to dodge the dogs, who remained hot on my trail. The trees broke for the open meadow, and when the dogs finally caught me, Fenrir nudged my behind with his nose, and I let out a squeal. It wasn’t until I nabbed a stick from the ground and tossed it off a short distance that the dogs abandoned their chase after me for the new target.

Bending forward, I rested my palms against my thighs, while deep breaths sawed in and out of me. I turned to see Van Croix strolling up, one hand tucked inside his slacks, casual and attractive in a way I didn’t want to admit.

“It seems you’ve misunderstood the object of this game, Miss Ravenshaw. You’re the one exhausted and out of breath.”

“Out of shape,” I clarified, straightening my stance. “I can’t remember the last time I played chase. Or ran, at all, for that matter.” A few years prior, I’d gotten into the addicting habit of running without consuming enough calories, which had put me in a dangerously unhealthy lifestyle. Part of it was that I could think clearer when I ran, and the more I ran, the more I thought, the less I paid attention to for how far, or for how long, I’d run. I once trekked thirty miles in a single day.

One of the dogs trotted up with the stick and dropped it at my feet. Smiling, I picked it up and handed it to Van Croix, who stood wearing a frown, as usual, when he accepted it.

“It’s called fetch. Surely, you’ve played this before.”

“I haven’t. I never understood the point of repeatedly tossing an object for the same monotonous outcome.”

“Does everything have to have purpose? The dogs love it. That’s the point.”

“Without purpose, everything becomes pointless.”

“Let’s see how far you can toss the stick.”

His brow quirked, and he tapped the stick against his palm, then he drew back, and all I saw was a dark flash streak across the sky toward the woods at the opposite side of the meadow. It’d gone so far, I lost sight of it in the overcast sky.

“What the …”

The dogs raced toward where it must’ve landed, while I stood dumbfounded.

“What just happened?”

“Did I not do as you asked?”

“Yes, but … that’s … not possible. For a human being.”

“In your world, perhaps.”

I didn’t bother to look at him as I asked the next question, “Are you one of them? The Fallen?”

“Not quite.”

“An angel?”

“I wouldn’t call myself that, either.”

“Human?” At the slight crack of my voice, I cleared my throat.

A long pause followed, and I turned to find him unapologetically ogling my legs. “You ask as if you don’t really want the answer to that.”

“At least tell me if I should be frightened to be alone with you.”

One slow trek up my body, and his gaze met mine. “Yes. You absolutely should be.”

I shook my head, slowly, absorbing his words. “If you were capable of harm, you would’ve done it by now.”

“Perhaps, like the dogs, I enjoy a chase.”?For a man with only one good eye, he surely packed the intensity into his stare.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I bluffed. Of course I feared the man. He was the most intimidating creature I’d ever met, and I’d known some surly tenured pricks at the university.

He lifted his chin into the air before lowering his gaze on me once again. “And yet, I can hear your heart pounding inside your chest. Can sense the racing of your warm pulse. I would venture to say that if I laid so much as a finger on you right now, you’d tremble with my touch.”

“Is that something new for you?”

“Only my enjoyment of it.”

“You won’t hurt me. Because it still baffles you that your dogs trust me so implicitly, and therefore, you have no choice but to do the same.”

“You put an awful lot of stake in whether, or not, I care what the dogs think.”

“You would’ve already gotten rid of me, if you didn’t.”

Brow quirked, he tipped his head. “That option is not entirely off the table.”

I swiped up another stick from the ground and handed it off to him. “Show me again.”

With what I took as reluctance, he reached for the stick, and before I could lower my hand, he gripped my wrist and spun me around so fast, the surroundings were a peripheral blur. My heart pounded inside my ribs, as I stood with my back to his chest, that intoxicating smell of his watering my mouth. Arms came from behind, and he set the stick into my palm, then drew back my arm.

“You’ve only to imagine where it should go,” he said at my ear.

He released my stick-toting hand, and I turned my head to the side, breaths unsteady and fast.

“As far as I want?”

“Yes.”

In the distance, Fenrir sat back on his haunches, as if waiting on me. The distance was well beyond what I knew I was capable of throwing. I drew back slightly farther and tossed the stick. The object rocketed across the meadow, and I watched in awe as Fenrir leapt into the air for it.

Holy shit. Holy shit!

I cupped my face and laughed into my palms. “That was insane!”

Minutes later, Fenrir trotted back with the stick, and after depositing it at my feet, he darted out toward where he’d sat before.

“I have to try this again.” I swiped up the stick and drew back my arm.

Behind me, Jericho stepped back, relieving me of the heat that radiated off his body like a walking furnace. Arousal pulsed through me, and I screwed my eyes shut. I tossed the stick, which only went a couple yards.

Pathetic.

A hand rested on my waist, and I drew in a sharp breath as he gripped me in a way that felt possessive. “I don’t think you’re concentrating on the stick, Miss Ravenshaw.”

In as subtle a movement as I could muster, I directed my stare down to where his hand gripped me, how easily he could bruise, or steer me, if he wanted. Even relaxed, his hands warned of incredible strength. Swallowing a gulp, I shook those thoughts from my mind.

When Fenrir retrieved the stick, I nabbed it up and threw again. The stick sailed over the meadow, just as the first time. On an ungracious squeal, I hopped around and let out the most ridiculous sounding giggle that’d ever passed my lips.

When I turned around, I caught a hint of a smile playing on his lips, one that faded as his gaze turned thoughtful for a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, still staring as if trying to concentrate. “It was just a strange thought. Reminded me of something, but I can’t quite place what.”

“It’s funny, there’s an odd sense of familiarity when I’m around you, Mister Van Croix. In fact, I feel as if I’ve been here before. In the meadow. Before now.”

“It’s common. Many in Nightshade suffer from déjà vu. They’re called es’ra or echoes. They mimic memories of past lives. Some more imperfectly than others.”

“Like Blackwater Cathedral. It reminded me of the old church ruins where I used to play.”

“Perhaps Blackwater is an echo of something which existed in another part of your world.”

“How very strange.” A beautiful melodic sound echoed overhead, a bird’s chirping, so clear and song-like. I turned to see a tiny black bird that reminded me of a puffy little chickadee, perched on a branch behind us. “Speaking of strange, what a lovely sound.”

“They’re Tu’Nazhja. A rather dangerous bird here.”

Frowning, I glanced back at what had to be the cutest bird I’d ever seen, almost cartoonish, with its wide black eyes and oversized beak. “Dangerous? It’s so adorable, though.”

“Yes. That is its nature. Between its adorable appearance and it’s alluring song, it makes for the perfect predator.” He ran his thumb across his bottom lip, eyeing me up and down. “In some ways, it reminds me of you.”

On a chuckle, I crossed my arms. “Wait. Did you just inadvertently call me adorable?”

As the corner of his lip lifted for a smile, a loud screech echoed from deep inside the forest, a sound far less pleasant than that of the bird, and his smile twisted to something more serious. My spine snapped to attention on recognizing it, my pulse hammering with fear.

“I’ll ask you to return to the cathedral with the dogs, Miss Ravenshaw.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“No.”

“I’ll get help.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He didn’t seem drunk, or impaired, despite his words.

“If one of those creatures is back there, trust me, you’re going to need the help.”

“Trust me when I tell you that I don’t.” He jerked his head, unclasping the cuffs of his sleeves as if a plan was already set into motion. “Now go. Do not return to this meadow.”

“Okay, fine. If that’s what you wish.”

“It is most certainly what I wish.”