8. Graeme

8

GRAEME

A riot of color and magic assaults my senses as I walk alongside Ecco through Elderberry Falls's town square. Laughter from diners sitting outside and enjoying the summer breeze mingles with the gentle tinkling of wind chimes. Vibrant storefronts beckon with their enchanted wares.

It's a stark contrast to the muted tones and utilitarian structures of my clan's stronghold in the Black Mountains.

"Oh, and there's the Spellbound Bookshop!" Ecco exclaims, pointing at a quaint storefront with stained glass windows, her other hand briefly landing on my arm. "Mariah and I used to spend hours in there, poring over mysterious old books searching for treasure maps, and giggling at the enchanted romance novels that would read themselves aloud in sultry voices."

I grunt in response, trying to ignore the way her touch sends a jolt through my system.

Six days. It's only been six days since I started this job, and already this infuriating female is getting under my skin in ways I can't afford.

Ecco flits from shop to shop with unbridled enthusiasm, her blue hair shimmering like a homing beacon amidst the crowd. I trail behind, shoulders stiff.

This much carefree joy and casual magic in one place is foreign to me. In the Grigori lands, power is wielded with precision and purpose, not frivolity.

"Everything at home is just so charming," Ecco sighs happily, twirling in a circle. She grins as she catches my eye. "Loosen up, Graeme! Let yourself enjoy the magic a little."

I grunt noncommittally, scanning our surroundings for potential threats.

Ecco's character is starting to make more sense, growing up in a whimsical haven like this. It explains her blasé attitude towards her own safety. She's never had to be on guard, not in this tiny town where everyone knows everybody else.

As we continue, Ecco regales me with childhood stories that make my head spin.

"...And then there was the time I accidentally charmed half the town with a siren's love song when I was learning to control my magic. Had a horde of befuddled admirers following me around for a week before the spell wore off!"

She laughs, clearly finding the memory amusing.

I, on the other hand, can barely fathom it. In the Grigori clan, such a loss of control would be swiftly and harshly punished. Perfection is demanded, weakness rooted out.

There is no room for lighthearted chaos.

We stop at The Enchanted Bean, a cozy coffee shop with a line spilling out the door. The rich aroma of coffee fills the air.

"You've got to try their iced mochas," Ecco insists. "They're divine."

"I don't eat—or drink—sweets," I say flatly. Sugary indulgences dull the senses and slow the reflexes.

She pouts at me. "You're no fun. But even grumps need caffeine."

Before I can protest, Ecco grabs my hand and pulls me into line. My pulse kicks up at the contact, skin tingling where her fingers curve around mine. I should pull away, maintain professional distance. But… I don't.

The slow slide of my control is almost as terrifying as it is thrilling.

At the counter, Ecco greets the pixie barista like an old friend, launching into animated chatter as she places our order. I stand awkwardly to the side, an outsider in their cozy camaraderie.

"Graeme, this is Lilybell. We went to school together," Ecco says, her smile warm and inclusive. "Lilybell, meet Graeme, my new bodyguard."

Lilybell slowly raises an eyebrow as she looks me over. "Well, aren't you a tall drink of water? I bet you could bench press a boulder."

I nod stiffly, unsure how to respond to the playful banter. This easy, lighthearted connection is foreign to me.

Ecco places our order, and within moments, Lilybell is sliding two mugs across the counter. "One Magical Mocha for you, and a brew for your strapping companion."

I eye the dark liquid warily. "What's in it?"

Lilybell winks. "A special blend for our gargoyle customers. Guaranteed to put some pep in your step."

I take a cautious sip and am surprised by the rich, earthy flavor. It's strong, with a hint of something smoky and ancient. Warmth spreads through my chest, invigorating me from the inside out.

"Not bad," I grudgingly admit, and Lilybell beams.

As we exit the cafe, I find myself lost in thought. Elderberry Falls is like something out of a storybook—laughing children chasing enchanted bubbles, couples strolling hand in hand, magical beings of all kinds and the odd human, all mingling in easy harmony.

What would it have been like, to grow up in a place like this? Would I be different?

I push the thoughts away. There's no use dwelling on what-ifs. I am who I am, shaped by necessity and legacy. To wish otherwise is a foolish sentiment.

We arrive at a quaint dress shop, the window displaying gowns of shimmering enchanted fabrics. Ecco practically vibrates with excitement as she spots Mariah waiting inside. They're meeting up for the final bridal and bridesmaid dress fittings before the wedding.

"I'll just be a few minutes!" Ecco promises before rushing in to join her friend.

I take up my post by the door, alert for any threats. But the area is blessedly quiet, a reprieve from the town's ceaseless stimulation. I close my eyes, trying to center myself with a familiar stoneheart meditation.

Instead of cold, steadying calm, my mind fills with images of Ecco.

Her smile as she pulled me into the cafe.

The brush of her fingers against my palm.

The way the sun sets her hair ablaze, like blue fire...

My eyes snap open with a low curse. Gods above, what is wrong with me? I'm acting like some infatuated child. I need to focus on keeping Ecco safe—and nothing else.

I breathe deeply, focusing on the solid stone beneath my feet, the comforting weight of my vows. I am a Grigori, a shield against all threats. I will be the immovable boulder, not the flighty leaf tossed on the winds of feeling.

No matter how tempting the alternative may be.

The minutes drag by with agonizing slowness as I wrestle my unruly thoughts into submission. When I finally rise, I'm more like myself—cold, certain, untouchable as the mountain stone.

But I realize that it's been too long. Ecco should be done by now.

I stride into the shop, ready to collect my charge and be done with this errand. The front room is empty, no sign of Ecco or Mariah amidst the racks of gowns.

Unease prickles along my nape. I scan the space, senses straining. No hint of danger, no disturbance in the air.

And yet...

"Ms. Waverly?" I call out, my voice tighter than I'd like. "Ms. Waverly, are you back here?"

Silence. The kind that is heavy, expectant. Like the held breath before a scream.

I'm moving before I realize it, my long strides eating up the plush carpet. I burst into the dressing area, my blood singing with the familiar rush of impending violence, already envisioning the worst—an empty room, signs of a struggle, the viscous shine of blood?—

I pull open the doors to the dressing stalls, each one empty, the worry ratcheting inside of me.

And then I freeze, every muscle locked in stunned paralysis.

There, in the stall I've just opened, standing amid a pool of shimmering fabric, is Ecco. Wearing nothing but a few scraps of pink lace lingerie and a startled expression.

For a moment, I can't breathe. Can't think. Can only stare, drinking in the miles of creamy skin, the generous curves that the lace barely conceals.

It's a sucker punch of lust, a bolt of pure, undiluted desire that rocks me to my core.

Ecco's lingerie is startlingly risque, the intricate lace doing little to hide the dusky rose of her nipples, the tantalizing shadow at the apex of her thighs. It's a far cry from the sweet, almost innocent image she projects, and the unexpected contrast only fuels the inferno raging in my blood.

We stare at each other, the air between us thick with tension, with words unspoken. And then, as if in slow motion, I watch as Ecco's surprise melts into something else entirely.

Her eyes darken, a sultry invitation gilding the violet depths. She shifts her stance, her hip cocking in a deliberate tease that draws my gaze like a lodestone. And when she wets her lips, a quick dart of pink that makes me ache to chase the motion with my own tongue, I nearly come undone.

"When you're done gawking," she says, her voice a husky purr that resonates in the base of my spine, "I'd like to get dressed. Thanks."

The words are a bucket of ice water, a harsh reminder of my place, my duty. I wrench my gaze away, shame and self-disgust a bitter flavor in my mouth.

"My apologies," I rasp, the words scraping like gravel. "I was… concerned for your safety."

It's a flimsy excuse, given how long I've been staring, and from the quirk of Ecco's brow, she knows it too. But mercifully, she doesn't press, just gives a little hum of acknowledgment that somehow manages to convey both amusement and reproach.

"I'll just...wait up front," I mutter, already turning on my heel. Her gaze is heated on my back as I retreat, a physical weight that makes my skin tingle and my shoulders tense.

It's not until I'm safely ensconced at the front of the shop, the cool air from the street a balm against my overheated flesh, that I allow myself to breathe. To acknowledge the truth that I've been trying so hard to deny.

I want her.

With a hunger that terrifies me, a need that goes beyond the physical to something far more dangerous. And if I'm not careful, if I don't get my head on straight and remember my place...

Fool , I castigate myself. Weak, pathetic fool, undone by a hint of skin and a half-formed fantasy.

But even as I layer myself in self-loathing, I know the truth.

This wanting, it's more than base lust. It's a hook behind my ribs, a fist squeezing my lungs.

It's the first stirrings of something far more dangerous than simple desire.

And I have no idea how to fight it.