Chapter Twenty-Four Cantor

It was good to get back into my routine. Being away from my friends and my regular chores made me feel… itchy. Even my sleep was all messed up when we were on the road. Being with my packmates helped, but I never felt quite right until I was home again.

I liked to wake earlier than my packmates- except Lynter- but on the road we had to compromise. Which meant I stayed up too late and woke, bleary-eyed and grumpy, well past the time my body preferred. Lynter, on the other hand, fell asleep late and woke up at his usual time and simply made do on less sleep. He was always grumpy anyway, so I suppose it didn't make much difference to anyone.

His reasons for getting up early were more suited to the road as well. He used the time before the dawn to train, battering his body into the best shape he could make it. Then he spent the rest of the day battering everyone else.

There was truly no need to wonder why he was always in a bad mood.

I, on the other hand, used those pale, dewy moments before sunshine warmed the ground to harvest herbs and visit my friends. Plenty of them spent their days hiding from the sun, so the candle before dawn was ideal for spending time with them.

I was warming my hands in the kitchen, waiting for Greta, our morning chef, to arrive so she could fetch me some stale bread and vegetable scraps, when the beta…. no, the omega girl stumbled in, her eyes flicking first to the fresh bread in the ovens, and then to me.

Her scent hit me a moment later and flooded over my senses, seeming to settle into the pores of my skin in the way of all good kitchen scents. She somehow smelled of fresh flowers, the type that lived close to cool, rich soil, and also of candy, the honey-colored kind that needed to be sucked on slowly to be truly savored.

She hadn't come to dinner, so it was a relief to see her standing on her own and unbonded. I knew Davos wouldn't do it. He couldn't, not my packlead. He was a good person. He always let me raise as many creatures as needed in the stables, and only rarely told me off for being a bit dreamy and forgetful. I was the least of our pack, and yet he treated me with kindness.

It was obvious to me now that Rosemary would be part of our pack too. I had thought so even when she seemed to be a beta. I just hadn't wanted to say anything, since I was scolded the last time I suggested adding someone to the pack.

I still considered that fox to be an honorary member, but I had to concede to Bastian's point that she would not have appreciated a bite.

So Davos had tried to push Rosemary to join us before she was ready. I had made that same kind of mistake a lot myself. Usually the animal would warn you off with teeth and claws if you got too cuddly too fast, but Rosemary was probably just too nice to do that. Luckily Sinclair had no shortage of pointy bits to do it for her.

Sometimes people needed coaxing and gentle ways before they were ready to trust you.

Anyway, I was very happy to see that our packlead had realized his mistake and that Rosemary was still here with us. Sinclair had told us all at dinner that we were to spend as much time with her as possible, to make her like us so she would want to bond.

I had wanted to show her secret places in the woods anyway, to bring her with me to find bird nests and fox dens, to see and sniff every kind of lovely smelling flower and leaf in the forest together. In fact I'd been planning to gather another bouquet for her this morning.

Looking at her now, as her gray eyes crinkled merrily at the sight of me, I knew none of that would be enough. What I really wanted to present to her was me.

My unworthy heart.

Breathing in her candied floral scent, I settled for offering her breakfast.

Coffee. She liked that, right? With milk and sugar.

Keeping a careful eye on her, in case she wandered off again, I rushed around the kitchen, grateful that Lynter liked drinking the foul stuff in the morning as well.

He might get annoyed that his second cup was missing when he finished his dawn routine and returned for it, but the smile she gave me, bright and open like a butterfly's wings, was worth it.

One of the breakfast loaves was done so I snatched that up too, along with cheese and a chunk of ham.

It occurred to me then that chef Greta wouldn't be pleased to know I had stolen a fresh loaf when she got back from whatever she was doing (probably having a nap while the bread cooked), so I gently took Rosemary's hand and pulled her out the back door and into the herb garden.

My omega never said a word, speaking to me only with giggles and sweet glances, and by squeezing my hand. How was it that my little starling already trusted me so much? No woman had ever wanted to be around me, especially not alone. I was too tall, too gangly, too odd-looking. And yet she was following me, eyes bright and smile wide. Every moment I spent swimming in her scent made me more delirious.

So delirious I didn't stop to think, but walked straight through the kitchen gardens in a daze, only aware of the small, warm hand in my own huge, calloused one, hidden there like a tiny creature in its burrow.

It wasn't until I reached the edges of the orchards beyond the fort walls, where they merged with the forest, that it occurred to me that this might not be the best idea. I stopped so suddenly that the omega crashed into me with an oof , and I had to hold her upper arms to steady her.

I then kept holding them because they felt really nice.

"Can you come with me into the forest?" I asked, trying to will myself to step back from her. Instead, for some reason, my thumb began to stroke the soft skin of her inner arm, as if combing through the fur of the softest kitten. She shivered and it suddenly felt like I couldn't ever hold her close enough. I restrained myself from pulling her into a full body hug. Barely.

She looked up at me with surprise in her eyes.

"I… I don't see why not?"

"Ahhh…" I said, trying to think clearly.

Her surprise meant she didn't understand why I was asking, right? Or was she mad that I was asking, and not taking charge like alphas were supposed to? I wasn't the best at that.

Not unless I was defending an animal, or sometimes a plant.

Or once a particularly lovely mushroom.

Rosemary was still looking at me as if confused. Her beautiful, freckled face had to tilt back quite far to see my eyes since we were standing so close, and it made her curly brown hair seem even longer as it fell further down her back.

No, I was supposed to be talking. Now was not the time to drift into dreamland, as Bastian called it.

I cleared my throat and hoped I wasn't somehow betraying someone. I'm really bad at knowing which things should be kept secret, unless it's bird nests, in which case it's better to err on the side of caution.

"Your… oath. Sinclair said you took a binding oath." She wrinkled her nose. At me? At Sinclair? "He didn't tell us the exact wording. Are you allowed to leave our fort grounds?" I gestured at the forest, then felt a flare of annoyance at myself that I had let go of one of her arms. She still looked puzzled, a tiny line drawn between her brows.

"I don't know if the forest counts as fort grounds," I elaborated further.

Her face cleared as she understood what I was asking, and I felt some of my tension drain away. Making myself understood always seemed like a matter of luck.

"I think it should be fine," she said in her low, sweet voice. "The oath stated that I would ‘remain with the Phoenix Pack'. It didn't say anything about this castle."

Most people talk too much, and it makes me tired having to listen to them. Rosemary, however, I wanted to talk to me all day. All night as well. Her voice was so sweet.

A flush lit my cheeks as I realized what else I would like to do with her all night and I quickly turned away, sliding my hand down her arm to grasp her hand and then leading her into the forest.

I don't think about my looks very often, except for how to make myself seem smaller when someone is scared of me, but I did know that when I blushed it was like a fiery beacon on my pale skin. My packmates often teased me about it. Being able to hide his blushes was something I envied in Bastian, although he probably never blushed anyway. Unfortunately for me, my Starling would be able to see my red face and dirty thoughts, even in this gloomy light.

We walked along in silence for a while, the misty pre-dawn air in the forest somehow made even more calming as it mingled with her scent. Birds were beginning to sing around us.

I could see the stronger light of the clearing ahead and realized I would probably have to drop her hand in order to feed the birds. The idea wasn't a pleasant one, but I supposed it couldn't be helped. For the first time, I resented my little friends.

I hadn't waited for the stale bread or the vegetable scraps, so the birds were getting gourmet fare this morning. They would forgive me a small amount of resentment.

As we stepped out into the clearing Rosemary made a soft sound that my heart echoed as I looked at her beaming eyes. I took a breath and dropped her hand, but only to swiftly gather a small bouquet of flowers nearby. Even as she was still drinking in the sight of the tiny meadow, wreathed in mist, I offered the bunch to her, gesturing that she should smell the tiny yellow flowers.

She took the little bundle from me and dipped her nose into it immediately. Her small, quick obedience lit my veins with strange fire.

"Oh, Cantor, it smells like you!" She said and from anyone else, that would have been an insult, at least to the flowers. The delight in her eyes should have confused me, but for some reason it didn't. I had finally accepted that this one person in the world enjoyed my scent.

I simply nodded as if merely pleased and not driven to silent ecstasy that she compared me to the scent of nostum flowers, and tore the loaf in two. It seemed important to act as if I didn't want to throw her onto the ground and consume her utterly, or be consumed by her in turn.

Gentle. Coaxing .

Long ago, I had placed part of a fallen log in the middle of this meadow, and my friends had worn a space in the grass in front of it after years of dawn feedings and merry chatter. Now I wished I had carved the old wood into a throne as Rosemary perched there and watched me.

I handed my Starling half the loaf, along with the cheese and ham from my pouch and, while I shredded the remaining bread, she portioned out our breakfast, crafting two rough sandwiches that probably needed butter but would be saved by the absolute freshness of the bread.

I hovered, the calculus of how close I dared sit next to her on the log beyond me, until she laughed and pulled me down, almost on top of her. So close I could feel the heat of her small body warming me through the layers of clothes.

So close there was no hiding my red cheeks, and probably not the blood rushing to other areas either.

What kind of alpha was I, sitting there next to her, stiff with nerves and blushing like a five year old child? Should I be taking charge somehow? Touching her on purpose? Giving her compliments so that she was the one with red cheeks?

The idea of doing anything to her without asking nauseated me, but the idea of asking- with such a high risk of rejection- was almost worse.

Instead I began to toss out the bread crumbs, aiming high into an arc I knew my friends would spot from the trees and other sheltered places. Almost immediately the space in front of us was filled with the sweet rustle of wings.

I had been here so many times, and had helped so many of the local birds, that the bolder of my feathered friends had no hesitation landing on my hands and wrestling the crumbs from my fingers.

Even sweeter than their happy chirps was Rosemary's gasps of delight, and her happy giggles. She liked my friends. I had made my omega happy. Pride and satisfaction filled me.

I pressed the rest of the bread into her fingers and her eyes filled with an impish joy I had never seen there before. She began to tease my little friends, withholding the crusts and dangling them just so, until she was sprouting birds the way they sprouted feathers, and she finally relented and fed them.

Oh merciless omega. I wished she would feed me from her hands.

My Starling diligently protected our meal under the top layer of her skirts, and then offered it to me when the crumbs ran out and the birds lost interest in us.

I took my sandwich automatically, but barely registered it as our hands brushed. My muscles were straining, my heart was pounding and my eyes couldn't seem to tear themselves from her plump bottom lip. She swiped her tongue over it and I was utterly lost.

"What?" she finally said, her mouth full of bread and cheese.

I felt like I would blurt out my entire soul.

"Little Starling… may I kiss you?"