13. Theo

Theo

I have no idea why I agreed to this. I mean, I know Roan was right about working on the cottage. As sore as I am every night when I collapse into bed, I am feeling better. Seeing the progress I've - we've - made, doing something with my hands, challenging myself to do things I never thought I could do, learning . Like, actually learning, not just knowing . It's been, well, fun.

Plus, I'm so exhausted from all my hard work in the day that I'm sleeping easier at night. The nightmares haven't exactly gone away. Most nights I still end up in the dark Woods and I can still hear Marieth and Darius calling to me in their haunting disembodied voices, but they aren't as intense and vivid as they had been.

Between the sleep, the exercise, the good food, and Edith's disgusting concoction, I am starting to feel like, well, definitely not my old self, but like myself . It's an entirely new feeling, almost like a weird confidence spiral. The more I manage to achieve, the more I want to - like a slippery slope of positivity turning me into this insane being who enjoys other people's company and agrees to dumb new things.

Like working at the Black Stump Tavern.

Because Roan and I need more time to be sexually frustrated around each other.

But maybe it's just me. Or maybe he's a masochist. I don't think that's my thing, but I could learn if that's what he's into.

I pull nervously at my black jeans and tee shirt that serves as the loose uniform of the tavern. My tee shirt feels a little tight, but Seldon had insisted that it looked perfect and made my "wee, little, baby biceps pop" in a distinctly mocking tone. I have no idea why I am friends with him, but still I make my way down the stairs to the tavern for my first shift.

If only my parents could see me now . I almost giggle with glee at the horror Almithera and Tyne Hivercouer would experience knowing that their second child had abandoned their heritage, their legacy , to pursue a life in service .

Though Tor's deal was a little different. Before he did… whatever it is he does at Caelan's homestead, other than get in the way, he was a dancer-slash-bartender. Basically, he hung around the place looking good in teeny tiny shorts.

From what Seldon said, I'll be mopping spills and running dirty dishes for the night.

But rather than dwell on that, and the anxiety boiling in my guts at the idea of hanging around a tavern full of beings all night, or the way my shoulder is aching already from stripping wallpaper from the downstairs of the cottage today, I cling to petty joy of rebellion against my parents. It doesn't matter that they aren't in my life anymore to see it. I see it. And after spending my life cowering from experiences and desperately seeking everyone's approval, it feels good. Better than good.

It's liberating.

I thud down the stairs with a little extra pep in my step, smiling and nodding at the tall, pale vampire coming up the stairs. He's in the room next to me and has an awful habit of slamming the bathroom door at five a.m. when he showers, but otherwise isn't a bother.

As we pass, he looks down his aquiline nose at me. His black irises are tinged with red giving him a rather malevolent look, as his gaze bores into me. The look is disconcerting, making the hairs on my arms stand and tingle.

Maybe he just enjoys freaking people out, because when he registers my fear, his face slips easily into a surprisingly charming and handsome grin, and he nods back. The weirdo.

The tavern's ornate staircase balustrade is cool beneath my hand as I make my way down. It is easily one of my favourite things about the place. The ancient tree trunk stands at the foot of the stairs, its long branches tamed hundreds of years ago to thread their way up the slightly curved staircase, almost like they had been braided by the Gods into subservience. I give the staircase a final pat and jump from the bottom step, running into Edith, who surprises me, threading her arm around my waist.

"My darling, we've all come to support you on your first day!"

And just like that, there goes my good mood.

My groan is loud and petulant, but I don't care. It's only the middle of the afternoon, so the tavern is largely empty. It's easy to spot Roan behind the bar, where he's scratching at the base of his horn, an apologetic smile on his face. Edith pulls me along, literally. I'm stumbling along the flagstone floor to keep up with her as she leads me to one of the booths built into the stone walls.

Horror fills me when Seff, Tor, and Caelan cheer exuberantly at my arrival, all obviously too many pints deep in the beer already. Embarrassment scorches the back of my neck, shooting down my arms to tingle my fingers.

Behind me there is a second round of cheers and laughter as another rowdy group of patrons join in the antics. I am not sure if they are aware of what they are cheering for, but at least they are enthusiastic about it.

I cover my face with my hands, pushing my fingers into my eyeballs until colours dance in the darkness.

"What are you idiots doing here?" I pout after a moment of hiding. Edith had rejoined the others, pouring herself a beer from the jug, overfilling her glass. She leans forward and slurps at the precariously filled glass and then beams her manic, red smile in my direction.

Seff slams his big hand on the table, jabbing a finger in my direction. "That's rude, my friend. We wanted to be here for you on your big day!" His eyes are glassy and his smile sloppy. Awesome. Just what we need, a drunk, giant wolf shifter.

I turn to my brother and his mate, who has the decency to look a little ashamed. "What? I thought maybe I could help, give you some tips, brotherly advice, you know?"

Well that may be impossible because I think I just disowned him.

What time did they start drinking, I wonder? Because they are a mess. Tor's hand is wandering dangerously up and down Caelan's thigh, creeping closer and closer to the no-go zone, his head resting on Caelan's shoulder with a contented sigh.

Caelan, thankfully, grabs my brother's hand, forcibly moving their now joined appendages to the table. I eye him balefully and Caelan, out of the lot of them, is the only one with the good grace to look chagrined.

"I'm sorry, honestly. I thought we were going to come for a quiet drink, but then these two idiots got all competitive and started drinking some special drinks Roan cooked up and now here we are." He shrugs apologetically, a hint of a blush on his handsome face, and his sincerity thaws me. Just a little.

I'm still mad that my brother decided to come here at all on my first day, like a child on the first day of school. But whatever. Tor beams at his mate, cow-eyed and dopey, drunkenly shaking his hand free to squeeze Caelan's bearded cheeks with both hands.

"You are just so gorgeous. I love you so much." I've never seen my brother so sloppy as he tries to mash his face against Caelan's in what I think is meant to be a kiss.

Seldon arrives just as Caelan manages to wrangle Tor back into his seat. Meanwhile, Edith and Seff had slid out of theirs, falling under the table giggling at Tor and Caelan's struggle. It's an absolute shit show, and they are definitely earning every second of their hangovers tomorrow.

"What in the Gods' name did they drink?" I frown at Seldon as he approaches. But switch to a smile when I notice he's wearing a shirt I'd bought for him on our shopping trip in Twin Heads - a satin, slightly oversized black shirt tucked into his trousers and unbuttoned to almost his navel, showing off his smooth, defined chest and a chunky diamante choker that accentuates the creamy paleness of his neck. Seldon has a definite flair about him I am still a little in awe of. "Nice shirt."

I even throw in a little wink, and he preens, running his hand over his impeccably styled hair, the vibrant red locks pushed back in a way I could never achieve with my curls.

"Thanks, a cute boy bought it for me."

I snort and roll my eyes with a goofy smile. The others at the table ignore us, now yelling at each other about the results of some sports thing I have absolutely no interest in or understanding of. Seldon watches them for a moment with growing horror, like a mad scientist witnessing his monster come to life. Except there are four of them.

"Uh, Roan's been playing with some cocktail recipes, and they offered themselves as taste testers." He looks back over his shoulder at Roan who is behind the bar trying to contain his laughter. His face is bright red and strained from the effort.

How he still looks incredible is beyond me, but that flicker of heat that he always manages to ignite in me flares to life once more. I swallow hard, my tongue thick in my mouth, and try to refocus on Seldon. "They may have been a little strong…"

With a dramatic flair that I only would have dreamed about in my past life, I wave my hand at the lot of them, now once again falling all over each other crying with laughter. I don't even think they are laughing at anything.

"Yeah, ya think? I'm not dealing with this one. These guys are yours." I stalk off towards the bar, flipping them the bird over my shoulder as they cry out for me to stay.

The night is long, and I am a special new kind of exhausted when I eventually crawl into my bed above the tavern later that evening. The work is hard, in a very different way to what I am used to. Lots of running back and forth, carrying precariously large loads of glasses and dishes, trying to navigate the crowds with a level of grace I never really knew I had.

Only in the solitude of my shower, with the water pounding my shoulders in an attempt to work out the knot hiding there, would I admit it had been… fun.

The patrons had been lively but always nice and respectful enough. I have a sneaking suspicion that is owed largely to Roan standing behind the bar, his arms crossed over his wide chest, glaring down all of his customers, like they hadn't all heard the story of the time he'd got all weirdly hot, berserker protective the night the group of fauns had bumped me.

The way he'd flexed those thick ropey muscles, getting all growly and intense, was definitely a memory I'd replayed more than once during my, uh, special alone time.

I'd always thought I was an introvert or at least a loner. But after the past few weeks hanging out here at the Black Stump, and even tonight working, I'm beginning to think that maybe the problem was just that I was surrounded by assholes.

I mean, yeah, I'm too tired for that special alone time, even if Roan had looked especially hot tonight wearing the white shirt that is a little tight and see-through, so you could see the outline of his nipples and the dusting of hair on his chest when the light hit just right. And I'm a little burnt out on the socialising thing for the day, but it feels like a good thing. My cup is full and all that.

The sheets of my bed are cool and soft, just like they always are. I'm even getting better at making my bed. Since I've gotten to become friends with everyone here, it feels weird having them clean up after me, so I am trying to learn, reminding myself that I wanted to learn how to take care of myself and be my own person.

Turns out that was a lot easier to do when you had a safe place to land when you fell. And that's what I had growing here, even if the Darius-shaped ghosts in my dreams like to taunt me that I'm taking advantage of their kindness. That they pity me. That I'm still not doing things on my own, still relying on someone else to pave the way for me, and hand things to me.

Dream ghost Darius likes to pull at the threads of my insecurities just as much as real life Darius did.

I shove at my pillow a couple of times to rearrange it under my head and curl up on my side, the dim sounds of the tavern a comforting white noise. I wait for the prickle of bitterness to creep in, that I once could have cast a quick spell to drown out the noise, one of the constant niggling reminders of everything that I lost, but it doesn't come. Only a cosy feeling of rightness that follows me on the grounds of the Black Stump Tavern. Settledness. Like coming home, as my eyelids finally grow heavy, and I drift into sleep.