17. Theo

Theo

The sun is burning the bridge of my nose. I can feel the sting that I'll regret later this evening in the shower, but I ignore it. Today has been a long one. I spent the whole day sanding down the kitchen cabinets that I pulled apart yesterday. Tomorrow, I'll re-stain them.

The house is really coming together, even in only a few weeks. Which isn't terribly surprising considering the worst of the worst was just a lot of dirt and cobwebs.

And, to be fair, everyone has been amazing about coming around to give me a hand. I even managed to change the taps and faucet in the kitchen yesterday and the pipes under the sink without any help, remembering everything Seff had taught me when we'd worked on the bathroom.

There is still some patching and painting to do, and the downstairs floors need to be refinished - a horrible job with the chemicals involved but I'm not sanding them by hand - and I'll be able to start moving in.

That idea might be daunting, but that's not what's bothering me this afternoon. I swat away a fly that's buzzing around my head and cross my arms, shifting my weight on my tired, sore legs. The kitchen gardens, or what remains of them, are a mess. The sight of them has been increasingly irritating, like a mosquito humming around my ear, getting louder and louder, and I don't think I can take it anymore.

I need to deal with them. Not that I know the first thing about gardening. But I also didn't know how to re-hang shutters, or pour a beer, or pretty much any of the things I've done over the past two months. I can handle something as simple as a garden, right? Caelan is a farmer—I'm sure he'll help me with the basics.

I raise one of my hands to my lips and chew on the hangnail there,while I stare down the broken-down fence, collapsing under the weight of the weeds and vines taking it over, as if I can glare it all into submission.

There is the crunch of boots on the gravel pathway, but I don't need to look to figure out who it is. After the past couple of weeks of fooling around at every opportunity, my body is finely tuned into his presence.

Even now, the electrical impulses on my skin spark to life when I feel the heat of his skin next to mine, close enough to brush against me in a gentle tease but not enough to give anything away. Our friends with benefits situation is currently the worst-kept secret in the tavern. But, so long as we all agree to play along, it's fine. Right?

"I'm going to fix the garden."

Roan huffs an exasperated sigh and his elbow bumps into my arm, completely ignoring the fact that I have just claimed another part of his tavern. We still haven't discussed anything like rent for the cottage. We haven't discussed a lot of things, actually. The conversation at the Falls was a good start, but a lot of things have been left unsaid.

Like my history with Darius. My future. That even though I'm sleeping better, the nightmares are still there. That I am terrified that he only wants me out of some sick protective instincts from hauling me out of Marieth's house half-dead.

Our easy friendship, the way that he looks at me, the way he touches me, like I am the most valuable thing in the world, like I am his, tells me that logically it isn't the last one, but fears aren't always rational.

"With all that spare time that you have? I have some better ideas for things you can do if you're getting bored." His voice is low and rumbly, sending a shiver down my spine. I chance a look at his face and find him staring down at me, his heavy-lidded eyes full of heat and the promise of pleasure.

My cock responds like it always does whenever Roan is within touching distance, plumping up in my shorts. Roan must sense it because his nostrils flare, his breath coming out in a rough snort. Heat floods my cheeks, prickling down my neck and across my chest.

It's the first time that I've seen him today, but it was only last night that he took his break from the tavern and came to the house to "check up" on me and bring me dinner. It had ended in an extended make-out session, and me sucking on that gorgeous veiny dick of his in the sunroom.

He'd been late back to work, especially since I'd failed abysmally at swallowing his load and spilled all over his pants, so he'd had to nip home and change. When I'd visited everyone later, Seldon had given me a wink and a high five without a word.

Needing to clear my head of the replay, I cough to clear my throat and shake my head. "There isn't too much left to do inside, really. And I can't stand looking at all this for the rest of my life." I wave my hand in the general direction of the travesty of the garden, ignoring both my lifelong claim of it and Roan's answering grunt.

Roan is closer again now. I'm not sure he even realises that he keeps creeping closer—he does it whenever we're together. Even if we start on opposite sides of the room, we will end with him touching me. I do not hate it, not even a little bit. I keep my face directed at the garden, so he hopefully doesn't see the small smile toying with my lips.

"Theo, you can do whatever you like here. My home's your home. Just let me know if you want a hand with anything." Completely unable to resist, I turn to face Roan, my stomach turning to liquid heat when I glimpse his strong profile lit in the fiery sunset highlighting the intense shadows of his face. He is a work of art. I plaster the sauciest smile I can muster on my face, even throwing in a wink for good measure.

"I can do whatever I like, hey?"

It takes a second for him to catch on and his face darkens, his eyes narrowing in on my lips. I run my tongue across my lip, and bite down. A low rumble comes from his chest, and I know I've got him exactly where I want him. My fingers thread through his like we are made for each other, and I walk backwards to the privacy of the house, tugging him with me. "I definitely have something you can give me a hand with."

Completely unheeding of the fact that anyone could be watching from the tavern, Roan pounces on me with another growl, scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder.

My yelp of shock scares a flock of some kind of bird or other in the trees surrounding the house, causing them to explode in a cacophony of sounds that could only attract more attention. Roan doesn't care though, slapping one big hand on my ass, then slipping his fingers between the juncture of my thighs so his fingers stroke my balls with each step. Heading to the engraved door of the house, my rock hard dick digs into his shoulder as I bounce along.

"How long have you got ‘til you need to go back to the tavern?" My hands wander down his flanks to cup his ass. He grunts, kicking the door shut, plunging us into the cool darkness inside.

Deftly, he lowers me back over his shoulder, but my legs fight their way back around his waist, locking tightly behind him when he spins us and slams my back against the door, pinning me with his big body, his arms bracketing my head. Completely enveloped in him, he overloads my senses, and my cock gives an overly enthusiastic throb, leaking into my pants.

Roan traces his way down my jaw with his nose, snuffling around behind my ear. He presses a gentle kiss there, then reconsiders, sucking hard, leaving a big bruise. Marking me in a way that it is going to be near impossible to cover.

"Long enough, beautiful, long enough."

***

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" I yell over the raucous crowd, waving off the group of fauns yelling at me for service. I'll get their food to them when I can. Right now, I am trying to focus on winding my way through the dense crowd of bodies without dropping the overloaded tray of glasses in my arms. My muscles are trembling under their weight as I deftly step around a patron drunkenly telling their story with over-exuberant arms.

The Black Stump Tavern is apparently the place to be tonight; we are packed to capacity inside and out. It feels like all the beings of the Whisper Woods have made their way to us to see the mages and the spectacle they have made of the grounds surrounding the tavern.

There is definitely an appeal there, and they certainly are a dramatic bunch with their long jewel-toned capes in their elemental colours and penchant for many layered belts that jangle when they walk. Not to mention the jewellery and scarves they drape over themselves.

Add in their glamorous circle tents that have taken over the gardens and the way they show off their elemental magic like a parlour trick, and they have the locals eating out of their hands.

Personally, though, I am exhausted and very ready for the end of my shift in an hour. Dumping the tray of glasses behind the bar with Roan, Woodsy, and one of the other bartenders I haven't caught the name of yet, I manage to sneak in a cheeky grope of Roan's ass before dashing out the back to get the food the fauns had ordered.

I quickly drop it off at their table, stopping for a quick hello and a chat, because that's the kind of thing I do now, and I am off again, hip checking Seldon as I pass him just for the fun of it.

I am more than a little disappointed that it is so busy tonight. I'd spent the whole day staining kitchen cabinets and ripping out weeds, fantasising about a hot and heavy, sneaky make-out session and maybe a cheeky blow job in the supply closet tonight, but it doesn't look like we are going to be able to make it happen.

I'd spent longer than I meant to in the garden today, and I'm paying for it now. Not only are my muscles exhausted, but I have a sunburn along the top of my shoulders because I stupidly wore a singlet in the heat. In my defence, once I got started I hadn't been able to stop. It was therapeutic ripping out the weeds and hacking back the plants, dead and alive, stripping the garden beds back to bare.

For the last week, I've been out there every second I can. Working with the sun beating down on me, my hands in the soil, the smell of crushed leaves in the air, something had fizzed to life deep inside, like another piece of me was being put back into place.

I was nowhere near finished this afternoon, when Mauvy came out from the kitchens with fresh water to remind me of the time, clucking her tongue over my reddened skin. It rankled to leave the job half finished, but I didn't really have a choice. I couldn't leave Roan and Mauvy in a lurch at the Black Stump, so I'd had to leave my half-destroyed garden to get cleaned up for work.

"I hear you've been working on the gardens." A hand on my forearm pulls me to a stop as I pass the group of mages congregated on the patio; they take up a considerable amount of room, spread out in their robes on the outdoor lounges like they own the place.

There is a sharp thrill shooting through my body from where the mage's hand rests on my bare skin, power just breaking through the surface. My heart stutters, a cold shiver overtaking me, even in the oppressive heat of the night. It's the first time I've had any real contact with them, despite Roan hanging out with them a few times since they arrived earlier in the week. I wasn't avoiding them exactly—I've been busy after all—but I was glad that they were in Seldon's section for the night.

They all seem nice enough, if incredibly loud once they get into the wine, but they are intimidating, unfamiliar. I get that same nervousness around them I had before, well, y'know, everything, and it makes me feel out of sorts.

Plastering a smile on my face, I look down at the mage holding me hostage. He is older, with silver hair swept back and a short pointed silver beard. His eyes are intensely focused on me, the irises completely devoid of colour except for a stark black ring.

I can feel his magic rippling off him, prodding at the edges of my being, and without my own gifts, I'm powerless to shield myself from his probing. Such an invasion is considered incredibly impolite, but these are Roan's friends, so I try to not squirm even as my skin crawls.

Finally, I remember he asked a question, and I bob my head in a quick nod, hoping that maybe I can end this potential inquisition before it gets started. "Yeah, just started."

The mage's head cocks to the side as his hand slips down my arm to turn my hand at my wrist, and he finally takes his unsettling eyes off me to stare at my palm. His touch is like ice as he inspects my hand. I'm not sure what exactly he is hoping to find. His group of friends stop their conversation to watch us intently, and I smile brighter, intent on not making an idiot of myself in front of Roan's friends. I wish I could remember his name.

Eventually the mage with the white eyes drops my hand and tilts his face back up to mine. His smile is handsome but laced with danger. There is something there that reassures me though, that he is not dangerous for me. The intense coldness leaves my body, leaving goose pimples in its wake.

"That, my friend, is a very, very good choice for you." He drops my hand and the others return to their conversation.

I have no idea what to make of the mage or his pronouncement, so I settle on a tight grin, raising my eyebrows. "Cool, thanks."

I make my way back to the bar. It's late, and I'm due to finish some time soon, hopefully.

Thankfully, Seldon sidles up next to me in the middle of the tavern, taking my tray from my hands. Looks like I'm finally off duty for the day.

"I see Alain finally caught you. Tarook, the head mage guy, said he needed to chat with you, but it's been so crazy tonight. What did he want?" He waves his hand to encompass the general chaos of the room. At least I found out the mage's name.

"Uh, just to say that he's heard I've been working in the garden and that it's a good idea?" I leave out the inappropriate magical probing— something tells me it wasn't malicious. Plus, Roan trusts them, so I'm happy to give Tarook and Alain the benefit of doubt.

Seldon pulls a face, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Is that all? With the way he was nagging me about getting you over to say hi, I thought it was some big drama. Weird. Anyway! More importantly, we need the spare blankets from your room. Run and grab them, and then you're officially off shift for the night."

"You sure? It's busy out here, I'm happy to stay if you need -" Seldon cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

"Absolutely not. We'll be fine." The quiver of exhaustion in my limbs begs me not to argue, so I wave my goodbyes before jogging up the stairs to my room to get the blankets.

As I pull them out, I hear a dull thunk on the floor but can't see anything that has dropped. Not wanting to waste any more time, and wanting to squeeze in another shower before bed, I run down the hall, almost colliding straight into Roan. His big hands steady my shoulders as he pushes me back into a shadowy corner.

His lips are on me before I can speak, not that I'm complaining. With an impatient groan, I deepen the kiss, dropping my hold on the blankets to thread my fingers into his hair to tug him closer. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and my knees go weak, only the pressure of his body against mine and his hands now cupping my ass keeping me upright. Unfortunately, we eventually need to break apart for silly things like breathing, and so with great regret I pull myself back, nuzzling my head into the hollow of his neck.

"I met one of your friends, the mages."

Roan hums in response, as his hands make delicious circles on my ass. I'm not even sure he's paying attention. "He was weird." This time Roan chuckles.

"They can be like that. They didn't upset you did they?"

His breath tickles my ear as he rubs his cheek over my head, almost like a cat marking their scent. It quickly changes to soft kisses behind my ear, and I shift my head, rising on my tip-toes so he doesn't have to bend so awkwardly.

"Nah, it was fine. He was just intense." I groan impatiently as his lips latch onto the ultra sensitive skin at the base of my throat, biting down. "Come by after you finish." Roan's head pulls back, his eyes searching mine for a moment.

It only just occurs to me that we hadn't done that yet. Sure, we'd fooled around at the house and in the storage closet and small bedroom kept downstairs for staff who work too late to drive home, but we hadn't yet made it into each other's private spaces.

Roan's smile is small, and I give in to my urge to pull down on his neck to give myself enough leverage to rise up to give him a quick kiss on the corner there. His head bobs in agreement. "It'll be late?"

I raise a shoulder, shrugging casually, stroking my fingers down his thick biceps and back up again. I truly don't care how late it is. Finding time to be with Roan, alone and unhurried, is starting to get impossible.

And I'm not going to lie, the idea of waking up with him in my bed thrills me in a way that can only be dangerous.

"Don't care. You have a key. Let yourself in when you're finished." Roan's roaming hands have found their way back to my hips, and he gives me a possessive squeeze, making my stomach drop.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." And then his lips are on me again, hard and with the promise for more. Down the hall, a doorway slams, and suddenly there is a professional distance between us, the blankets now firmly in his arms. The only hint of our secret moment are his swollen, kiss-stung lips and blown out pupils and my panting breath. Another guest passes us, waving as they go, and then Roan is gone, following them down the hall.

There is a little extra pep in my step as I make my way back to my room, gathering my things for my shower, determined to get myself extra clean for when Roan comes by later.

Making my way to the bathroom, skirting around the tight space between the bed and the chest of drawers, my foot kicks something hard on the floor. I hiss and curse, hopping on one foot to nurse my injured pinky toe. After rubbing away most of the sting, I crouch on the floor to see what I managed to stub my toe on.

There, under the bed where I kicked it, is my phone. I sit back on my heels, considering leaving it there. It must've dropped out when I grabbed the blankets from the drawer. I stare at the shadows under the bed for a moment, like a spider or monster might come jumping out any minute, my heart beat increasing with my anxiety.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter to myself. With determined resolve, I shove my hand under the bed and blindly pull out the device.

The screen is black, and I can see my warped image in the reflection. The protective cover is cool under my fingers as I flip it around in my hand. It seems silly to be so scared of such a tiny inanimate object, but it's what it represents that bothers me so much.

My lip finds its way between my teeth, while my hesitant finger presses the power button. This is probably a terrible idea, but I seem to be doing it anyway.

The screen lights up and flickers through its loading screens. I unlock it with my old pin and wait for the notifications to load. My lip has begun to bleed, so I press my thumb there to take away the sting while I continue to stare, entranced by the phone. As it finds its limited connection, it explodes in vibrations from my most recent notifications.

Every single one is Darius.

And they are recent .

Once the phone stops its conniption, I use an unsteady finger to scroll through the missed calls. There are literally hundreds. I swallow hard, guilt settling low in my belly about having ghosted him. Even though he was the one that broke it off with me, the same distressed feeling at displeasing him creeps into my being, urging me to frantically fix it before I upset him further.

I can feel every beat of my heart, every throb of blood in my veins, even the whisper of my eyelashes when I blink as I click on the message thread.

It loads to my last read message, the ones that I had sent him begging him to return. To talk to me. Pleading for him to come back to me, that I didn't care if he was engaged.

Bile rises in my throat as I read my own pathetic desperation. There is a delay between my last messages and his. He'd left me on "read" until I'd left. The first few messages are the standard fair for him after one of our break ups, when he would come scrounging around looking to get laid.

Theo, I'm sorry you feel like I abandoned you. We could meet for coffee? At your apartment? I miss your touch .

Theo, baby, don't ignore me like this. I've said that I'm sorry. I will meet you at yours and we can figure something out.

Don't be like this, you know how things are. Don't you want to figure things out?

I thought you loved me, Theo. You said you loved me and now you just abandon me like this? When I am risking my future to see you?

They are saying at school that you have left?! And you didn't even tell me? So much for "loving me forever" and "doing anything for me". I need you and you aren't even here.

This is so childish Theo. One mistake and abandon me and run away from everything? This is why we could never be together. Absolutely pathetic, I made the right choice. How could I ever trust you when you are so unreasonable?

I am sorry, baby; I was hurting and lashed out. I miss you, please baby, call me.

Everything is going wrong Theo, and it's all your fault. I needed you and you weren't here. You left! Everything would have been fine if you weren't so dramatic about everything. But no, you had to run off and have a tantrum and left me alone to pick up the pieces.

They go on and on, increasingly unhinged messages, alternating between rage and apologies, blaming me for destroying his life. Until the final message, received just after I checked my phone the other day.

I can see you have read my messages Theo. I will find you.

My stomach threatens to bring up everything I ate in retaliation for the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My body nearly vibrates with anxiety, but my actions are surprisingly calm as I silently hold down the power button until the screen goes black again.

Ever so carefully, as if it is a bomb about to explode, I gently place the phone in the back corner of the drawer it had been in earlier and softly shut it again.

Darius has lost his mind. I shake my hands as I make my way to the shower to turn on the water, my body switching to autopilot with my brain currently occupied with the overwhelming barrage of emotions smashing into me. He broke up with me, and I somehow ruined his life?

An almost overwhelming part of my brain is screaming at me to go back to the drawer and turn my phone back on. To call him and plead with him to forgive me. That I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to him, even if it means leaving the tavern here and going back to the University. To be his side piece while he marries Mathilde.

But then, the thought of doing that, actually debasing myself like that, enrages the other side of me. The new me.

The weak fae who cowered before everyone they disappointed died on Marieth's kitchen table. I viciously scrub at my body while my thoughts chase themselves around in my head, leaving violent red marks on my skin.

The messages and calls, the nightmares about Darius and Marieth calling to me and chasing me in my dreams, my friendship with Roan and the life that I'm building here. It is all suddenly too loud and overwhelming in my head. Beneath the parade of misery is the gentle hum that maybe… maybe I should tell Tor or even Roan about the messages. Even Seldon.

But I shove the idea down into the deep, deep recesses of my mind. The thought of sharing this … I can't. They are just starting to see me as a real being again, not as some little victim. Rinsing the soap off my body, I slam the water off and dry myself like I can cleanse my spirit by removing the top layer of skin from my body.

My body keeps up its momentum, dragging me through getting on clean underwear and sliding in between the sheets of my bed, my calm and smooth movements at odds with my tumultuous, vibrating insides.

I flick off the lamp on the bedside cabinet, plunging the room into complete darkness, while my mind plays a revolving movie of every mistake I have ever made, every person I've ever hurt, its soundtrack and endless taunt of my failures and insecurities on an endless loop, while I pray for sleep.