19. Theo

Theo

I think I'm in love with Roan.

I know, I know, what's not to love about a kind and generous, funny man who touches my body like he worships me, always looks out for me, and has that amazing, thick, ridged cock?

I am still desperate to get that thing inside me, fascinated to know how those veins feel when he's filling me up. I bet it is mind blowing. Everything else we've done has been, so why wouldn't that be as well? Not that we've fucked yet. For some reason we've both held back. Or maybe we've just been too frisky and impatient and managed to always get off before we get to the main event.

I skim my hand along the water, the current swirling around me, the thunder of the Falls' calming white noise under the ripples. I need to think, and as has become my new habit, I've come back to the Falls. It really is the perfect spot to float, relax, and let everything fall away. I never fail to leave feeling regenerated, like the water has knitted back the broken bits inside of me.

Roan wasn't too happy when I told him that I have been coming here on my own. He'd got that look in his eye, the one that said that he wanted to tie me to a chair and lecture me about my safety. I'd let him, too.

Because I love him, apparently.

I didn't mean to. It just sort of… happened. I'd had the first inkling in my second session with Doctor Brordieu when I spent the whole time talking about Roan. In my defence, I'd originally meant it as a deflection technique when the doctor asked me about my nightmares because I made the vital error of yawning and admitting I hadn't slept well the night before.

One comment about being busy with the house and the garden and working at the Black Stump and everything else and how great Roan has been, led to even more word vomit, and then I spilled the whole damned thing to the doctor. He'd looked down his beaklike nose, blinking his owlish yellow eyes at me, tapping his pen on his notepad thoughtfully.

Then he'd said, in that unnaturally calm, unflappable voice of his, that it sounded like Roan was very important to me. I almost said it, too. Doctor Brordieu has this way about him that makes me want to spill everything inside me on the floor so he can put it all back together again.

I am not sure exactly what his being status is, but with those eyes and long claw-like fingers—not that I'm one to judge—he is definitely not human. Sometimes I hate that it's impolite to ask when things are a bit obscure, like with fae, because it can leave you defenceless against their powers.

But that's neither here nor there. It wasn't compulsion or magic forcing me to blather on like an idiot; it was him, and his patience, and those eyes . They said that he understood and didn't judge.

Not even when I eventually told him that my friends had ventured into the Whisper Woods to kill an ancient fae who had kidnapped me and murdered hundreds over the centuries. And that was pretty murky waters, legally.

I mean, there is no legal jurisdiction in the Woods—the beings there fend for themselves. But there are still some sticky laws about entering the Woods to strictly pursue illegal activities. He'd just smiled calmly and nodded, stating in that sedate voice of his that it sounded like a very intense situation. And then he asked how I felt about it all.

Anyway, back to Roan. I'd almost blurted it out. "Well, yeah of course he's important. He is amazing, that's why I love him."

I'd managed to hold my tongue and murmured something incredibly unconvincing and rubbish, and Dr Brordieu had just scribbled on his pad while I nervously chugged the glass of water he always had waiting for me.

At first, I tried to convince myself that I meant that I loved him like a friend. But after I'd left the doctors' offices in Twin Heads and had to occupy myself until Seldon could drive me back to the tavern, I'd been left with even more time to think. After chasing myself around in circles, drinking an iced latte and window shopping, and then actual shopping, I realised that, nope. I was " in love" love with Roan.

Going back to the tavern that night had been awkward as all get out. I didn't know what to do with my hands, stuttering with the customers and just generally getting in the way.

Roan had slid me some wary looks over the night, trying to pull me aside to see if I was okay, but I dodged him at every turn. It was Mauvy that finally cornered me, dragging me back into the kitchens after I'd dropped and smashed half a dozen glasses. She plonked me down on one of the kitchen stools and stuck a plate of fries in front of me, and then she'd waited.

I think she and Dr Brordieu might be related, because her round eyes and eternal patience had me squirming and shoving extra fries into my mouth. Can't talk if your mouth is full, right?

But then Roan had walked into the kitchen to ask for one of the kitchen staff to run to the cellars for more of Caelan's rose petal wine. I'd flushed an undoubtedly attractive red colour, the pointy tips of my ears burning furiously.

All it took was for Mauvy to take one look at me, shoving even more potato in my mouth and she'd known. I saw it in her kind, round face. Except she wasn't kind then, she was exasperated, huffing something about men getting their shit together before she dies of old age, and then she pulled me into a hug, smashing my face into her more than ample bosom.

It'd been hard to chew the far too many fries in my mouth, but I managed and hugged her back, because Mauvy gives the best hugs, kind of like what I imagined a mother's would be like, if they weren't heartless and dead inside. You know?

She sent me back to work eventually, making me promise not to break anything else, or she'd have me scrubbing the grease traps.

"Don't tell him, please," I'd whispered, both my hands in hers as we pulled apart from another hug. Her full cheeks had almost squished her eyes shut with her smile, and she'd squeezed my hands.

I know everyone knew Roan and I were sleeping together—it's not like we're subtle about it. Especially not about the fact that he had spent every night in my bed since that first one. But I didn't want to be the poor sap they pitied, mooning over their boss and friend.

"I don't like keeping things from Roan. He's my best friend and business partner. But I won't tell him. You should though. And soon." She'd scoffed and smacked my arm when I'd dramatically rolled my eyes.

"That sounds terrible. Absolutely not. You give terrible advice, Mauvy. You should make it up to me with chocolate lava cake." She laughed and shoved me from the kitchen to get back to work.

But then I had a chocolate lava cake delivered to me with my lunch the next day when I was digging in the garden.

I keep floating on my back in the cool water, occasionally dragging my arms through the waves to move myself about. Even though today is my day off, I've got to be careful of the time, so I keep an eye on the sun as it passes overhead.

Over the last month, I've been taking them, days off I mean, much to everyone's joy. Apparently, they'd all had Big Conversations about me avoiding emotions through work, just like Roan said. I've only had four sessions with the good Doctor, and he'd agreed. I'd been well and truly outvoted, and so I agreed to lay off a bit.

At first it sucked, especially because it meant that progress had slowed a little on the house, but it had been very apparent that I had two settings—overworked, or depressed mess holed up in a nest in my bed. I'd sulked for a bit, but after a bit of practice, I'd gotten the hang of it. The only thing I haven't been able to give up is the garden.

I've been working there every day, puttering around, planning, digging, building. What the hard work in the house had done for my self confidence and mind, the garden was doing for my spirit.

Things have been happening.

Strange things.

The first was two weeks ago. I'd had some seeds in my hand that I found in an unmarked envelope in the cupboard under the stairs in the house. I had no idea what they were and was thinking about just throwing them in the freshly made garden beds and seeing what happened.

I didn't have high hopes, considering it was the middle of summer and I didn't know what the seeds were, let alone when they were meant to be planted. I'd stood in the garden, between two of the long garden beds, next to the arches I'd prematurely erected.

The seeds were nearly just over a centimetre in length and black with white stripes. I was about seventy-percent sure they were sunflower seeds, but I was willing to just roll the dice.

I had the little black seeds in my palm, staring at them, thinking about the possibility of them… and I'd felt a tingle in my hand. It was pleasant and warm.

Then they started to sprout.

Like little popcorn kernels in my palm, their little green shoots popping out of their shells like excited caterpillars.

I'd dropped them all in shock, and then quickly scrounged along the gravel paths, all freshly laid and raked by yours truly, to find the precious babies and get them in the soil. Turns out I was right, and they were sunflowers.

Now they are six feet tall.

I'm definitely not a professional gardener, but that seems a little fast.

The other seeds I'd thrown in, again all unmarked from the cupboard, have also been sprouting fast, too. I have a trellis overflowing with cucumbers, more tomatoes than neither I nor Mauvy know what to do with, and a very delicious fruit I don't know the name of with thick purple skin and vibrant green inner flesh that is sweet and tangy and my new obsession.

I have plants growing, thriving , that are more than out of season. They shouldn't even be grown here. I make sure I give them the best love and care that I can, even in my ignorance, so I haven't put the phenomenal growth down to anything suspicious. I just thought maybe they were enchanted seeds Inigo had picked up, you know? Maybe it's the soil from the Woods.

But then there are the storms.

Seff was over, and we were cobbling together an irrigation system between the rain water and the well. Honestly, the whole lack of electricity thing out here was enough to drive me around the bend.

We were both getting frustrated with the piping, and I'd thrown myself dramatically on a garden bed declaring, with every ounce of feeling in my body, that it would be easier if it would just rain .

The sky had been a brilliant clear blue, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, thick black clouds rolled in, dumping fat raindrops over the tavern grounds. Seff and I had scurried to the house to escape the deluge, laughing and giggling like mad. But then, when we'd collapsed on the empty floor of what will one day soon be my living room, he looked at me with a curious look on his beautiful face.

"Was that you?" He'd looked at me more keenly than, I admit, I'd ever given him credit for. It was easy to take Seff's playfulness for ignorance, but it would be a dangerous mistake to make. He was all wolf underneath the sweet exterior.

I stared at him, confused and a little bewildered because it was a pretty shocking coincidence. But then, with the sunflower seeds and the garden?

When the clouds rolled in, there had been that same peculiar tingle as the time with sunflowers, or the warm buzzing feeling I get when I'm tending to the garden… almost like before. With my gifts, my powers. But different in a way I haven't pinpointed yet. Even now, it's been too sporadic and surprising to pin down.

"How could I have done that?" I'd shoved a finger in the direction of the nearest window to the rain dumping down.

Seff turned his head just in time to see the rain cease and the clouds lift, bright sunshine beaming through the window like we'd imagined it all. He'd turned back to face me, his eyes narrowed, carefully considering.

I'd felt horribly exposed. But then he'd broken into his usual goofy grin, wrapping one big, thick arm around me to pull me under his armpit for a noogie. He's such a shit. We'd managed to get the irrigation set up easily after that—not that the saturated grounds needed water that day.

And then there are the creatures. Just the thought has me quickly checking the shadowy perimeter of the Falls. I feel like I'm going mad even thinking it. Which is why I've explained this all to absolutely no one, not even Roan.

And I tell him everything now.

Well, except all this.

And everything with Darius.

Ok, I tell Roan some of the things, more than I tell anyone else.

It started on my second trip back to the Falls on my own. I'd been walking along, trying to remember the path, though it didn't have the tendency to change or confuse a traveller like the other paths of the Whisper Woods.

It was hot, and I'd been lost in my thoughts. Mainly thoughts about how Roan had sucked my cock so well that morning that I'd pulled a neck muscle when I came.

My neck was aching, and I was massaging it as I walked. But then it started to feel strange, like eyes were on me. Watching. I'd paused, finally paying attention to my surroundings, just as a nabras appeared from the shadows of the trees. I'd nearly wet myself in fright facing the giant creature and its giant yellow eyes watching me intently out of its massive bird-like head.

The beast's feathers were a shining grey colour, with an eerie green sheen to them in the light. The feathers around its face, and its deceptively small black beak—deceptive because the thing's mouth transformed when hungry, unhinging and growing large enough to swallow a large man whole—were tipped with white.

The dark grey-green fur on its chest looked soft enough to pat, if you wanted a quick death that is, but the fur melded into those brilliant large feathers on its back and wings. The beast's two legs, like absurdly large chicken legs with black feet and deadly black claws, scratched on the Woods floor while it observed me.

The nabras twitched its head from one side to the other and then warbled a pretty call to me. Another head twitch and a ruffle of feathers.

Safe.

I'd known the word came from the nabras. I hadn't heard it so much as felt it. Like an impression in my brain. Intangible yet somehow very real.

Not wanting to spook the deadly creature, I nodded and smiled thanks like an idiot and kept on walking. But then it happened again. And again.

Not just with the nabras herd that were residents of the Falls— other creatures had begun making themselves known to me, too. They weren't talking to me—communication with creatures is a gift that was pretty much unheard of. Many had claimed it, but it was always universally debunked.

This was an awareness, a connection, an impression. And this was why I hadn't told anyone, because how do you explain it? It felt easier to take each individual odd occurrence as a random blip, no matter how much they were starting to build into a rather damning collection that others began to notice.

But that is all very much neither here nor there, because the sun is very much past the halfway point in the sky, which means it's time to leave my little oasis and head back to the tavern to shower and get ready for another one of Caelan and Tor's bonfires.

We've had two so far this summer, another one of those small but impossibly big changes in my life. Who ever thought Tor and I would be close enough to be having friendly bonfires together? On the cosy homestead he shares with his bearded bonded mate of all the places.

Edith had made it to the first but not the second—she'd been caught up doing Edith things. Probably randomly hiding wine throughout the Woods, considering they drank some on my rescue.

Should I give her some bottles to replace them as a thank you? Wine for risking her life does sound like a very Edith appropriate gift, so I make a mental note of it and start swimming back to the shore from where I'd drifted to the centre of the pool.

I don't really bother to towel myself off—the humidity of the Woods on the walk home was just going to have me sweating anyway. I just want to get home and have a shower. Roan can actually make it tonight. Last time he had to work, and I caught a ride with Seff. I am trying to not get too excited about it; we're still in that ambiguous friends with orgasms situation. And my brother will be there, obviously, because it's his house.

Roan and I are the worst-kept secret. Everyone's just agreed to not talk about it. And by everyone agreeing to not talk about it, I definitely do not mean my brother.

Tor cornered me when he was here helping me paint the downstairs hall last week. I don't know why I keep inviting him to help because he is terrible at it, but it's nice to have the brotherly bonding thing, I guess. Anyway, he cornered me and started asking if I was okay, asking if there was anything big happening in my life that maybe I need to discuss with him. Get some advice .

My brother one hundred and ten-percent thinks I am, or was, a virgin. Not a giant stretch of the imagination but ouch .

I distracted him by telling him I was going to therapy, and he'd been so happy, his purple cheeks flushing with pink, before he picked me up into a giant bear hug.

He's a good brother, he really is. I just don't want to discuss my sex life with him. Or see the pitying look on his face when he figures out that I've fallen hopelessly in love with Roan, and he still sees me as the wounded bird he's nursing back to life.

A small voice in the back of my head—it sounds remarkably like Doctor Brordieu—reminds me that it's unfair to put that on Roan, that it's my own insecurities, and his words and actions show me every day how much he values me .

But I'm a work in progress, and sometimes progress is slow. Pretty sure it was Roan that pointed that out to me in the first place.

With one foot in front of the other, I make it back to the tavern. Roan is waiting for me by my garden, leaning one elbow casually against the posts of the fence I'd repaired all by myself. He's still in his white work shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms in the way that is universally sexy, his tree trunk thighs stretching his tan pants with his legs crossed.

And that harness. I love that harness. His eyes light up when he spots me. He must be hot—the sun is beating down, and he's fully clothed, always a shame.

I walk towards him, like a thread is tied between us, the knot pulling us closer. Absently, I am aware that if I were in one of those cartoons I used to sneak when I was a kid, my eyes would be shooting love hearts in his direction, so I try to tone it down, schooling my face into something more neutral.

I obviously fail because when I reach him, I let my eyes feast up on him, gobbling up every inch of him before pulling on one of the harness straps. It's leather, so it doesn't snap, but it does tip him off balance, tumbling him into me. He catches me, like he always does, righting us both, but he keeps us pressed together, from chest to toe. Just how I like it.

"I like this harness. You should wear it for me one night." Heat floods his eyes, and they narrow on my lips. His head dips, and he steals a fierce kiss that burns my blood. But he pulls away before we can get too into it.

"Noted." He nods over his shoulder to the garden. "Garden's doing well."

I pull out of his arms, delighting that I've left a me-shaped wet mark over his front, and dance away.

"Turns out I am an exceptional gardener." I preen like a goofball.

He isn't buying it for a second, but I don't have an answer for him, so I turn and walk towards the tavern, putting a little extra wiggle in my step. I hear his grunt behind me, before he calls out something about leaving in thirty minutes. I turn back to blow a kiss and make my way up to the tavern.