5. Roan

Roan

I slide the bowl of pretzels down the bar to the waiting patron and try not to stare at the empty stool at the end of the bar. Theo's stool. Tucked away, close enough to the door to the kitchens that most people wouldn't notice him. Or so he thinks.

He has come down a few hours before closing every night to read and "keep me company" for the past week and a half while I catch up on fluffy admin tasks. Mostly it's just a cover to keep him occupied and out of his room, but my already tidy books have never been this organised. Mauvy is chuffed over the whole situation, especially since I started doing the ordering for the kitchens and polishing the silver after I ran out of things to do.

But just because he thinks the handful of patrons in the bar most nights don't notice him, doesn't mean he's correct. It just means that any time they've dared to go near him they've been met with a harsh warning from myself, Mauvy, or Seldon, who have both taken to protecting our silent sentinel like he is a wild animal they are attempting to train into being a friend.

They aren't entirely wrong.

Theo is skittish. He skips the busier nights, choosing to stay in his room, and I've found I really missed his silent company. Edith, Seff, Tor, and Caelan have all been by regularly and are over the moon to finally see him out of his nest. They say he still isn't talking much, but hey, it's a start, right?

Tonight is one of those busier nights, which is expected for a weekend. So to say I am shocked to see his shy form, hidden in the overflowing layers of his too big, borrowed clothes, making its way down the stairs is an understatement. Especially since his brother and Caelan were by earlier today while I was out.

I'm more than a little stunned to watch his shock of vibrant, copper curls make their way closer to me. To the bar, I mean. Because that's where he's headed, definitely not to me , specifically. That would be ridiculous; I'm nearly ten years older than him, and he's not in the place for that sort of thing, is he?

Shit. Getting wildly ahead of myself here. He does that to me.

I can't help my body's hyper awareness of him , that primitive little pull in my chest telling me to snatch him up and throw him over my shoulder to hide him in my small cabin out in the back where I could - yeah, doing it again.

Probably best not to think about all that right now. Not only would that plan go down like a sack of lead with him, but the last thing I need right now is for my cock to get any harder in my pants. One of the feral animals around here is bound to notice and make a big deal out of it. He makes his way carefully across the bar, completely oblivious to the stares of the beings crowding the bar.

I keep my eyes trained on Theo as he approaches, devouring every detail of his pale face, with its sharp, high cheekbones and the dusting of vibrant freckles across the bridge of his nose, his strawberry lips curled into a shy smile. He shoulders his way past a loud and blustery crowd of fauns to jump up onto his usual stool at the end of the bar.

For someone that spends all day in bed, he looks exhausted. His unnaturally pale skin starkly contrasts the dark shadows under his eyes.

It doesn't help that he's wearing more of Seldon's old clothes—an oversized forest green sweater rolled up at the sleeves and a baggy pair of jeans that I am pretty sure were more of a slim fit on Seldon when I last saw them . The outfit swallows him, making him look smaller, more vulnerable.

Something stirs in my chest— a tight feeling that has me rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck. That insidious possessive part of me hates seeing him in someone else's clothing. But considering he still hasn't arranged for his things to arrive from his home in Loqueaur, and obviously hasn't been up for a trip to Twin Heads to go shopping, it's the only real practical solution.

Other than him roaming the tavern naked, and while I'd definitely be up for that, I don't think going on a rampage against the patrons of my tavern for looking at him would be a great idea.

Might be a bit of fun though. It's been a while since I've had a good brawl. I mean, there was the time in the cottage. But I mean a good brawl. Not a life and death situation. There is a difference, even if Mauvy has never really gotten it.

Theo sets himself up with his book and the bowl of nuts he helps himself to over the bar, studiously ignoring the fauns jostling him, as they exuberantly recreate a fight that had occurred earlier in the week at their gathering.

Well, I think it was a fight from the looks of it? The wrestling is awfully… gropey.

A level of rowdiness is expected here this late on a weekend, and Theo seems to be okay with them, so I let their behaviour slide.

Until one of the wrestlers shoves his opponent a little too hard, sending the other faun flying into Theo.

There is a horrifying moment, panic overtaking his face, as his chair wobbles precariously and topples to the side. Theo crashes to the floor in a loud clatter. The fauns quickly rush to his aid, scrambling to right the stool and help pick him up, but their flurry of apologies are drowned out.

" Get! OUT!"

Drowned out by me apparently. Fury boils through my veins as I do the one thing I have tried to avoid my whole tenure as Keeper of the Tavern - allow my berserker rage to show.

Red hazes my vision as I watch the fauns fall all over themselves and Theo, trying to get away from him. I can feel the power pulsing in my veins, a violent throb that feels like a marching beat, pushing me to fight, battle, protect .

A low growl rattles through the now silent tavern and a dim part of my brain recognises that it comes from me. I know I need to knock this shit off, but this anger is too big, too fresh for me to contain.

My nostrils flare, my breath a rough snort as I take a step towards the cowering fauns as they scramble back into the other patrons— my patrons—sputtering apologies and pleading for mercy.

The bar itself blocks my advance and just as I prepare to leap over the bastard thing, a firm smack clips the back of my head.

I shake it off with a grunt, but the interruption gives me a blessed moment of clarity, an opportunity to pull myself back from the abyss of doing something monumentally, and unforgivably, stupid.

The rage pumping through me slowly dissipates, settling into something much more murky, like regret. Beside me, out of the corner of my eye I see the deliverer of my much deserved smack.

Mauvy, in all of her five-feet-nothing-if-she-is-lucky glory, on her stool, arms crossed across her ample chest, glowers from behind her thick round glasses.

"Do I need to do it again? I will. Gladly." She sounds a little too keen to deliver another slap for my liking, but focusing on her familiar face is helping me get a handle on the roil of emotions clouding my thinking. Her brows furrow in assessment, her arm drawing back for another whack.

"I'm good." It comes out as a rough grunt as I struggle to catch hold of my breathing.

Mauvy is staring at me like I am a complete stranger—and a dangerous one at that, which is saying a lot.

She and I have been friends since we were tiny little babies. Her parents had been here a little too regularly, and we basically grew up together until my Uncle Inigo just moved her in with us as a young teen.

She knows full well how hard I work to keep cool and calm and never let my berserker heritage take over. I've certainly never raged out like this before.

I manage to take in three deep lungfuls of breath, each one burning my chest. The fauns are still collecting themselves from the floor. I haven't dared look at Theo yet. What must he be thinking? Already, the whole Black Stump had screeched to a halt to watch my shit show go down.

I drop my head and try to relax my body into a less aggressive stance, forcing my muscles into submission.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. Sincerely. I overreacted." The band of fauns, only six of them in all, stammer for a moment, backing towards the exit, bumping into things as they go.

"Gods, enough of this. You lot, head outside, it's where you should've been anyway with the way you carry on. Hildy will be out with some drinks for you on the house soon enough, okay?" Mauvy turns her stern eye to the rest of the tavern, clapping her hands once and making a shooing motion, "and you lot can mind your own business. Get on with yourselves."

And this is why she is my second in command. We often joke that we are each other's platonic life partner, both tied to the tavern we call home. Soon enough, the fauns find their way outside, eagerly awaiting their delivery from our weekend waitress while the rest of the tavern go back to their previous endeavours, unwilling to cross Mauvy. After all, she is usually the scary one around here.

"Ok, well, now that's over, I have things to do in the kitchen. Keep your shit together, I don't have time to take care of you and everything else around here."

Only now does she spot Theo cowering in the corner, doing his very best to remain invisible. It is almost comical to see the quick change from being intensely serious and kind of threatening to warm and friendly.

"Theo, my darling! I am so glad you made your way downstairs. I'll fetch you something to eat." There is a small clop when she jumps off her stool and makes her way around the bar, patting Theo's arm fondly as she passes him . Theo's cheeks flame at the casual affection, and the roller coaster of emotions I seem to be on tonight takes a sharp turn, my stomach swooping.

"Don't bother about me, I already ate," his voice trails after her as she shoves open the heavy swinging kitchen door.

"Wasn't a suggestion." I chuckle at her sing-song reply as the door swings shut, adding a nice punch to her rejoinder. I nod to the stool he'd been tipped from that he is now hovering near, aware that there was now a long line forming at the bar I had to deal with.

"I really am sorry about that. I was—" I huff a breath and scrub a hand over my jaw, unsure how to explain my fit of possessive fury. Unable to find the words, I wave my hand, like I can just scrub the incident from existence.

Theo at least sits. He seems hesitant, but still, he parks that cute little butt of his on the stool and pulls out his book. The book I got him .

The roller coaster takes another swerve as an arrogant sort of pride makes my chest puff up a little that he enjoys my present, that I gave him something that no one else was able to.

Shaking my head again, I try to focus. "Never mind, anyway. I'm sorry. Did you want a drink or anything? Are you okay?" My hands are still clenching by my side, itching to grab Theo, to take him somewhere. Keep him safe. Check to make sure he's not injured. Maybe kiss him better… shit. No. Wrong track.

As my thoughts stray and that possessive fire surges again, I take a half step towards him. His eyes track the movement like prey being hunted, and his lips part with a sharp inhaled breath, making me freeze and instantly pull back. Fuck . I'm scaring him. After everything he's been through, here I am blundering around him like a feral animal in heat. Theo's eyes dart nervously down the bar towards the increasingly impatient beings waiting for me to finally give them my attention.

"Uh, I'm fine, Roan. Seriously. I'll just have a water, whenever you're free. No biggie." I nod and tap my knuckles on the bar, reluctant to move away from him as he opens the book to the dog-eared page, already focused on the words in front of him.

"Right, well, you know where I am if you need me." He doesn't even look up, just waves his hand.

Summarily dismissed, I roll my shoulders, dust off the whole awkward encounter, and move over to the deal with my customers.