6. Theo

Theo

It takes Roan longer than I thought it would to get back to me. I try to ignore him and focus on my book instead, but despite the protagonist, Ragomir, being in yet another deathly and horrifying jam, I can't help getting sidetracked by the hunky barkeep and the way his leather harness strains across his chest when he moves about the bar, lifting heavy things and just generally being hot.

It's distracting. Every so often, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of him pouring a beer from the brass taps, his white shirt rolled to his elbows, solid forearms flexing as he holds the glass in his dexterous fingers.

It was bad enough during that sexy as f- I mean , completely feral and terrible display when I'd been knocked off my stool, but just watching the quietly confident way he goes about his work, the way he laughs and jokes with his customers, and his friends, it drives me a little crazy. I am more than a little afraid that if he dares to come over here and carry on our conversation, I'll do something incredibly stupid, like pounce on him and rub myself all over him until we both cum.

But no doubt if I did, he would do something mortifying like set me somewhere safe and pat me on the head like the child he thinks I am. Someone weak. And in need of protection. And there goes my boner . Silver linings and all that.

As I pretend to read and instead watch him like the pathetic sap I am, I pick at the roast chicken dinner Mauvy delivered before disappearing to her rooms for the night. Apparently she lives above the guest rooms—didn't even realise there was space up there.

The food is good—Mauvy's food always is—which is saying a lot because our chef growing up had been trained in the finest kitchens around the world. But while Edouard's food had been beautifully crafted delicacies, Mauvy's food is different, homelier, cosier. It doesn't just feed your body; it feeds your spirit. Maybe that's her magic? She's a faun after all.

My appetite is still really struggling since my rescue and living on Marieth's gruel for far too long. So I really just push the chicken and vegetables around in the gravy. Nibbling at what I can while I force my eyes back to the words on the page and not to devouring Roan as he throws back his head and lets out a booming laugh at whatever the hot vampire falling all over herself at the bar is saying to him. I'm not even sure if he swings that way, but it still raises my hackles.

Before , before I lost my gift and my fae magic, I would have been able to make the glass of blood teetering in her hand spill over the cleavage currently attempting to bust out of the lace of her top.

But I can't , and the reminder flames something even pettier and more childish inside me.

Which obviously makes it the perfect time for Roan to make his way over to me. It takes every ounce of my pitiful self control to keep my eyes on my book. I must've read the same sentence a dozen times, but I still have no idea what the words on the page mean because Roan has completely invaded my space, sparking electricity across my skin.

He leans across the bar, elbows resting on the wooden surface. He's so close that his hair brushes my cheek, his breath fanning across my hands. The spicy scent of him blending with the hoppy smell of the beer he's been serving is not something I ever thought would be erotic, but here we are.

My breath shudders from my lips as I try desperately to rein in my thundering heartbeat. He is so close—too close ; the need to say something, to poke at him and push him—and this too big feeling—away, surges within me, but he has scrambled my brain, turning me into a mindless idiot.

I pray to the Gods that he doesn't notice how my hands tremble when I fold over the corner of my book to mark my page—something Darius always badgered me over.

The reminder of my quasi-ex, and the fact that I should probably get in contact with him and the entirety of my old life like Tor reminded me this morning, is enough to reset my equilibrium and gain back some of my sanity.

"What are you doing?" The words are harsher than I intended, and Roan stills for a moment. Regret needles me, especially when he withdraws, taking in my scowl and countering it with a cheeky grin that seems to make his dark eyes a little brighter.

"Just grabbing a little snack." He nabs a nut from my discarded half filled bowl and tosses the thing in his mouth. I try not to be jealous of the salty little treat, but my patheticness knows no bounds as I watch him lick the salt from his lips. "I've been busy."

I slide the book closer to myself, tugging it close to my chest and hugging it tight, to keep my hands from doing something stupid.

"I noticed. It's a busy night." Is that a squeak in my voice? Smooth, Theo, smooth. Gods.

Roan shifts to match my stance, crossing his arms and stepping his feet out wide to brace his considerable mass. His head tilts as he considers me. The intensity of his gaze feels like too much again, and I can feel the stupid blush heating my cheeks, neck, and ears under my freckles.

"Weekends usually are. Was a bit surprised to see you tonight, to be honest."

I focus on the shining buckle of his leather harness and gulp. He's right, it really goes against my usual M.O. to be out here while there are so many other beings with us.

I rake my hand over my head, unsettling my hair. It's probably due for a cut, but I kind of like how long the curls are getting.

"Yeah, thought I would try something different. Uh, push my boundaries a bit." I am rewarded with a full smile from Roan now, the joy radiating from him as he beams at me, nodding.

His approval pokes at that peevish, irritable place inside of me that chafes against being everyone's good little boy. But for the first time in too long, even before my capture, the annoyance is duller and far outweighed by the good. The acknowledgement brings me up short, makes me want to confess more things in search of more of his approval.

"Tor came by today. He said that he and Caelan are hopefully going to head to Loqueaur City sometime next week."

Roan watches me carefully. "You going to go with them?"

Am I imagining it or does he sound… hesitant? I shake my head, dislodging a lock of hair that falls over my eye, and pick at the corner of the book I have hugged to my chest like a lifeline.

"Nah. I don't think I'm quite ready for that. But they offered to pack up my rooms at my parents' house. And sort things out at the University for me, get my laptop and phone and all my stuff. I will probably need to work things out there eventually. Leaving my position there is going to cause some headaches for my colleagues."

Roan grunts noncommittally. "You sure you want to quit?"

The laugh that escapes me is a little too loud and not very pleasant. "I have lost my gift, Roan. Without it I am just another average fae. And not even that considering I've lost my magic. There is nothing for me there anymore."

"You don't know that. It could come—" I know what he is about to say; it's what they've all said trying to comfort me, but it doesn't help, just ignites my temper simmering beneath the surface. And just like that, it flares in another outburst. I stand suddenly, my stool screeching on the flagstone floors as I shove it back.

"It's not coming back! It's gone! Forever! But if you want me gone that badly I'll—" I can almost see the rolling of his eyes as I spit my angry words at him.

I know I am being a petulant child but I cannot seem to help myself, my anger taking over. He holds his hands up, fingers splayed in the universal sign of surrender.

"Stop. I'm sorry. I get it. I am sorry." He gives me a moment to catch my panting breath and indicates to the stool, using a gentle wave of magic to stand it up again.

For what feels like the millionth time tonight, there are too many eyes from too many beings on me, and their scrutiny feels unwelcome, like bugs skittering along my skin. Embarrassment burns my cheeks. Is it any wonder he thinks I'm some broken little creature to be wrapped in cotton wool when I keep acting like this? No longer willing to cause a scene, and my temper fading, I return to my seat.

"And no, I don't want you to go anywhere. You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Though…" He eyes me again, like I'm a child he's scared of setting off into another fit. "Are you happy here?"

My shock is genuine, and I pull a face.

"Uh, yeah? I mean, it beats staying with my brother and hearing him and Caelan go at it all over the farm?"

Roan huffs a laugh and nods in agreement—we'd all had the unfortunate experience of hearing them on our trip back, and they had been enthusiastically reunited. It scarred me more than the whole kidnapped and nearly dying thing.

Roan leans forward on his elbows again, and I try not to inhale him like a junkie.

"Right, well, after that ringing endorsement, I have an idea. Maybe it's time that you have something to do with yourself during the day." He smirks at my raised eyebrow, my back immediately straightening, readying for a fight.

"Sitting in your room holding yourself prisoner isn't doing you any good. You need to get out and do things. Accomplishments and all that. I told you about the cottage at the back? You might have seen it the night you got here? Or maybe out your window?"

I try to cast my mind back to the night we arrived, but it had been late and chaotic and the very definition of overwhelming.

I had seen it out of my window. There are actually two cottages out there. A tiny little one that I know is Roan's—not that he is ever there except to sleep—and a larger one all behind the neglected, overrun kitchen garden. It looks like it has been more than a decade since anyone has stepped in the place.

"I know it. What about it?"

He raps his knuckles on the bar a couple of times and winks, while I try to stop my stomach from knotting itself up from his proximity.

"Right, well, it was my Uncle Inigo's. I actually grew up there with him and my parents. But I moved out into my place back when I was eighteen. It's been sitting there for just over a decade. I cleaned it out after he passed, but I never had it in me to deal with the place properly, then I got too busy here and time got in the way and now it's too big a job to handle."

If he has a point, I sincerely hope he finds it soon because my brain is turning to mush with the overstimulation of him coupled with the noise of the bar and too many people around. I'm not used to it anymore.

I give a small smile, hoping to encourage him to get to the point, and he chuckles. "Right, anyway, I suggested it before we got back, but I realised you probably forgot. I was thinking maybe you could fix it up. Like a project?"

"Roan, are you trying to take advantage of my fragile mental state for… free labour? Have you seen me?"

Roan sucks his teeth, dragging his eyes over me like a trail of fire, his grin turning sly. "I sure have, Theo, I sure have."

Is he… flirting with me? Surely not. Before I can second guess myself, or his intentions, he drops the heated looks and stands again, spreading his big hands on the bar top, distracting me with the thick vein trailing across the back of the left one up to his wrist.

"There isn't any construction type work. Well, there shouldn't be much. It just needs a good clean out. Maybe some patching and painting. Change things up." I stare at him, more than a little shocked but definitely intrigued. It's not something I had ever really done before.

Growing up as the pampered child prodigy in one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country—the world really—manual labour had never really been a necessity. Not that I've ever gone looking for it either.

"Gonna ask again because you seem to have confused me with someone else. Why me? Also, why would I agree to clean up your spare cottage? Don't you have employees for that sort of thing?" His bark of laughter attracts the attention of a group of shifters down the bar, and he waves them off.

"Careful brat, your privilege is showing." It's a testament to how bad I have it for this guy. Brat isn't exactly sweetheart, but my stomach swoops just the same, even while I try to convince myself I hate it.

Large hands drop onto my shoulders, yanking me backward into a hard wall of man, cutting off my snarky reply. I do, however, let out a super manly squawk of surprise.

My eyes are squeezed shut in fear as strong arms wrap me in a tight bear hug, lifting me off the stool. It's not until one of the big hands ruffles my hair, and I'm wondering what in the name of the Gods Roan is doing not interfering again, that I realise what's going on.

"Theo, buddy! You're downstairs! Good to see you, bro." Seff's deep voice rumbles in my ear as he deposits me back on my stool. Ignoring my glare, he throws his arm around my shoulder, tucking me under his armpit.

I wriggle a little, fighting just enough to appease the little demon beast inside me that is disgruntled by his oafishness, but then I settle in.

There is no fighting Seff and his affection; he needs it like he needs oxygen. Plus, I am not really going to complain about rubbing up against a giant, sexy himbo, am I?

"I didn't realise you were down here, or I'd have come in earlier." Roan's eyes are trained on Seff's arm around me, but everyone is more than used to Roan's weird protective daddy act and have made the collective decision to ignore him.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Seff waves off Roan's feigned indignation with a genial laugh.

"You know I love you. What are we talking about?" Noticing my discarded half dinner, he picks at a piece of chicken and puts it in his mouth. "Damn, that's good." The man is a savage, honestly, but I still roll my eyes affectionately and bump my shoulder into his chest.

"Sure, help yourself to my dinner. Actually, Roan was trying to con me into doing his house renovations under some weird pretence of it being some new self-help program."

"What the fuck, dude? He's meant to be re-" My shoulder to his chest is a lot sharper this time. I tug his arm hard, pulling him to face me.

"Do not finish that sentence if you know what's good for you." Seff's tanned, perfectly carved face splits into a million watt smile, and he ruffles my hair again, not at all helping my temper.

"Right. That. Sorry. Anyway." He looks down at me, his golden amber eyes taking in my scrawny body under Seldon's too big clothes. "Maybe a little hard work would be good for you."

His charming smile takes the edge off his words, especially since I don't think Seff has ever had a mean thought about anybody in his life. Roan, obviously sick of being ignored, clears his throat.

"And I'll help, obviously. Once you get it cleaned up enough, you can even move in there." He takes a beat, then continues, "That is, uh, until you're ready to move on or whatever." Over my head Seff shoots Roan another "what the fuck?" kind of look that he doesn't intend me to see but I catch out the corner of my eye. Roan just shrugs helplessly.

Not for the first time, I miss my fae magic and my knowing .

Not necessarily my gifted knowing , but that intuition that drives every fae. Without it, I feel rudderless. Now, I'm always missing a piece of the conversation, and I don't know how to make decisions for myself.

And this decision feels particularly heavy. I know I definitely don't want to go back to Loqueaur and my life at the University.

But do I want to commit to staying here at the Black Stump—with Roan?

I could always make my way to Twin Heads. It would still be close to Tor and Caelan, but probably not close enough. And I'd be on my own.

Here at the Black Stump, I would have everyone, this group of weirdos that have somehow adopted me into their little family.

I would have Roan, an idea that thrills me as much as it irritates me. I look into the depths of his slate grey eyes, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiles gently.

Even without my knowing , the rational part of my brain points out that agreeing to help with the stupid house doesn't mean I have to stay forever. Even if it sounds… nice.

"Fine, I'll do it." The two of them release their breath with comical timing, and Roan knocks on the bar again, the approval in his eyes making my stomach squirm with hot anticipation.

"Good. Excellent. Good choice."