She wrinkled her nose, playfully punching him in the arm. “Oh come off it. Memphis caught me after class and mentioned you might be skulking around somewhere in this general direction.”
“Of course he did,” Brokk breathed out, returning his attention back to his walk.
Naturally, Emory wasn’t deterred one bit. “Was it Iasan again?”
Both she and Memphis were privy to his opinion about their training teacher. Iasan was ruthless, a trained killer, and expected them to have no compassion, no mercy. It was dummies now they were practicing on, but when it wasn’t? When they killed without a second thought? He never wanted to lose his empathy or his intolerance for taking another life, even if he attained the skills.
Emory’s mouth turned down in a grim line as she walked beside him. “I can talk to my dad again,” she offered.
“That went so well last time.” A strangled chuckle came out of him. “No, I can deal with Iasan, just not today, Em.”
Unclenching his fists at his side, he didn’t remark on Emory’s father, Roque Fae. Everywhere he went, he oozed of authority and structure; of might and discipline. He was severe, a ruler in every right. He was a desolate and one of the most influential people in Kiero. The fact he was a desolate didn’t make him any less intimidating. He thought very highly of his instructors and of his government, and Brokk clearly remembered the last time Emory had gone to him about Iasan.
“He is the best in his field, the best throughout the country. Brokk should be willing to challenge himself instead of limiting himself due to his heart.”
Emory had relayed his message mockingly, but the words had cut through Brokk. This was their leader, the person everyone praised. The man everyone looked up to. The man Brokk never went to with his concerns again after that.
Frowning, his doubts clawed at his mind as they climbed in comfortable silence, the melody of the forest creatures floating out to them. Heard, but unseen. It was soothing and melancholy, the soft music dripping with life and isolation. He knew those melodies fell on deaf ears, but he was always listening, his personal orchestra overlapping in beautiful harmonies, igniting him.
In the ancient woods, that was the place he was truly free. The forest lines blurring as he ran, the moon’s light mapping his way, feeling the earth under his paws, as Brokk lost himself in his animal instinct. Those heartbreaking laments of the fellow creatures that could be found in the darkness tugged at him.
Calling him to come back, to come home.
To him, being a shapeshifter was a gift. That part of himself, of his ability, was part of his very core. The yearning for wildness, for freedom, for power. People had been afraid at first, thinking that he couldn’t control himself - that he would hurt someone. The wolf and man were one; each skin he wore was him. That part of himself he was always in control of.
It was his other ability that he kept tucked close to his heart, locked in the darkest shards of his soul. The one that scared him, the one he didn’t understand. The one that was growing. Waiting for that trigger moment where it would explode from him, emblazoned and uncontrolled. The one he had told no one about.
Swallowing hard, Brokk brought himself back to Emory’s crystal laugh, to her smile, to her gentle brushes of their fingers. He was drowning in the stormy seas of his fears, and she was his anchor. Had always been his anchor.
She raised a delicate dark brow at him murmuring, “It would seem we have a visitor.”
Snapping his attention forward, he stalled. “Do you want me to take care of this?”
Emory rolled her eyes. “Brokk, I have known him since I was a little kid. He doesn’t scare me. You shouldn’t let him get under your skin.”
Brokk took in Adair Stratton stalking toward them. He was gangly, tall, and thin. His dark gaze held only one person, and Brokk felt himself blush. Adair held such an intensity for Emory it was unsettling. The Faes and the Strattons were best friends, and that extended toward their children.
Adair stopped, sneering at Brokk, and didn’t even acknowledge him. “Emory, we are to go see our parents. Immediately.” His voice was smooth and deep, like still water.
A sly smirk tugged at the corners of Emory’s lips. “To discuss very important matters, I’m sure.”
Adair nodded, tilting his head as he practically ravished her with his eyes. The hair on the back of Brokk’s neck stood on end, and he wanted to snarl, to protect Emory from Adair’s dark seducing gaze. Not a single bone in Brokk’s body trusted him. Not. One.
Adair offered his arm to Emory, which she took with an apologetic look toward Brokk. “See you later, Brokk. Duty calls.”
Feebly waving goodbye, Brokk bore his gaze into Adair’s back as they walked away: light and dark, oil and water mixing. Brokk caught a snippet of Adair’s voice as they walked - “Emory, honestly, what do you see in him?”
This time a snarl did break through his lips, and Brokk shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths. Adair had a special talent to break his patience, preaching to Emory that she was above her friendship with Memphis and himself. That she was above them. Emory, of course, had always done what she wanted, ignoring Adair’s poisonous words. Ones Adair thought was lost to them.
Yet, she always let him in, always answered his beck and call. Brokk couldn’t help but see past her façade and thought a part of her was spellbound by Adair and would bend to his will wholly.
He hated it. Yet, he also tolerated their friendship
