My broken, crushed, and shattered feelings – that I need to ignore.
Because I can’t change any of this, nothing except for the direction of my thoughts.
He gives the grate on the cast-iron stove a jiggle, shoves another log in, and opens the flue up. I hover next to the now half-demolished bag of flour, with the scoop on top. The thing is begging to be my next distraction.
And really, this is Seth’s fault. Because he has his back to me and he should know how easily tempted I am in the first place. My world grabs onto this distraction so severely that I couldn’t stop myself right now if I wanted to.
I grab the scoop, filling it with flour in the same motion, then close the distance to Seth and watch the long white stream pour over his head with a crooked smile on my lips. I tug the neck of his shirt out and let it run down his back.
“Vexy,” he groans.
Then turns sharply and dives at me and I run – face first into solid-nothing.
Hard.
Followed by eye-watering, staggering-backward, and face-on-fire pain. I pinch the bridge of my nose as blood pours from it.
“That’s new,” Seth says.
He guides me to the sink, and I lean over it, the blood dripping into the stone tub and slowly finding its way down the drain.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying not to get blood everywhere.
The tingling settles, but it wasn’t that bad to begin with. It should have been horrible – noses chuckin’ hurt – but instead it was a better distraction than the flour.
It was… exhilarating...
Heavy footsteps on the stairs make the whole damn building shake, and the glass in the window above the sink rattles in its frame.
“Killian?” I guess.
Seth makes a chuffing noise. “Because Darkness cares if your nose is bleeding?”
He’s right.
“Pax,” we both say.
I don’t see what happens next, my head bent over the sink, but Seth steps quickly away, and a soft hand comes to rest on the small of my back. I have to check before I’m sure that it’s Pax’s hand because the sensation is hollow – dead. Empty.
But it is Pax. Bright-eyed and damned handsome-featured Pax.
“I promise I don’t normally have this much trouble walking and breathing at the same time,” I joke, each word nasally.
He tucks my hair behind my ear, lines creasing his forehead. His worry makes me worry – and I like acting like nothing’s wrong.
Faking usually works for me.
He looks me in the eye, holding my gaze with his golden depths. I realize we really haven’t had a private conversation since that moment in the inn when I was telling him we need to undo this mating thing. And that little bit of quiet after I healed my arm.
I know there are some intense factors – saving the world and all of that – but he’s pretty happy sitting on the other side of the fire. Quite content only coming near me when I’m unconscious. I’m grateful Seth has been left in the role of Shade-sitting – at least I have my Sethy. If I get really critical, it’s also easy to accuse Killian of sparring with anyone who is willing, just poking his head into my life here and there unless it’s to spar – or train – with me. And Roarke’s been up in the attic, buried in books so deep he doesn’t even acknowledge my need to pee. And Pax – Pax spends most of his time commanding from his throne.
“It’s just a bleeding nose,” I tell him, relaxing my grip enough to check if the bleeding has stopped.
I twist the tap, letting a dribble of water escape to rinse my fingers, and start splashing water at my face.
“You’ve got blood on your clothes,” he says.
I’ve barely started trying to clean up when he flicks the tap off and picks me up.
“Pax,” I squeal – not excited squeal, just shocked squeal. “I can walk.”
“Walking, for you, is getting dangerous,” he says, carrying me up the stairs.
I catch Seth’s eye. The guy’s sitting on one of the couches, smirking at me.
“You need a proper shower,” Pax says – carrying me up the stairs.
Kitten is curled in Seth’s lap not just crying – but sobbing. My woman is sobbing, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Pax went upstairs, but Killian and I have slipped outside. Not because I don’t have a lot of work to do in that attic, just because I can’t listen to her distress when I’m so helpless to make things right.
“She’s crying,” Killian rumbles, adding, “Fuck necessary.”
He stomps beside me down the pebbled path all the way to the cliff. The surface shines in places, reflecting the muffled daylight, but aside from the natural light and dark to it, I couldn’t have made it more smooth or clean if I actually tried.
“Seth never said,” I begin, skipping over a few words to the more important part of the sentence. “Crying but alive is still our best option.”
Killian stops, folds his arms over his chest, and offers a grunt at the wall like communication is possible.
“It should last a few hours. We can feed her, then put her to sleep. She won’t need the potion while she sleeps. Then recharge it when she wakes.”
I begin to pace, thinking about the potions and the Spring and the bubble and Kitten. Killian just stands with his arms crossed and his glare on the wall. Is a dead end the start or finish of a path?
It hurts my head to think about it, but it hurts my chest not to.
Solution.
Solution.
Solution.
Harmony.
Three Paces
“You need a proper shower,” Pax says – carrying me up the stairs.
“I can do that on my own too.”
He stops suddenly at the bedroom door and puts me on my feet.
“You’re right –” he begins, but gets cut off by the door downstairs slamming shut.
“Why do I smell
