Page 61 of The Musician and the Monster

“Are you all right? Truly?” he asked. She’d claimed to be fine, but her voice had lacked conviction.

She stepped away from his embrace and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve endured worse. As you can see, I walk just fine.”

Indeed, she did, but still, he couldn’t forgive himself for the pain he caused her—physical and non.

“You should never have suffered at my hand,” he whispered. “For that, I am forever shamed. But your music helps me more than you know.” He closed the distance between them, wishing to pull her into his arms and barely holding himself back. “It keeps…mein check. Even your voice. I pushed it too far, tried too much. I thought with you there that I had enough control, but I was wrong. Please, give me another chance, just until midwinter.”

She turned away again, hugging her arms more closely around herself. Snowflakes fell on her exposed skin, melting immediately, though a few clung to her hair. Drystan hastily unbuttoned his coat and shrugged out of it. If she wouldn’t let him hold her close, at least he could warm her in this way. He draped the coat around her shoulders, causing her to gasp softly and turn within the cage of his arms.

“You’ll freeze,” she protested, reaching for the edge of one lapel.

He settled his palms on her shoulders, holding the coat in place. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does.” Her throat bobbed as she looked up at him from under her lashes. “To me.”

And just like that, she shattered him in an entirely different way than he expected.

“Ceridwen.” He cupped her cheeks, framing her face within his grasp.

Hesitantly, she drew closer, the space between them vanishing until the front of his coat pressed against his shirt. He should be cold in just that, but with her so close, he’d never been more content.

“Drystan.” Her eyes fluttered closed, and his heart nearly stopped.

He leaned in, intent to savor the gift of her kiss until a loud voice boomed behind him, “Step away from my sister!”

Chapter 28

Drystan

The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Ceridwen gasped, her eyes flying open. She made to step away from him, but he cocooned her in his arms, holding her close from the threat at his back.

His monster roared within him, echoing his own fury at the untimely interruption. Drystan turned his head just enough to take in the sight of Ceridwen’s brother. His mask had been cast off at some point, leaving his dark hair slightly mussed, a match for the anger flashing in his dark eyes. Other men flooded out of the back exit behind him, and one woman—her sister, Bronwyn.

Worse than the crowd forming outside the hall was the object in Adair’s hand. A sword. Drystan’s lips nearly pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. The boy had no idea what fury he tempted.

“Stay out of this, Adair,” Ceridwen demanded with as much fire in her voice as he’d heard the night she met Malik.

In this, they were aligned.Good.

Her brother ignored her, but Bronwyn didn’t. Something that might have been regret flashed across the young woman’s features before she retreated a few steps.

So she had informed their brother about Ceridwen’s whereabouts. His jaw stiffened. What else had she told him?

“This wannabe Lord Protector only appears to flirt with the ladies,” Adair said. Some of his words were slurred, and now Drystan could make out the hint of a flush on his cheeks.

A hothead and a drunk. A terrible combination, especially in someone who knew his title.

“I’ll handle this,” Drystan whispered to Ceridwen before releasing her from his embrace and positioning himself between her and her brother. To Adair, he said, “Go back inside before you embarrass yourself further. You forget your place.”

If he had any sense left, he’d take the warning.

“Oh? And where is that? At least I protect this city. We all do.” He gestured to the men around him. Friends in the city watch? One could barely stand. Drystan huffed air through his nose. What a pitiful group they made. “What have you done for this city that’s not to please yourself?” Adair continued.

Drystan wrestled for control of his fury, using the last shred of his calm to don the casual attitude he’d worn when he entered the damnable ball. He raised his chin and forced a smirk to his lips. “I keep the monster at bay.”

“Hah.” Adair slapped his leg in mock amusement. Grins spread across the faces of some of the other men. “Yes, the monster, the one few have ever seen. I’m sure one rabid wolf gives you much trouble. I think I could take it easily. One swing of my blade.” He swung the sheathed sword in a slow arc.

They truly had no idea that the monster could take them all down with ease. Drystan clenched his hand into a fist at his side, even as he kept his casual facade in place.

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