Page 26 of Heartsong
She picked up the cat, hugging him to her and swaying. She would not quite meet his gaze when she said, “I’m sorry I left like that. I just…it’s a lot.”
Frey nodded slowly. “I understand.”
Anna nodded, too. “I guess I should’ve told you—I have the next few days off work. So you don’t have to worry when…”
One of the tight knots in his chest loosened. “I am pleased to hear it. You must be safe, my Anna. Always.” He’d accept nothing less.
She didn’t argue with his declaration, though her lips pursed ever so slightly. After a moment, Anna set Captain down and stuffed her hands back in the deep pockets of her garment.
“Do you want breakfast or…?”
“I don’t believe there’s time.”
Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to behold the gathering day. It would only be another moment now.
“Oh.” Her expression was somber when she turned her gaze back on him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Do not be. I willingly give up the day if it means nights with you.” As he said the words, he knew them to be true. The despondency still echoed inside him, but the sight of his mate, uncertain as she was, did give him heart.
Color bloomed across her cheeks at his words, and Frey took encouragement from the flustered way her gaze bounced around the room. His words pleased her.
I will not fail.
He would find a way to woo her. He would learn her world. He would prove himself a mate worth having.
Frey met every challenge, and winning his heartsong would be the most worthwhile of his life.
He didn’t need to see it when the sun peeked over the strange buildings outside. His joints stiffened and his skin hardened. The air in his lungs compressed, driven out with a gasp.
Anna watched on with a deep sympathy, even taking a step toward him.
Frey stopped her, holding out a stiffening hand. He didn’t know if being connected might mean she too turned to stone. He wouldn’t take the risk.
Lips pulled into an unhappy line, Anna whispered, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The promise soothed him, allowing him to stop fighting the change.
With the last of his air, he made a promise of his own. “Until tonight,fynghân.”
8
It was so weird to putter around her apartment into midmorning. Anna had sort of forgotten what weekend midmorning sunlight looked and felt like. Usually ensconced behind her desk, the brightness was a welcome change.
Well, sort of. She would’ve enjoyed it more if it hadn’t turned her houseguest into a statue.
He stood near the windows, his look somber. Still, it was better than the day before, when he’d frozen mid-step with arms outreached for her. He was much more statuesque today, and it allowed Anna a little more peace of mind about all this. Although, it did mean drawing the blinds closed and adding privacy film to her shopping list.
As she sipped her second cup of coffee and absentmindedly watched the local news for the third cycle, she tried to swallow her guilt over the night before. Anna believed in dealing with things head on; no problem went away by sweeping it under the rug—it was just under the rug now.
Everything he’d said, though…it was just too much. Too outlandish. Even now, her mind rejected the thought of being anyone’s soulmate and would’ve chalked up the very idea of early-medieval magical monsters as a side effect of her meds if one wasn’t currently adorning her living room.
She’d chewed on what Frey had said late into the night, and this morning, her mind found the familiar ruts of disbelief and incredulity.
Maybe he was a fluke. An anomaly. Maybe she’d lost her marbles.
“Not helpful,” she grumbled. She could sit here spinning her proverbial wheels some more or go out anddosomething.
One thing she’d decided on while hiding out last night was that if her houseguest was going to stay, he needed a crash course in modernity. Watching him stab last night’s alfredo with the fork like it’d personally offended him had been something else. He obviously needed a few lessons in modern comforts, as well as technology.
