Page 28 of Horned to be Wild
He would let her go, let her spread her wings and fly to the city that was calling her. He would let her find her way in the world she was destined for.
A world where he didn’t belong.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lila woke just before daybreak, restless and achy. She’d spent another night dreaming of Torin, of the way his big, gentle hands stroked her skin and the taste of his mouth on hers. But with any luck this was the last morning she’d wake up frustrated and alone. A smile played on her lips as she remembered the heated kisses in his truck, the promise of more in his rough, desire-laden voice.
He still might not be ready, she reminded herself. But every part of her hummed with anticipation as she showered and dressed. She chose a sheer black bra and a matching thong, even though it was the most uncomfortable set she owned.Hopefully I won’t be wearing it long. She covered them with a simple cotton dress that drifted flatteringly around her curves.
Then she started on breakfast and the scent of fresh pancakes and bacon soon filled the air. After placing everything in the oven to keep warm, she wandered aimlessly around her house. She tried picking up her sketchbook but she couldn’t concentrate. It was mid-morning before she finally accepted thathe wasn’t coming. Had he misunderstood? Did he think she was coming to him instead? Or had his fears been too much for him?
After a long debate with herself, she headed down the now-familiar path to his cabin, rehearsing casual phrases that wouldn’t betray her concerns.
But as soon as she arrived, she knew something was wrong. The workshop windows were shuttered, the door firmly closed. No smoke curled from the chimney. The clearing was utterly silent.
“Torin?” She knocked on the heavy door of the cabin, waiting for his familiar shuffling footsteps, the slight hesitation before he’d open it.
Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time. “Torin, are you there?”
Silence answered her, thick and disquieting.
A cold weight settled in her stomach. Surely after yesterday—the project, their shared triumph, those heated kisses—surely he wouldn’t just…disappear?
She pressed her forehead against the rough wood of his door, confusion giving way to a sharp sting of hurt. After everything they’d shared, after how close they’d grown, how could he withdraw now?
“Fine,” she muttered, stepping back. “If that’s how you want it.”
But the hurt followed her all the way back to her cottage, a persistent ache that wouldn’t subside.
She tried once again to work on her sketches, but when she opened the book, the sight of the murals only deepened her ache. He’d poured his soul into that work, and it showed. She traced afingertip along the intricately carved vines of the Little Prince’s planet.
“What went wrong?” she whispered to the empty room.
By mid-afternoon, she’d had enough of her own company. She grabbed her purse and headed into town, telling herself she needed groceries and art supplies. Not that she was hoping to run into a certain tall, horned figure on the street.
Harmony Glen’s streets were bustling with the usual mix of humans and monsters. She scanned the bakery, the hardware store, the coffee shop—any place he might have business, even though she knew he rarely spent any time in town.
A group of children waved excitedly from across the street.
“Miss Lila! We love the magic doors!” one shouted, while another mimed opening a doorway with exaggerated gestures, making the others laugh.
She waved back, her smile genuine despite her mood. At least the project had been a success. The children’s joy was real, even if Torin’s feelings for her weren’t.
Her wandering eventually led her to Bloom & Vine, but she hesitated outside the door. It wasn’t fair to burden a new friend with her troubles. She decided to go home and wait for Etta to be free instead, but just as she turned away the door opened and Marigold appeared.
“I thought it was you out here…” Marigold’s welcoming smile faded. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
To her horror, she burst into tears.
Marigold gently drew her into the shop, locking the door behind them and turning the sign on the door toClosed.
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested weakly, but her friend ignored her, leading her back through the shop to a small sitting area.
“Have a seat while I make us some tea. Maybe with a shot of brandy in it.” Marigold patted her hand. “Or maybe we’ll skip the tea and go straight to the brandy.”
But she came back with two steaming mugs and a plate of shortbread cookies.
