Page 7 of November Reign
“And I’m sorry about how I spoke to you and Barr earlier. I… there’s no excuse.”
“It’s alright,” Thyme said in a soft voice. “We’re all under a lot of stress.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have put it all on you. I’m just so damn tired all the time.” If I could just get some decent sleep without memories or dreams plaguing me, I’d be able to handle things better.
In the low lights of the kitchen, Thyme’s hair was a burnished copper. It was wild, with curls springing into his face. The glow of the cabinets made his paper-white face paler, highlighting the bronze of hisfreckles over his face. His blue eyes were wide and hopeful as he looked at me. Unlike Damon, his nose was straight and slightly upturned at the tip. His lips were distracting, the top fuller than the bottom, with a perfect cupid’s bow. He was so damn pretty, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin.
Thyme had the look of some wild fae prince sent to earth to learn about us. He was so perfect it hurt.
“Can I help?”
My mind supplied all the ways he could help me get a good night’s sleep. It wouldn’t start with actually sleeping, though. I made a noise of agreement, both wanting to end the interaction and also keep him beside me so I could soak up his presence. We were so rarely left alone like this.
A smile broke on his face, giving my heart a jolt. He went to a cabinet and pulled out a pot.
“Sounds ridiculous, but my mom had this recipe she used for warm milk that always helped me sleep.” His cheeks pinked with a faint blush. “I thought it might help you like it did for me.”
“Okay.”
He moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. I knew he took on a lot of the cooking duties because he’d been forced to learn as a child. His father was pretty traditional in the gender roles in the household and while Thyme was being groomed to be the covenleader, he was also being trained to be a wife. His transition had put an end to both plans.
The spell to give him the body which matched who he truly was took a lot of magic, ending his father’s ambition to have Thyme installed as the next Head Witch of the Northarbor coven. Thyme had found friends to help him, cutting the drain. Damon’s mother, Fern, had vowed to help Thyme transition. The help had saved a lot of his magic. Not enough to be in the running for Head Witch, but enough that he’d been easily accepted back into the coven as his authentic self, despite what his father said.
“You know, you don’t have to do all the cooking.”
“I like to cook.”
If it was something he enjoyed, I wasn’t going to argue. He was pretty good at it, too. So many nights I had to stop myself asking for seconds, wanting to make sure he had plenty to eat first. Thyme was bad at putting his needs ahead of everyone else.
I waited patiently at the table as he heated the milk and added a bunch of things to it. There was lavender, honey, chamomile, and a few other things he didn’t show me. Must have been a secret his mom had passed onto him.
Eventually, the milk was done. He set a mug down in front of me and cradled his own in his hands. He sat with his legs folded up under him.
“Want to tell me what’s bothering you? That might help.” He took a sip and waited.
Trying to think of something to say, I also tried the milk. I gave a groan of pleasure as the flavors burst over my tongue.
“This is really good!”
“I’d be offended you’re so surprised, but it is just that good,” he teased. “Come on, what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”
Rather than tell him the truth, that he was on my mind all the time, I went for the safe bet: Damon. If I knew one thing, it was that Thyme was obsessed with his little brother.
“I think we need to start from scratch with Damon’s magical training.”
“Why?” I could see him getting defensive.
“Okay, hear me out. He has no foundation. Damon wasn’t raised with magic. The opposite, really.”
“Yeah.” He sounded all sad. My instinct was to comfort him.
“He’s a fast learner, though. So talented.”
Thyme brightened. “Isn’t he?”
“So, I thought we should go back to basics, give him the easy shit so he can be better at the harder shit.”
“You have such a way with words,” Thyme said playfully.
