Page 50 of Nyx
“Fine,” he says too quickly, and August chuckles from beside him.
“He’s eaten half your cucumbers off the vine and accidentally squashed a bunch of tomatoes when he tried to pick them.” A snorty laugh leaves me as Elas glares at his mate, but he can’t hold the serious face for long before he grins again.
“I can’t help that I have strong hands.”
“Strong hands made you eat the cucumbers?” I ask, and he turns that glare to me.
August chuckles and squeezes his mate’s hand. “He prefers them as pickles. I keep telling him the jars aren’t ready yet, but I’m not convinced he listens to me.”
“I feel like you’re all judging me,” Elas mutters, and August and I both laugh. Nyx shuffles beside me, and I immediately sense his discomfort. Despite his insistence he needs to spend more time with them, I already know itneeds to come in baby steps. I take the unintentional hint and excuse us.
“We’ll get together tomorrow and look everything over, but right now, dinner calls,” I say, and every eye follows us as we walk away. Nyx’s head hangs lower than when we arrived, and I’m ready to tuck him back into the safety of his cottage. He surprises me when he detours from the path and walks towards the clearing beyond the solar panels.
It’s far enough away to offer privacy, but within sight of the group. I follow faithfully as he selects a spot in the sunshine and don’t comment when he sits with his back facing the others. Occasionally my gaze will drift over to find one of them watching us, but Nyx seems content to eat in silence.
He enjoys his meal so much that he picks up the bowl and slurps the broth, making such a racket that I have to cough to cover the laugh that tries to escape. His eyes narrow again, but I compose myself enough to only smile at his suspicion. “Do you want more?” I ask when he sets his empty bowl in his lap and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
He considers it but shakes his head, and I tell him to stay put while I wash the dishes and return them. Curiosity follows my every move, but for the time being, I ignore it. There are more important things to do.
When I look back to check on him, Nyx has his face tilted towards the sun, so I jog over to the truck I drove back from the camp. Tucked underneath the passenger seat is a bag I stashed, and I sling it over my shoulder. Nyx’sears twitch as I approach, and he turns to watch me as I walk closer.
His eyes light up when he glances at the bag, and he bites at his lip as he stares. “Mine?” he asks, and I form another cheek-splitting smile at his curiosity.
“Yours. Are you ready to go home and look at it?” I laugh as he jumps up and beckons for me to hurry, and it takes all my self-control not to reach for his hand as we return to his cottage. At the door, he becomes apprehensive again. I read between the lines of what he isn’t saying.
“We don’t have to go inside just because I’ve already been there, Nyx. If you don’t want me in your home, that’s fine.” It actually isn’t fine, and dramatic as it might be, I’m pretty sure it would crack my chest in half if he didn’t let me in. But as with everything else, it’s his choice, and I’ll respect it. If I need to tend to my bruised ego in private later, I will, but for now, I’ll let him decide.
He stands there with his fingers on the knob, peering up at me through his lashes, then his gaze darts to the bag again. His curiosity is adorable… until he speaks.
“If we don’t go inside, do I still get my surprise?”
“Fuck, Nyx,” I gasp, clutching at my chest to keep myself from reaching for him. “Of course you do. Nothing I give you comes with strings.”
His head tilts and his brows pinch. “Strings?”
“It means this isn’t… transactional.” His brows furrow further, and I shake my head as I search for a better way to explain. “Anything I give you, or anything I do for you, it’s because I want to. No other reason. I don’t expect to get something in return.” His eyes follow mine as I step closer. “I already told you, precious… it’s your choice. If youneed me with you, I’ll be there. If you need privacy, that’s okay too.”
“Precious?”
A flush burns on my neck, but I force myself not to look away. “It means special… like… like treasure.”
“This hurts,” he whispers with a quiet whine, rubbing his chest. “Here.”
“I never want to hurt you.”
“Sometimes it’s good to hurt.” His hand moves towards my face, and I freeze, not daring to move as he twists one of my curls around the tip of his finger. “This pain is different. It reminds me I am alive.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, and his gaze shifts from my hair to my eyes again.
“I have not felt alive in so very long,” he whispers, and another crack splinters across my heart. The poor, abused organ is fractured, covered in fault lines from the suffering he so casually mentions.
Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?
“Come inside,” he says as his fingers close around the knob.
“You’re sure?”
“I am not sure of much. But you…” He trails off, his eyes shy as they meet mine again. “You make me feel like I could be, someday.”
