Page 107 of Nyx
Sprocket eyes the solar panels, her fingers pinching her chin. “Do those work?” she asks, and her voice is deeper than I expected with her small size.
“One of them,” Cameron says as he steps forward and offers his hand. “I’m Cameron, Ronan’s mate. I did what I could, but the others are beyond my capabilities.”
“Maybe I can give you a hand with that,” Sprocket says, and Cameron smiles.
“I think we’d all appreciate that.”
Elas helps Matuk lower onto one of the flat rocks that form the circle where we eat. Samuel follows, holding Daiwyn’s hand, and guides her to sit as well. Everyone else finds a spot to settle as August pours cups of water and passes them out.
Taryn returns with a few loaves of bread and a jar of strawberry jam, along with a basket full of eggs and a few fresh peppers and onions. Lillith starts a fire to heatthe large skillet above the flame, and Taryn slices and distributes bread while we wait for the meal to cook. Everyone takes their food with sincere thanks, and when Taryn reaches Daiwyn, the Anunian woman bursts into tears.
Samuel tucks her into his side, and Taryn crouches in front of her. “It’s alright,” Taryn murmurs. “We understand what you’re going through right now. You’re safe here.”
“Safe?” Daiwyn whispers, and Taryn nods with a broken smile.
“In time, you’ll accept it. Until you do, just know you’re among friends.” She leaves the mates together to eat, and Samuel flashes her a heartbreakingly tender smile in thanks.
Once the skillet is hot, Taryn tosses in the vegetables, then follows with the whipped eggs once they’re ready. The sun has set and darkness has settled by the time the meal is finished, and the firelight dances over the exhausted faces of this new alliance.
Ronan eyes the vehicles and tries to stand, but Elas grabs his shoulder and shoves him back to sitting. “You’ve done enough, old friend. Let us handle it, yeah?” Ronan grumbles, but nods as Elas and August collect the cots and set them up inside one of the vacant homes. Nyx’s weight is heavy against my arm, and I know he’s exhausted. We excuse ourselves to his cottage, where we shower and stumble to the bedroom. I don’t think anything has ever been so comfortable and welcoming as this bed and these blankets as we curl up together, and in minutes, we’re both sound asleep.
The soft patter of feet pulls me from my slumber, and after I fill my chest with a deep inhale, I reach beside me to find cold sheets. “Nyx?” I mumble, and he walks into the room as I roll to face the door.
“You were not supposed to be awake yet,” he complains, and I huff a laugh as I sit up and rub my eyes. When they’re cleared, I find him standing there wearing my shirt that he fell asleep in last night. His hair is loose and mussed from sleep, but he’s nervous. There’s a tray in his hands, and he shuffles between his bare feet.
“What’s all this?”
“A surprise. You always take care of me, and I want to take care of you, too.” I open my mouth to argue that he already does, that spoiling him is my greatest joy, but he put in a lot of work, and I won’t take that away from him.
“What’d you bring me?” I ask instead, and his eyes light up as they lift to mine.
“Breakfast.” I glance at the tray and my grin nearly splits my face in half. Strawberries and apples are haphazardly chopped into varying sizes, and beside them is a thick piece of bread, but instead of a clean slice, it looks like someone could’ve used their hands to pull it apart.
Next to the plate is a cluster of dandelions—soil-covered roots and all—and a shiny white rock that probably came from our spot in the creek.
It’s fucking perfect.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask as he sets the tray beside me. Without it to hold, he wrings his hands as he circles to his side of the bed and climbs on carefully so he doesn’t jostle his work. I take a bite of a strawberry and then offer one to him. He opens his mouth for me to feed it to him, and as he chews, his fingers move to his shirt hem and rub the fabric.
“Nyx? You only do that when you’re nervous. What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer at first, only stares at the blankets underneath us. Finally, he says, “The new people.”
I sit up straighter, my breakfast forgotten as I focus on him. “What about them?”
Nyx’s eyes meet mine and go wide at my defensiveness. “No, no, nothing bad. Eat.”
“This feels like a bribe,” I mutter.
“What is this bribe?”
I chew on one of the smaller apple chunks, but he shakes his head when I offer a piece to him. “A bribe is when you give someone gifts because you want something from them and are trying to put them in a good mood.”
“Oh,” he says, then considers it and nods. “Yes. This is a bribe.” I chuckle as I take a big bite of my chunky bread, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. “They will need space, and I thought…”
“You thought?” I hedge when he doesn’t continue.
“Maybe some of them could have… y-your house?”
