Page 54 of Nyx
Afterachillyshowerthat knocked me out of my head, I tucked myself in for a fitful night’s sleep. With no pillow, of course, since mine was with Nyx. There are more around here somewhere, but I’m not sure where I stuck them, so I just balled up an extra blanket and forced myself to rest. I was up before the sun rose to keep my promise to him.
I wait until an acceptable time to go to him, if barely. Armed with the last two muffins, I make a mental note to bake more soon. They only last a few days with the grabby hands and enormous appetites in the village, and I can’t exactly ask the others not to eat them since our food stores are communal.
A flash of yellow catches my eye, and I veer off the path to a cluster of Black-Eyed-Susans. I pull my knife from my pocket and cut one, then duck back to his door. Feet shuffle from inside as soon as I knock, like he waswaiting for me. I bite my smile between my teeth, but as he opens the door, my jaw drops.
Nyx is shy as he ducks his head, but glances up at me through the veil of his lashes with the most beautiful nervousness I’ve ever seen. “You look…” My brain short-circuits as my eyes move down his frame, and my mouth opens and closes, searching for words and failing to find any that are adequate.
He’s stunning. The cornflower blue shirt is gorgeous against the mossy green of his skin, and the fit is perfect. The pants are loose on his hips and a little too long. Tan fabric pools around his bare feet, but he looks complete. Rested and relaxed andvisible, like this whole time, he’s been hiding and has finally stepped into the light.
He’s his own person, not one playing dress-up in someone else’s life and closet.
“Does it look… okay?” he asks, his shaking hands tucking a rogue hair behind his ear.
“Okay? You look amazing,” I breathe, and his cheeks darken in a pleased blush as he absently pushes at another loose strand. “How do they feel?”
“Like they are mine.”
Gods, my heart won’t survive this. “Theyareyours.”
It’s cemented at that moment. Whatever he wants, it’s his.
The clothes off my back? Done.
Every single bite of my food? Take it, I’ll gladly starve.
The beating heart right out of my chest? Let me just carve that out and serve it on a platter.
My eyes dart over to the counter. The other items I collected for him are lined up in a neat row, and I imaginehis crinkled nose as he stood there, examining everything and trying to figure out what it is.
I zero in on one. “Can I do something for you?” I ask. He blinks up at me with a flicker of uncertainty, but nods before I can explain. The trust he places in me is a precious thing—a gift coming from such a battered soul.
He notices the flower and plate with our breakfast, and his eyes move back up to mine. “This is for you,” I say as I offer him the yellow flower. “Hold on to it, because I’m going to need it in a few minutes.” He accepts it with a quick sniff of the petals. “Do you want to eat while I work?”
“Yes,” he answers immediately, then tilts his head. “Work on what?”
I sit the plate with the two muffins on the counter, trading it for the small jar of oil and hairbrush. One benefit of living in a larger camp was the trader traffic. We rarely splurged on luxury items from the cities, but we had a lot to trade. We had access to things that smaller camps didn’t.
I turn back to Nyx, fidgeting with the lid to the oil as he stares at it. “Your hair,” I say, making sure he understands there’s no judgement in my tone. I don’t want to make him feel bad about it when he’s already so self-conscious. “It got really tangled. I know you’ve cleaned it, but it’s hard to get all those knots out, especially when it’s so long.”
He gulps, fighting his urge to look away even as his eyes appear to get rounder. “You will fix it?”
“If you’re okay with that.” He swallows again, the prominent Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing with themotion. His lip quivers, and gods help me, he looksconfused. This simple kindness is more than he knows how to accept, and I struggle to keep my anger at bay.
“Why?” he finally whispers.
“Because I want to take care of you, Nyx. Will you let me…” I trail off, chewing on the inside of my cheek as a grin pulls onto my lips. “How do you say ‘precious’ in your language?”
“Oh,” he breathes with a little squeak, and fuck, if he doesn’t blush even deeper. “Sirrha. It… it means… a treasured thing. This is… what you want?”
“It is,” I say, and I repeat the word, rolling therlike he does. He’s so sweetly excited as he nods.
“Will you let me brush your hair, sirrha?”
“Yes,” he whispers, a touch shakily. His eyes shimmer as he tries to grab at the extra material of his shirt, seeming to forget he’s wearing one that fits. He pushes out a breath and smooths his palms over his thighs. “Where…?” He glances around, but before he can get self-conscious about his lack of furniture, I nod towards the bed.
“You sit on the floor, if that’s okay? Actually, wait…” I grab the blanket, folding it into a neat rectangle before placing it on the ground. “There. Now you’ll be more comfortable.”
An amused grin tugs at his lips. “The floor would be fine. I am used to it.”
