Page 66 of Nyx
My arms open in an invitation, and he rushes forward and buries himself in my hug. I press my lips against the crown of his head, and the awkwardness disappears as I hold him there. “Gods, I want to give you everything. You know that, don’t you? How honored I am that you trust me with this? Anything you want to try, we’ll try, but we don’t have to rush, and you can always change your mind. You owe me nothing, okay? Even if you think I want something.”
“What if I am the one who wants it?” he whispers, and I hug him tighter as I force myself to swallow.
“Then you’ll have it. Whatever it is.”
He nods, his hair sticking in my beard with the motion. We stand there for a few quiet moments before he says, “There is one thing I… that I want to…” He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Can you help me with something?”
“Anything.”
He hesitates, and I run my hand along his long, lopsided braid, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. “My cottage?”
“What sort of help do you need, love?”
“I want… to make it… better. More. Bring things in and make it… not… I want a h-home.”
Ahome.
Not a prison, or a cell.
Not a punishment, but a place of peace.
I’m so proud of him I’m afraid I might burst right out of my skin.
“Yeah,” I rasp, closing my eyes as he breathes a shaky, relieved sigh. “Yeah, of course I can do that for you.”
Nyx
ReyesandElascarrya dresser through the door of my cottage, although I’m not confident Elas needs the help. I’m pretty sure he’s just being kind, while I’mpositiveReyes is being stubborn. The thought makes me smile.
We carried everything outside—removed the sparse furniture that reminded me of my prison. We did that part on our own. There were so few things that it only took us twenty minutes to strip this place bare. But once the house was empty, Reyes grimaced and apologized. He told me he needed to ask someone to help, as though I expected him to do the work on his own.
I planned to help.
Really, I did, but as it turns out… I’m not very good at moving things. My arms are weak from never using those muscles, and I have this annoying tendency to trip on my feet when I wear shoes. The second time I stubbed my toe and thought I might die of embarrassment, Reyes lifted me onto the counter and kissed me until I was happy again.
Now I sit and snack on a bowl of strawberries while the two of them sweat and bicker. Earlier, Elas referred to me as atrophy mateand said I was perched on my pedestal. He assured me it was a good thing, though, and teasingly told Reyes he could use more trophies. Reyes rolled his eyes, but fed me a strawberry and gave me a kiss, so I didn’t press the matter.
They place the dresser next to the new, bigger bed that sits in the corner of the bedroom. Before today, I had only stepped foot inside that room once, and determined I didn’t need it before closing the door for good.
I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with this extra space. What do people use all these rooms for, anyway?
There’s an entire room for the bed, while the main area now houses two mismatched chairs. They are from the collection of spare things in the storage building, so no one was using them. They make the space feel cozy. One is taller, with faded navy blue fabric that I spent the morning scrubbing clean. I can imagine Reyes sitting there with me at his feet, braiding my hair by the daylight coming through the window. The other chair is shorter with more stuffing, covered in a striped maroon and gold upholstery Elas calledtacky.
I like tacky.
It’s interesting.
There’s also a new table in the corner, with a couple of wooden spindly chairs pushed underneath it. A smile tugs at my lips as I picture us eating breakfast there.
But my favorite piece is in the kitchen. Reyes built a small freestanding shelf and filled it with potted flowersand the tiny greenHerbsfrom the garden. He says they’ll taste good in the food we will cook together here.
My heart hurts so much I can hardly stand it, because it doesn’t know how to love like this.
Doesn’t know, but wants to try.
Reyes walks over with a smile, and I hold out a strawberry for him. He obliges me, taking a giant bite out of the end and chewing as I nibble the rest of the fruit from around the stem. He grabs my cheeks and pulls me in for a kiss before I can even wipe the juices away, and I huff an amused breath against his mouth.
“So sweet,” he murmurs, then kisses me again. “I love it when you do that.”
