Page 12 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

She grabbed a handful of metal squares from her cleavage and tossed them onto the counter.

“Keep the change,” she bit as she pulled on my arm to yank me from my seat.

I nearly fell on my face behind her, catching myself on her stool.

Without a moment’s delay, she dragged me out the chirping door into the cool night air.

“Myke-eeeee,” I grumbled. “Why’re we leaving? I’wus having fun.” My head swayed around my shoulders. I couldn’t seem to catch my balance, and it was hard to discern if that was from the alcohol or her rage march.

“It’s getting late, Graysen is going to worry.” She strutted down the streets in her heels as if completely sober while I fumbled behind her, attempting to hold down the rising burn in my esophagus.

“How long-re-wee in there?” I asked, looking up at the galaxy of stars above us, their intense vibrations increasing my nausea. The sky had faded from periwinkle to the indigo. Night.

“Hours.” Perhaps there was a twinge of guilt in her tone. At the time, I interpreted it as a general displeasure—maybe directed at me?

It felt like only ten minutes had passed at most since things had picked up.

After downing my drink, I met some nice people, and then we left.

Surely, she was exaggerating. That or maybe our unit of “ hours ” was different?

I desperately wanted to sit down and rest, but I could see the windows of Graysen’s brick house glowing in the distance and was eager to be near the comfort of his fireplace.

We got to the front door, and Mykie paused. Her eyes scanned me, and the corners of her lips pulled in a subtle frown. She took in a deep breath, exhaled, and rapped two knuckles on the door.

“Gray! We’re home!” Her voice concealed the apprehensive cringe of her expression.

The door shot inward, and Graysen loomed over us.

He crossed his arms across his puffed-out chest, obsidian claws pressing into his elbows.

My eyes raked over the strangely entrancing forearms, which faded from the inky black of his wrists to the flesh tone of his elbows.

His eyes, devoid of irises or whites, seemed to glow molten bronze.

The emblem on his neck was blindingly bright.

He looked more demon than human. He was beautifully sinister. And he was pissed.

“ I can’t fucking believe you, Mykie !” That beastly voice roared from his throat. “ I just got home and was about to tear this town apart looking for her! ” Yellow light slipped between the fingers of his sable clenched fists as he released his grip from his arms.

“What?” She raised a brow in challenge. “I left a note on the table.”

“ I leave her alone with you for seven hours and you go out and— ” He looked at me and gritted his teeth. “ And get her as wasted as you! Do you know the state I found her in two days ago?!”

“She only had one drink, Gray,” Mykie pouted, her ears lying flat against her head.

Graysen leaned out the door and pressed his face into my neck, inhaling deeply. My cheeks flushing, I pressed my thighs together at the scruff of his jaw tickling my throat. I didn’t know why he was sniffing me, but I didn’t mind given how tingly the proximity made me feel.

“ Sure, one Drooler,” he sneered. “What were you thinking?! Do I have to go to that fucking pub now and end every person present because you had to be an irresponsible drunk?! ”

“Are-ew mad at me, Gray-sen?” My eyelids felt heavy from the pleasure of having him so close.

I wanted to collapse forward into the heat of his chest. I wanted to straddle one of the thick thighs extended mere inches away from me.

Holding myself up was becoming a challenge, and he was such an inviting seat.

Graysen’s dilated bronze pupils pierced into me suddenly, and a forked tongue dabbed at his lower lip. His eyes clenched shut. “ No, my dear, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for trusting my alcoholic of a friend to take care of you in such a vulnerable situation .”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Mykie hissed, her ears shifting parallel to the ground and her teeth bared.

“ Oh come on, Mykie. I’ve been your bartender before. You can’t lie to me about your vices ,” he laughed humorlessly. “ Go upstairs and sleep in my bed for the night until you’ve sobered up . I won’t be needing it. ” One of his claws was suddenly up in the air, pointing the way up the stairs.

“I’m going home to sleep in my own damn bed because I’m fine .”

The air around Graysen’s body seemed to radiate with heat. Despite the visible fury, he hung his head and took several deep breaths, the hand bracing against the doorframe snapping.

“You’re an angry drunk.” The monster in his throat had disappeared, his tone was back to sounding wonderfully deep and lulling. “Please, just go upstairs already. I don’t want to have this argument. Just rest up.”

Mykie’s expression softened. “Sorry, Gray.” She turned to look at me. “Had fun tonight, babe. Sweet dreams.”

As Mykie squeezed past him to enter the home, Graysen’s hand, now normal, fleshy and pink, grabbed her shoulder. “Tell me the truth. Do I need to go handle anything at the pub? Because I will,” Graysen muttered under his breath.

“No. Nothing needs to be handled ,” she said soberly before pulling from his grip and trudging up the stairs.

Graysen rubbed both of his temples. All I could think about was how alluring he was.

His company was calming me, and I wanted nothing more than to lean into that tranquility.

Not to mention how much I was looking forward to curling up on the well-worn couch by the fire and allowing my sleepy eyes to close for the night.

I was confident this would be the best rest I could remember having—not that I had much to compare it to.

“Let me make you a special recipe of mine that will save you some pain in the morning.” He softly lifted my palm and guided me through the threshold, closing the door behind us.

“People’eer are so nice,” I slurred as he hooked an arm around my waist and helped me walk forward. “An’ funny!” I let my legs mostly give out under me as I realized the majority of my weight was already being supported by Graysen.

“We have our good people and our bad people, same as any other place.” He turned my back to the couch eased me down into a seated position. He seemed to hold his breath as he walked away to the kitchen.

The drunken green and purple filter on the world made his living space look like a beautiful, abstract painting.

Perhaps a Picasso, the way the spinning room distorted shapes and textures.

The walls seemed to dance playfully as the fireplace light cascaded across the rough grooves of brick.

I could see ghouls and goblins playing in lime shadows and fairies fluttering in the violet gleam of the flames.

They sang familiar melodies in my head, and I smiled peacefully. How enchanting.

“Here you go.” He handed me a glass cup with a thick, silver liquid in it. “I made it sweet, so it’ll go down easier.”

“Are-ew gonna get Myke-ee one?” The vague taste of coconut met my tongue. As it went down, it cooled the uncomfortable burning sensation that had lingered since my first sip of the night.

“No, I like to imagine that if she wakes up with enough headaches, she’ll eventually stop drinking herself to death.”

“Iyad such a good time today, Gray-sen.” I pulled my knees to my chest and cupped the mug close. The stress of my situation felt lighter, simpler, in my swimming head. My desperation to get back to Earth was mollified by a burgeoning sense of curiosity and belonging.

“I’m glad.” He didn’t sound glad at all.

“I metta man with four arms, and some Mer-cur-ee-ans, and a Thorrrrnian, and I saw-a Lychan.” I felt a dribble of my drink spill onto my chin, and my tongue poked out clumsily to lick it up.

“Did Mykie tell you what people with four arms are called?” He bent over the fireplace and it roared to life.

I couldn’t help but think it ignited with more violence than it had previously.

So blinding, that for a brief moment, yellows and oranges broke through the cool purples and greens of my Drooler sight.

“ Mmhmm , a Quad-mos,” I hummed. “Can-ew explain something t’me, Graysen?” I leaned my side onto the pile of pillows I would soon nestle into.

“What, my dear?” His head turned over his shoulder, his eyes were cooler before. Although the iris was far from its typical gray, his pupils were a normal black and had shrunken from consuming the surrounding whites.

“Whatoo they say about wakin’ up next to a Quadmos?” I rolled my head onto my shoulder and looked at him lazily. Each blink of my eyes lasted longer than the last, and with each one, I wasn’t sure my lids would open again until morning.

He blinked heavily several times. “They don’t say anything.”

“I like it-eer Gray-sen.” I sighed with a smile. I was going to let the darkness win, content to fall asleep with a happy little expression on my face.

“You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

“Canwe go back to-da pub tomorrow?”

He was silent a long moment before bluntly stating, “We’ll see.”

“I like Mykie alotte,” I yawned, feeling him take the drink from my loosening grip.

“I do too, my dear.” He pulled the blanket over me and returned to his seat right before I drifted off. “I do too.”