Page 21 of Little Wing (Shades of Fairhaven #1)

S haring even a small fragment of who I was and where I came from felt like a breath of fresh air.

Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I ever told anyone about my life.

I couldn’t deny the relief that I felt when I shared such a delicate piece of my story with Silas and all he did was listen.

If he did speak, it was to offer comfort and understanding.

Though it was not the full truth, it was something. I suppose revealing my story in its entirety would perhaps drag me straight to hell. But these bits and pieces just made me feel like I wasn’t concealing everything. I shared what I could and it felt amazing to be heard.

Now, if I shared it all, I anticipated a reaction similar to what I heard outside of Fairhaven: the threats of violence that I heard for years, all because of who my maker was.

I wanted to be free of that for as long as possible—forever, ideally.

The truth of my identity, my brother, and his shame would have to remain tucked away.

Truthfully, if I had it my way, I would snip that part of my life out and never speak of it. I’d never let that story resurface, not after all the damage that my brother left in his wake.

But beside the stress that lingered, I chose to focus on the confident edge that meeting and speaking with Silas was giving me.

I felt more engaged with my friends. I almost didn’t mind all the book events we were hosting.

Also talking about our future bookstore didn’t feel like something so far out of reach.

And at the Nomad? I finally asked Kait directly for a glass of O negative, and even crimson!

Whatever this thing between me and Silas was—I couldn’t ignore that he reminded me what it was to be alive.

I scanned the long list of Shakespearean works on the tablet I held securely in my arm.

While I leaned against the door frame to the small room that was filled from floor to ceiling with just about every play you could imagine by the playwright, I checked them off my inventory list. From antique prints to educational texts, we seemed to carry it all.

At least that’s what my spreadsheet indicated as it stretched over a dozen pages.

Humming quietly to myself while I checked off each title after locating it on the shelf, I found my mind drifting away from the task at hand and into daydreams. I inserted myself into the beautiful plays with Silas as my co-star where tragedy still held hints of a blossoming romance.

Just as my mind wandered to what it would feel like to have Silas’s hands explore my body, Reina’s cheery voice burst the bubble of my fantasy.

“You’re like, really chipper,” Reina snorted as she stepped out of the break room, brushing a crumb off her floral collared blouse. “Did you finally get laid?”

Despite my daydreams being littered with thoughts of Silas shirtless and sweaty in my bedroom—I wasn’t about to sleep with him just because he didn’t push me away after hearing a sprinkle of my trauma .

“No-no,” I offered her a lopsided smile. “Although I admit I’m not as upset that you gave Silas my number.”

“Okay, imposter? Where is Lotus Evans?” Reina gasped. “Oh my gods, is that a fucking smile?” She quickly looked around the store and once she realized it was just us, she yanked me by the wrist into the Shakespeare room. “Spill. Please.”

So, I did. I tried to omit the gory details of my turning, but I relayed the short, yet eventful timeline of my time with Silas.

I recalled how our paths continued to cross after we first met.

How I believed he only showed up wherever I was to corner me when all he wanted was to figure me out.

I told her how I never lied about what I was to him or frankly, anyone else.

Before I could say anything else, Reina’s lips pursed into a pout as she raised her shoulders to slip out a high-pitched: “Welllllll….”

“I never lied to you,” I assured her.

“But you weren’t very forward about it either. I guess I wondered why you only asked for night shifts.”

“I could have been a single mom working two jobs,” I nudged her, but winced once she countered with a response without even missing a beat.

“Yeah, and you also kept blood in a thermos,” she managed to get out somehow without keeling over in explosive laughter that I knew was laced with a good bit of her own trauma.

“Do you not remember when I accidentally grabbed it for a sip of coffee and I fucking spilled that shit all over myself? It was a like a reenactment of Carrie… by my own doing.”

My free hand squeezed the bridge of my nose at the memory. It was… horrific. “I am still so sorry about that. I told you I would buy you a new shirt.”

“Yeah, yeah—but the point is, while you did not lie, you don’t exactly present yourself as other vampires do.

Not offense, Lo, but you’re my little vampy weirdo and I love you.

I’m just not surprised that Silas looked to you as some sort of puzzle he needed to solve… preferably with a good dicking.”

Reina sighed and motioned for us to step out of the room.

She did her routine scan of the store for any new customers before walking over to the nearest shelf to tuck in a book that was hanging out halfway.

“Look, I kid with the whole screwing thing, but I don’t know…

I like this version of you that has Silas to speak to.

As much as Kait and I love you as you are, we don’t exactly understand the shit that you probably had to go through.

I mean, Lotus—I can’t even imagine a world where I can’t pull up a picture of a sexy fireman at a moment’s notice.

What did you have to do back then with no internet? Touch yourself to cave paintings?”

“Remind me how it is that you are my manager?” I snorted.

“Because the owner is too intimidated by my raw sexual feminine power.” Reina shrugged and immediately turned on her customer service voice when the bell on the door jingled. “Hiii! Welcome to The Black Cat Scribes! Whatcha looking for today, friend?”

Everything Reina said, while her tone was silly, it certainly held truth.

After sharing even a fragment of who I truly was, I couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to live authentically.

I wanted those closest to me to know as much about me as I could reveal, because in all my time living in Fairhaven, my friends never questioned why I refused to flaunt my vampirism. They weren’t afraid to be around me.

And then there was Silas.

The memory of the way he looked at me after sharing my story with him replayed in my mind.

I could remember the way his hands felt as they found some reason to touch me.

Whether it was a soft caress over my hand or a soft squeeze of my knee, I felt comfortable with him enough to let down my guard and admit to myself how much I hoped that he would kiss me again.

Desire pooled between my legs at the thought of him touching me, yet all I could do was cross my legs as I forced myself back to cataloging the literary works.

I checked them off one by one, but the fantasies that played out in my head were too clear, too real.

I could imagine what Silas would feel like, sound like, and even taste like.

If I'd had any warm blood flowing in my veins, a blush would have been impossible to conceal.

As the late evening hours arrived, the store saw a few more customers step in to browse our selection.

Our book events continued to bring in a steady flow of people, but it was not yet enough to warrant keeping the store open the full twenty-four hours.

With us closing soon, I let Reina slip out early to meet up with whomever she ended up swiping right on.

I would, no doubt, hear about it tomorrow.

Honestly, I loved being the only one in the store during the late hours.

The space was quiet and warm, and I never felt truly alone when in the presence of so many fascinating texts.

I could no longer view the sunrises as I once did, but at least I could read about them in books that painted them like a memory that would only refresh with each reading.

After helping the last customer check out with their new purchase, I followed them to the door so that I could finally lock up. But as I reached to tuck in the lock at the top of the door, I heard the familiar hum strengthen as a welcome presence came into view.

“Closing shop?” Silas asked, stepping closer to rest his arm against the door I was holding open. “Or can you make an exception for one more customer?”