Page 13

Chapter

Thirteen

“ S o, this is your study,” Abby commented, her eyes wide as they moved over the room that Samir typically kept closed out of habit.

“It is,” Samir agreed as he followed her inside, warmth spreading through his chest at the way she looked around with rapt fascination.

It flattered him that she appeared to like it. He knew it did not fit the aesthetic of human comfort. There was not much wood in the place to give an illusion of warmth and ease, but every bench and table had been harvested from the natural stone of the cavern, and stuffed cushions made from lush fabrics and animal skins gave the chairs some modicum of comfort. The only real wood in his home was for the doors, and that he had acquired by apologetically tearing apart a wagon or two from caravans passing through.

Though perhaps he should be grateful that he had not felt compelled to do more. Wood was not always as forgiving as stone. Where stone could crack and fracture with the wrong force, it seemed that wood enjoyed splintering for absolutely no reason or develop cracks with the slightest change to the humidity, or lack thereof. Truthfully, the doors had been a special challenge that had dissuaded him from making anything else from wood and had required regular attention. He might have continued to forego them entirely, but that changed when the human, Jeriah, came to dwell with him.

Even though he had to carve the cavern walls themselves in order to fashion properly fitting doors, he had them fashioned and put in place within a short time after finding the male wandering back to the deeper passages of his home uninvited after numerous polite requests and warnings. Even when he had fancied himself in love with the male and was eager to share his life with him, he had been unable to fully trust Jeriah, though he had not understood why at the time. After observing the male for a time, he had somehow arrived at the conclusion that it was just a human’s natural tendency to explore open spaces.

He had believed the doors would solve that issue.

The rooms of his study, his treasury, and his room of fire where he was able to bask in the hot flames drawn up from within earth, had all come under lock and key within weeks. In retrospect, the male’s consternation about being blocked access to them should have provided him with some warning toward the human’s ulterior motives. How many times had he complained about being locked out when something required Samir’s attention? How many times did he put on a great show of wishing to gain access so that he could be of better service and help? It was so obvious, but he had been foolishly blind to it then.

Because of this, he had carefully watched Abby to see how far she was willing to go to pry into his secrets. He had watched with suspicion when she attempted to open the doors, and had witnessed how, upon discovering that they were locked, she had disregarded them. There were occasions afterwards that she had glanced toward the passage curiously, but she never again went near them, nor had she once mentioned them. She was content to let his secrets remain his own.

It was for that reason, paired with the warm glow that still filled him from their night basking among the flowers beneath the stars, that he had decided to show her what rested behind this door. He wanted to share more of himself with her and foolishly wanted to bring her more into his life. He wanted more after a mere couple of weeks than he had wanted even after a century with Jeriah. There were times where, before the betrayal, he had wondered if things would have grown further between him and Jeriah if he had opened himself more to him, but he had not been able to make himself that vulnerable to the human. But now that he was doing so with Abby, he recognized the difference. Abby never pushed him to share his secrets—he wanted to share them.

He had come to trust her.

“Do you like it?” he murmured after several minutes of silence.

She looked up from a bookcase beside his desk and grinned. “It is incredible. I confess I’m surprised to see yet more books, but these appear more worn than any of the others in your possession.”

“That bookcase does not contain leisure reading nor that of academic curiosities. It is filled with my personal diaries and ledgers since I reached adulthood and settled in this cavern. The blue one there,” he said, nodding to the volume her hand rested on, “records the year the convergence… the collision as humans like to call it.”

“Wow,” she quietly exclaimed and turned hopeful eyes to him. “Do you think I might be able to read it? All of them actually?”

“Once you have become accomplished enough in your lessons, perhaps,” he agreed, secretly delighted that she wanted to.

“Oh… right. Not in common northern,” she said and grimaced.

Samir chuckled and followed her around the room as she explored, his stinger curling and extending with his pleasure so that the tip lightly tapped the floor. The sound startled her initially, and she had glanced at his tail several times before she was able filter out the sound and ignored it.

Of course, such things were easy enough to ignore when surrounded by a trove of Samir’s most beloved items. She ran her fingers over the larger harp that sat in one corner, the body carved in the representation of a bull, and she paused and bent to examine several little inventions and toys he had made that sat on the shelves lining one wall. He was especially proud of those. He had painstakingly folded the metal and learned the art of cog-making to enliven his little creations. Even without cubs of his own, they were amusing and a constant challenge to perfect his craft and do more. There were also shelves filled with jars of rare herbs and minerals that he utilized for various bits of magic, but also in making medicines as required. Medicine not only for himself but to treat those individuals he came across that were near unjustly at death’s door. Abby marveled at them all until at last she arrived at the great wall that carried the trophies of his many triumphs.

Every weapon with which hunters had attacked him with was mounted on the wall. Plainly forged sabers, jeweled swords and daggers were mounted side by side with equal ceremony as blades and bludgeoning weapons of all kinds were neatly lined as a testimony to all those battles that he had overcome. At their center, however, Abby’s lance hung in the place of honor, the broken wooden shaft fitted with a newly forged metal one. His triumph over her deserved the acclaim, and he knew that she recognized the significance of it because a small flush rose in her cheeks as she caught sight of her weapon. She moved closer to the wall, drawn to the display as he would have suspected. She was a warrior and hunter. It was natural.

“Trophies of my victories,” he explained as he moved closer. “Each belonged to one who thought to take my life. Some humans, some of other races. A reminder of my victories.”

“I did not think that there would be so many,” she replied in a hushed voice. “There are a lot more weapons here than skulls in your parlor.”

He chuckled in agreement. “I only keep the skulls of those who especially pissed me off.”

His words startled a laugh from her. “I see my lance is in the center. I’m honored.”

Warmth spread across his chest, and he smiled. “There has been no human like you. No one else deserves that honor.”

Her head cocked to the side as she considered her weapon. “What would you do if there were two weapons?”

He frowned at the question. “I do not under?—”

His words died in his mouth as Abby whirled around, slashing at him with a blade in her hand. Cursing himself for a fool yet again, Samir rolled, narrowly avoiding the blade for a second time. His heart crumpled, not only was she attacking him, but he recognized the ornate hilt and the flash of gemstones encrusting it as one of his treasured belongings.

Dodging, Samir thrust his arm out, slamming his palm between her breasts so that she was sent flying off her feet. She landed hard, her breath rushing out of her. She had somehow retained hold on the dagger, however. Sorrow filled him as he rushed her in a fast side-step and brought his stinger up, prepared to deliver the fatal blow. Killing her would destroy him. He might as well curl up in his flames and die as well but it had to be done. He swung his tail back in preparation to strike but for some reason his gaze shifted to her face. Her laughing face and eyes sparkling with far too much glee.

Shaking his head in confusion, he brought his tail but at the last minute he turned it away so that the side knocked the weapon out of her hand harmlessly, instead, before sinking the stinger against the stone floor beside her arm. Abby looked at it and burst out laughing.

Drawing close to her side, he peered down at her, a snarl on his lips despite the disbelief that shook him. “You tried to kill me… again !”

Abby grinned up at him shrugged unrepentantly, unimpressed and without the slightest hint of fear of anxiety as she giggled. “I figured it would be fun.”

Samir stared at her in bewilderment. “You attempted to slay me… to amuse yourself?”

“Well, I did feel a little guilty about it,” she said cheerfully. “But I figured I ought to at least give it another valiant go since I had plenty of time and saw an opening. I would be a disgrace to my calling if I didn’t even try,” she pointed out as she gave him a sweet smile but then ruined it by breaking out into laughter. “Come on, Samir, it was a joke! Of course I wasn’t trying to kill you. I didn’t even aim or put any force behind that swing.” Her smile slowly died as she took in his expression. “Okay maybe it was a bit too soon as a joke, but you must admit that it was entertaining. Not to mention that it gave both of us much needed exercise.”

He squinted down at her. She seemed earnest enough. He was struggling with it, however, and his mouth twisted with the agony churning inside of him. A look of worry crossed her face, her brows beetling as she slowly pushed herself up from the ground and rose to her feet.

“Hey, Samir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was really just messing around. It was obviously ill-thought out on my part, but I swear I never would have hurt you. You believe me right?”

Sighing heavily, Samir ran a hand through his mane, wincing as his unsheathed claws scraped his head. With a concentrated effort, he retracted them and gave a wary nod. But he couldn’t let it go unpunished. He could have easily killed her in that moment. She did not realize how close to death she came. If it had not been for the need to look at her, to look for any excuse to stop the killing blow, she would have been lost to him… all for a joke. He was going to have nightmares because of this.

Grumbling in annoyance, he grabbed her hand and led her silently from the room as she continued to ramble out apologies. He had to admit that he admired her cunning, and above all her gall, in executing her joke but that did not mean he was not above teaching her a lesson that she so badly needed. Drawing her toward the entrance of his treasure-room, he unlocked the door and led her inside.

Her mouth fell open at the sight of gold and jewels piled in boxes and urns throughout the room amid golden harps and flutes. Her admiration of the treasure was expected but it did not hold her captive for long. With her quick mind it did not take her long to understand his intention. He led her deep within the room and left her there, standing alone, as he stalked toward the door.

“You can’t be serious,” she protested with a laugh as she turned in place, her body rotating as he moved around her so that she could watch him with disbelief as he stepped back into the corridor.

“You will have plenty to amuse yourself with here. And more importantly, I will be able to sleep peacefully without worrying about any further mischief,” he pointed out. “Sleep well,” he rumbled as he turned away, ignoring her furious sputtered protests.

With the door locked between them, he briefly considered going to bed as he had threatened but the idea of lying in the bed alone had become distasteful to him. Instead, he returned to his study and picked up his ink pen as he opened his journal on his desk in front of him to record the recent events of the month. He wrote for a time, his mind returning over and over to the moment of her attack. The teasing note in her voice as she had asked him about a second weapon. There had been no maliciousness. She had been laughing all the while. And she was right, her swing had been sloppy, designed more to shock than to harm.

Damned fool of a female. He adored her but she was going to be the death of him yet. He dragged his hand over his face and his ears twitched as he gradually became aware of a terrible sound that was growing louder as time passed. How long it had been going on he wasn’t sure, but at the octave it was at now, it was plucking at his nerves so that he could hardly concentrate.

What was that infernal noise?

The discordant sound of a harp badly thrummed echoed through the cavern in accompaniment to the lyrics Abby sang. At least that was what he assumed she was doing. Some silly song about lovers never parting. Never had he imagined singing to be a singularly painful experience and yet it brought a smile to his face. And she thought his singing was painful to listen to.

With a groan, he left his study, leaving the door unlocked behind him, and returned to the treasure room. Despite his earlier resolve, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his heart flipping within his chest at the sight of his lovely female seated astride a chest overflowing with gold and jewels while a particularly expensive bolt of cloth was twisted around her middle and secured with a self-made harness from a string of pearls, and a dainty crown was askew on her head as her fingers struck the strings discordantly yet again.

“ Looooove, love is strange ,” she shrilled before dropping the song altogether to beam happily at him. “Oh, you’re back!”

A tired chuckle escaped him, and he opened his arms for her in a simple gesture of forgiveness and affection. He did not know what to expect. It certainly was not the delighted squeal that came from her, or the way she happily jumped into his embrace with so much eagerness and so little finesse that treasure spilled over the both of them, her crown smacking him in the face as it fell from her head.

“Oops, sorry. I swear that wasn’t another attack,” she whispered in his ear, drawing another chuckle from him.

“Very well, I believe you.”

“It would make an awesome addition to your trophy wall.”

He rolled his eyes on the observation and chuckled. “Come, kitten let us go to bed,” he rumbled tiredly around a yawn as he carried her off to bed.

And to his surprise no nightmares came that night, or the next. He had never slept better than when she was right there curled against his side. Perhaps even more so now that he had encountered his worst fear and conquered it. Abby had every opportunity to truthfully try to harm him—perhaps, he could admit to himself, that taking her to his study filled with so many weapons had also been a test—but other than a well-executed but more poorly timed joke, she had not betrayed him. And so, he slept even better as he curled around her, his chest thrumming with his purr in his sleep.