Tuesday, I woke early to the sound of my phone, which had remained quiet after last night’s call. I lifted it and read the message from Eliana asking if I wanted a ride to the Academy since I had no car. I wanted to beat whoever had broken my window. That one act of pissiness put me in an uncomfortable position. If I said yes to a ride, Oanen would come with Eliana. I wasn’t ready for that. However, if I said no to a ride and stayed home, Adira might zap my ass to the Academy. And, although I wanted to see if I could find anything more in the library about griffins, I didn’t trust myself to keep my distance from Oanen.
I sent a quick text saying no to Eliana then another to Ashlyn, asking for Eugene, Kelsey, and Zoe’s numbers. While waiting for a reply, I showered and dressed to ensure I wouldn’t end up in the halls unprepared again.
When I checked my phone, I had a reply from Ashlyn, an acknowledgement from Eliana, and a new message from Oanen. I read Oanen’s first.
I’ll let Adira know you won’t be in today.
That was it. There was no ranting or begging. Just Oanen taking care of me like he always did. Could he be any more perfect? I doubted it.
I sighed and sent quick texts asking each of the three new residents of Uttira if they needed anything and if they planned on attending the Academy. Kelsey and Zoe both answered that they were doing well but taking things slowly and didn’t plan on attending until next term. Eugene said he’d be there Friday after he received his new clothes because he didn’t want to look like a homeless drifter anymore.
Making a mental note that I would need to go in Friday, I looked around for something else to keep me busy.
I cleaned the house with a vengeance. Floors, that weren’t really dirty, got swept and scrubbed, including the stairs. I dusted the bedrooms, washed the bedding, and de-webbed ceiling corners. In the kitchen, I washed cabinets and removed everything from the fridge before washing the inside of that, too.
By the time I reached the library, I only opened the door I’d shut long ago, gave the room a glance, and closed the door again. The sun had set, and I was exhausted.
I made myself a quick dinner then went to bed. I thought of Oanen as I closed my eyes and wondered if his day had been as boring without me as my day had been without him.
Thinking of him just before sleeping proved unwise. I dreamt of him flying around endlessly in a storm, searching for me. Lightning hit him repeatedly, burning his feathers and scorching his skin, but he refused to land and stop his search. When I woke drenched in my own sweat, it was because I’d witnessed him die from a lightning strike straight to his heart. It hadn’t come from the sky, but from my hands when he’d finally found me.
I wiped my face and sat up, shaking. Sunlight already lit the room, not that the brightness helped ease the fear I felt. I’d killed Oanen. With fire.
I picked up my phone and hesitated. Sending him a message to ask him to let Adira know I wouldn’t be in again felt mean. Yet, after that dream, I couldn’t ignore the warning.
I won’t be in again today. Maybe tomorrow, I sent.
A moment later, he replied.
I’ll let Adira know.
How could four words convey so much sadness? Maybe because of my own misery.
I set the phone aside and went back to sleep.
After several hours, I woke again and got ready for another boring day. Since I’d cleaned yesterday, I decided to make a mess in the kitchen. Using the internet, I found a recipe for chocolate mousse layer cake and spent the next three hours baking then eating my creation. Chocolate had to have soul-healing powers because, after a few bites, life didn’t feel as bad.
Before I finished washing the mess of dishes I’d made, the rumble of an engine reached my ears. Frowning, I grabbed a towel for my hands and went toward the door just in time to see my car come to a stop. A sheen of familiar golden hair flashed through the newly repaired windshield. My heart thumped heavily, and I stepped closer to the door.
Oanen got out. He didn’t look up at the house, instead he kept his eyes trained on the car. He set his hand on the roof and closed his eyes, a look of anguish crossing his features.
An aching need twisted in my chest. I couldn’t stand seeing him hurt like that. Even burned, he hadn’t looked so tormented.
I opened the door. His expression immediately closed off before his gaze met mine through the screen.
“Adira says that I can’t really hurt anything in this house,” I said, my heart beating faster. “It’d be better if you came inside.”
He lifted his hand from the car and slowly stalked toward me. My pulse raced in anticipation and concern.
He didn’t hesitate on the steps but took the door from my fingers and let himself in. I slowly backed away, keeping our personal bubbles intact.
His deep blue eyes studied me for a long moment.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly.
“You didn’t. I understand why you didn’t want me to know. I mean, I freaked out just like you’d anticipated, right?”
“Are you still freaking out?”
“Yes. My heart feels like it’s trying to pound its way out of my chest.”
“I know.” He looked away for a moment. “But, I don’t know how to make this easier, Megan. How to ease your fears.”
“I don’t think you can. Without knowing what I can do and how to control it, I’m going to keep being terrified that I’m going to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” he said, stepping closer.
I immediately retreated a step.
“Your face is already red. I can feel my own heat, like there’s a fire inside of me growing each second I’m with you. It’s not anger. It’s need. I’m so desperate for you it’s insane. I want you to hold me, but I know what will happen if—”
He moved fast, closing the distance between us and wrapping his arms around me.
“Oanen,” I whispered in warning.
“Don’t push me away. I need this just as badly.”
I couldn’t push him away if I wanted to. We fit perfectly, and I melted against him, laying my head on his chest against my better judgement.
“You’re going to get burned again,” I said.
“Your burns hurt less than your silence.”
His hands rubbed small circles on my back, soothing and comforting me. I lifted my head to look up at him.
“We need to talk about what’s going on, though.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I wanted to say “bonding flights” but could only manage to mouth the words.
“Stupid library,” I mumbled. I set my head back on his chest and felt him swallow hard before holding me tighter.
“I’d ask what else you learned in the library but know you wouldn’t be able to answer.” His hand stroked all the way down my back. I liked how he touched me.
“How about you just tell me everything then?” I said.
“I don’t want to upset you more.”
I didn’t see how he could.
“I’m not ready for kids, by the way.”
His hands stopped moving.
“I know you’re not. We’re taking this at our own pace, no matter what you read in the library.”
“Good. That makes me a little less freaked out. So what are we exactly?”
“Bonded.”
“And what does being bonded to a griffin mean? You said you could feel me. Were you serious?”
“Yes. Just the strong emotions. When you’re happy, sad, angry, hurting.”
“What am I now?”
“Still upset.”
“Probably because you’re starting to smell like burnt toast,” I said, lifting my head.
He let me go, and I took several steps back. His face looked sunburned, and I was willing to bet he had new blisters on his chest where I’d set my head.
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Those aren’t the words I want to hear.”
“What do you want to hear, then?”
“That you’re not giving up.”
I knew what he was saying. He wanted me to tell him that I wasn’t giving up on us and on learning to control whatever was going on inside me. That kind of promise was too dangerous to give lightly. So, I gave him what I could.
“As long as you’re safe, I’ll keep trying.”
Eleven