Page 41 of Cursed Wolfsbane

BRIAR

Staring sightlessly at the ceiling, I realize I won’t be sleeping tonight. I don’t know why I even bothered to lie down when so much has happened. Even though it’s one in the morning, my mind is wide awake, going over and over and over my new memories. I feel like I’m on a playground spinner that’s tossing me around until I’m ready to puke.

After talking with Xander, we came back and decided just to have dinner at Saint’s house. None of us felt like going out again, so we spent the evening talking, playing board games, and watching a cheesy action movie. It was perfect, and it kept my mind busy for a while.

Now, though, lying in bed is just giving my mind time to overanalyze everything to death. Sighing, I shove the covers off and reluctantly leave the warm bed. Anything is better than sitting here drowning in it all, so I pad to the door to my room in one of Malachi’s black T-shirts and the stretchy shorts I wear under skirts at school.

Malachi and Saint are each in their own rooms, and Bastian and Xander are sharing a room. I decided to sleep alone so my restlessness wouldn’t wake up anyone—and because I didn’t want to have to choose between the Wyldharts and Saint. I wasshocked when Malachi didn’t put up a fight, but I think he could sense how much the day had affected me.

Quietly inching the door open, I slip out into the hallway. I move on silent feet down the stairs. I plan to head out the French door to the backyard. Something about being outside at night always calms me. When I reach the main floor, I see light spilling in from under the door to the garage. Curious who else is up, I creep toward it. As I get closer, I hear Hozier’s “Work Song” playing.

Pushing open the garage door, I have to blink a few times to adjust to the bright lighting after being in mostly darkness for hours. When my eyes adjust, I see Saint lying on his back working on the underside of a motorcycle. He’s shirtless, only wearing faded jeans streaked with grease and black boots.

I almost swallow my tongue as I get a good look at his ripped six-pack, defined pecs, bulging biceps, and drool-worthy V that disappears into his jeans. His muscles are flexing and bunching as he works, which is quite the show.

Saint also has two full sleeves of tattoos. From here, I can make out that one arm is covered in a black and gray winding vine with roses and thorns. The other one seems to be a collection of animals, with a howling wolf as the centerpiece. Cardinals, ravens, spectral dogs, and even an elephant are woven around the wolf. My heart squeezes at the rose and thorns tattoo. I’m pretty sure Saint got that one for me, but I wonder what the others mean.

Tearing my gaze away from his tattoos, I notice the large chunks of black, gray, and green plastic pieces scattered to the side of him. Wandering closer to get a better look, I wince as my weight causes the bottom step to creak loudly.

Saint bolts upright at the sound. Red magic glows in one of his hands as he hunts for the source of the noise. He lets out arelieved breath when he sees it’s just me. I give him an awkward wave, which I regret instantly.

“What are you doin’ here, little shadow?” Saint climbs to his feet and moves over to me. He stops when we’re toe to toe, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. I feel the heat radiating off his naked chest. I unintentionally sway closer until we’re practically touching. My cheeks burn when I realize I’m practically shoving myself into his bare abdomen.

I take a small step backward, trying to put distance between us again. “I couldn’t sleep. Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“You’re not. I was just surprised to see you is all. Do you not sleep well or is everything from today keeping you up?”

“A little from column A and a little from column B.” I give him a small shrug. “What about you? Is working in your garage at one a.m. a normal thing for you?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been able to sleep well for… a while.” Saint rubs a hand over the back of his neck as he avoids my gaze. I can fill in what he’s not saying, though. He hasn’t been able to sleep since I left.

“I’m sorry, Saint,” I whisper. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so I switch topics. “Whatcha doin’?”

He holds out his hand for me to take. I put my palm in his, enjoying the warmth on my cool skin. Saint tugs me over to the motorcycle that’s in pieces and points to the large plastic pieces. “I took off the fairings and the gas tank to get a better look at some of the wiring. I’ve been having some weird issues with the bike. I want to see if I can fix it, or if I have to take it to a mechanic.”

I nod like I have any idea what a fairing is or what it does. “What’s a fairing?”

Saint grins at me. “It’s those big plastic parts. They’re on sports bikes to make them more aerodynamic. They cut throughthe wind and reduce drag. Some sport bikes have a naked variety without fairings.”

“That’s cool,” I respond lamely and barely hold in a groan at myself. Can I respond not awkwardly to anything? “I didn’t know you rode motorcycles.”

Saint leans against the seat of the bike that’s in pieces. “I didn’t before you left.”

“Oh. Why’d you get into it?”

He gives me a wry smile. “I had nothing else to do and wanted to feel something other than what I was feeling.”

“I’m sorry, Saint.” My heart hurts for him and how alone he must’ve felt. It’s strange knowing him but not really knowing him. I have all these memories of the kid Saint used to be, but I don’t really know who Saint the man is. I want to find out, though. “What type of bike is it?”

Saint gives the bike an affectionate pat on the handlebars. “She’s a Kawasaki H2R. She’s a liter bike with an inline four supercharged engine that tops out a little over two hundred miles an hour.”

My jaw drops in shock. “Jesus fuck, that’s fast.”

Saint snorts. “Yeah. Very fast.”

“Would you ever let me ride it?” I ask, even though I have no clue how to ride a motorcycle. Even if I did know, let’s be real here. I’d probably suck so hard at it. Coordination isn’t really my strong suit. Need someone to speed read a book? I’m your girl. Need someone to play a team sport? You’re better off with a soggy potato chip as a teammate than me.

“Hell no,” Saint replies automatically. My eyebrows rise at his vehemence. I can’t decide if I’m offended or agree with him. “She’s an overpowered death machine. There’s no way I’d let you get on her, little shadow. Do you want to learn to ride?”

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