Page 32 of Gift from the Wing

A hammock made of woven vines hangs between two tree trunks that rise from the floor, providing the perfect place to laze around, and I can picture some afternoon naps taking place there.

“Tillman,” I murmur, in absolute awe of how this room fits him so precisely.

“I couldn’t have designed this any better myself. Fuck, he knew us so well,” he says before making his way over to the desk and picking up a frame.

It’s been molded to hold three separate pictures, and the center image is the one that catches my eye. It’s his fourteenth birthday. My heart flips at the scene of him and his mom. Engraved in the frame below them are their names.

Tilly and Tillme.

Tillme?

“Another time, little warrior,” he says softly, running his finger down the frame before setting it back in its spot.

I get the sense my gentle giant has been holding out on some things with me. Like this sweet little nickname. I cock my brow in invitation for him to talk, but he pointedly ignores me, and his skin grows red with embarrassment.

Later then.

We take a few minutes checking everything out, and the guys tease Tillman on his need for a place so peaceful so he doesn’t explode and make the realm crumble. It’s half-truth, half teasing, I know, but Tillman’s ability to calm himself, find his center, his willpower, is astonishing to witness. He’s calmer than any other being I’ve ever met, and that takes strength, resilience, patience. And I look up to him so much for that.

Exiting his space, we walk the few feet down toward the other door on this side. I take a shaky breath because I have no clue what to expect on the inside.

“This is you, your highness,” I say, looking over my shoulder at Corentin. He’s tense, with his hands shoved in his pockets, and I know he’s nervous about what he’s going to see as well.

But like the control master he is, he relaxes his features, pulls his shoulders back, and with no hesitation, opens the door.

The sight startles him as his steps falter, and I chuckle at his surprise.

Yep, this is definitely all Corentin.

The air itself exudes quiet authority and comfort. Dark, polished wood lines the walls, with tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound books and meticulously organized scrolls.

A huge mahogany desk sits in the center. Its surface neat, shiny, and precisely arranged with parchments, pens, and a journal. Can’t lie, when I look at it, I just picture him using his air to sling everything off it before he bends me over it.

My face flames at the thought, and I elbow Tillman when he chuckles, but really, it’s this collected, controlled environment that brings on the safety of me having such a dirty fantasy. The headmaster loses control sometimes. Over me. Only me.

Clearing my throat when Corentin turns his darkened eyes my way, I take in the rest of the room as though I’m not thinking about him fucking me senseless in his new room. My fidgeting and squeezing my thighs together definitely don’t go unnoticed. It just goes unaddressed.

Forcing myself to focus, I eye the high-backed chair, upholstered in rich, navy leather. It’s large enough I could snuggle up on his lap and not disturb his work. As I cross the room to get a look at the little bar in the corner, an intricately woven rug muffles my footsteps, further justifying I wouldn’t bother his concentration if I want to be in here with him.

“Do you have a sudden fear that he won’t be spending time with you or something, little warrior?”Tillman asks, rudely butting into my thoughts.

“Not exactly…maybe. You know how he gets after big reveals. He hides himself away in his work,”I admit.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore, Will.”He shoots me a small smile and I release a deep breath.

Since seeing the magnitude of the decision CC laid in front of Corentin, yeah, I’ve been worried. Worried about each of them honestly, but Tillman and Draken are handling this far better than the Vito brothers. So of course I’ve thought the worst.

My eyes track Corentin as he makes his way to the large windows. They let in soft, natural light that casts a warm glow on the room and the breeze that blows in when he cracks the window truly breathes life into this space. I feel a little bit of my worries fade away when he smiles out into the distance, then turns that tender look on me.

“I like it,” he says casually, but he can’t hide his excitement from me. I don’t call him out, but the way my bond flutters, he more than approves of his space.

Finally, we walk out of the room and Corentin shuts the door behind him as we stare at what we know is Caspian’s room.

My dark protector has been unusually quiet and I hate it. He’s not one for pointless conversations with other people, but with us, we typically get input, crass jokes, and mischief every now and then. None of that has been present. Just his comment to Draken before we started our tour, followed by this emotionally charged silence.

None of us move, allowing him the decision.

He finally makes it when he grabs my hand and drags me forward alongside him. Emotionless, face as hard as stone, he throws the door open and looks around.

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