Page 11 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

We were ready to let them go, I think.

Studying my mate as he comes in and sits down in front of me, I notice that the loss has changed him. He’s taming his wild locks, keeping them bound in the sleek braid. Instead of skintight jeans and fashionable shirts, he’s donning track pants and cotton tanks. For days now, he’s locked himself in his studio, cutting himself off from the world just as I am. When he comes out—like now—he’s covered in paints, pastels, and charcoal.He’s walled himself off to deal with his pain, but here he is, checking on mine.

Rafe truly is the best of all of us.

“Usually, I start doing things like slinging paint — messy, unstructured things—that make me feel like I’m letting my emotions free so I can think again,” he says softly.

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.”

Taking my hand, he kisses my knuckles. “If not, my love, then you need to do what no one ever does for us: seek him out and force a conversation. Clear the bloody air. Don’t let the one thing that’s been making you happy amongst all this mess slip away out of fear or stubbornness.”

His smile is so heartbroken that my words catch in my throat before I can even speak. I can’t help but wonder who that pain is for: Rhea or Alistair. I have a guess and if I’m right, I understand. It’s hard to make a clean break with someone that didn’t actually commit the atrocities.

A dull, nauseating ache throbs inside me, but I don’t know if it’s from their loss, Taurus, or the shambles my life is in. Rafe is probably right about what I should do, but I don’t know if I can do it. “But…”

“No buts. You’ve been moping in this closet all week, but think about what you should have been doing. There are three member disputes that need negotiating—all of which are being raised because they sense weakness. That bloody bar opened and it's packed every day, despite the ongoing dispute with the owners and the council that still isn’t resolved. Tamara is trying her hardest to throw a party for Shea’s birthday month and having a hissy that no one wants to come because of the turmoil here. It’s abloody messhere and you have to fix this problem with the bird. Our townneedsyou to lead and you are in no condition to do it. Lily cannot hold the fort down forever while you mope. Find him.”

I furrow my brows. “You’re not happy.”

“I don’t have to be. I’m not the de facto mayor of our little burg, am I? People aren’t testing my limits. They are testing you and they sure as shit are watching to see how you handle all of this.”

Closing my eyes, I nod. “I know. Pushing limits and boundaries comes from fear, too. Sari must be whipping up the froth because she’s pissed at Rhea and scared to death of the unknown that Taurus represents. It will only get worse if I can’t be open about what’s going on.”

“Exactly. So, pop off and fix it, my night bloom. Figure it out together.”

I lean in and drop a kiss on his jaw. “Only if you promise to stay out of the studio and be around the family. I don’t like you stewing alone.”

“If you insist.” Rolling to his feet, he winks and heads out, leaving the door open for me.

Hell. I guess I need to go find out how badly I’ve fucked things up.

Taurus isn’t here when I arrive, so I walk over to the bar. Fixing myself a drink, I toss it back and then pour another. It can’t hurt to have a little liquid courage. Looking down at the mini-fridge, I open it. I’ll be damned if it isn’t filled with snacks I like. I swear to Christ, he thinks of everything, even when he isn’t here. Swiping a container of freshly sliced fruit, I head over to the couch to wait.

Curling up, I try to focus on the right words and chants for Beltane. I brought my binder so that I could at leastattemptto do something if he wasn’t here. Since this needs to be finished, I sip my vodka again, munching on a piece of kiwi as I scribble. I shiver a little, and I frown. Pausing for a moment, I scoot over to grab the blanket draped on the back of the couch and a scent tickles my nose.

He’s here.

I can feel him outside in the hallway. There’s a sweet scent mixed in with his usual aroma of expensive cologne and leather—fear. I don’t turn around, but I murmur, “Are you going to stand out there all night with the door hanging open?”

When he finally speaks, his voice is low and gravelly. “People think they’re in love because of how their loved ones make them feel. That’s not love—it’s selfishness because it’s all about you.”

A philosophical debate about love will not help us move past what happened last week.; I didn’t come here to be lectured.

“While I was gone, I thought about what I feel for you. I love how you make me feel when we’re together. That part might be selfish, but it’s not the only reason I love you. It’s not even the most important reason I love you. More than anything, I love you for who you are—your heart and your mind. I realized that your experiences are what have and will continue to shape who you are.”

Nodding slowly, I stay silent and sit my chin on my knees. I wasn’t the one who broke us—despite what my guilty conscience wants me to believe—so I need him to show me that he knows he was wrong.

“I’m a lesser person when the selfish bits pinch me. I’m less of a man.”

Setting all my trappings aside, I turn my head to the doorway. I hold a hand out, gesturing for him to come in. He steps in the room and gets close enough to touch my fingertips.I grasp at his fingers, pulling him closer bit by bit. He grips my hand tightly and I can feel the emotions swirling inside him.

“I’m sorry.”

I smile softly, squeezing his hand. He knows that he fucked up and he knows why. It’s more than I get from any of my other mates, so I can accept it. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He slowly rounds the couch and joins me, wrapping his arms around me. “I forgot something during my whacked out tantrum last week.”

“What was that?” I ask curiously.

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