Page 23 of Hold my Reins

Everything?

The others had been games, flirtations that led nowhere, in part because the other boys were more interested in female kelpies. That didn’t stop them from running with him, nipping and nosing and rubbing up against him as if things might go further.

No, running with Rox felt like something he could do forever. That he wanted to do forever. And if part of that game meant catching Rox and rolling around until there was sand in his tail and ears and everywhere else, then it was perfect.

Maybe next time, he’d be able to tempt Rox into the lake.

Do you want to help me cook dinner?

Do you mean that? Some people don’t like having help in the kitchen.

I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it.

He liked the idea of creating something and enjoying it together. That was possibly his kelpie blood. Next thing, he’d be turning those couple of measures of music that ran through his heart when he thought of Rox into a full song.

He didn’t even know his first name, only his nickname and surname.

Then I’d love to help. Do you need me to bring anything?

No. Do you want to give me your first name so I can put you in my phone properly?

Ugh…I knew you’d ask at some point. Gideon.

That’s a lovely name.

My father named me after himself and he’s a useless sack of shit.

I hate that name.

Rox sent him a crying, laughing emoji.

It’s not the worst name I’ve heard. I once knew someone called Bothvar Bothvarsson. His surname literally means son of Bothvar…you’ll never guess what his father was called.

Lynck stared at his screen. Why the hell had he mentioned that name? Aside from the fact it was so narcissistic, it was almost unbelievable. The frost giant called it tradition. However, not all traditions were worthy of keeping. Too many were kept because people were too lazy to think for themselves.

But now Rox knew the name of the man who’d placed the chain around his neck. What if Rox told someone else? And then word somehow got back to the monster realm that he was in Elder Ridge?

Was he also Bothvar Bothvarsson?

It took several heartbeats before he replied because the chat was no longer light-hearted fun and had morphed into a source of tension and fear, and he couldn’t explain it without telling Rox far too much. He’d already shared too much last night. But secrets created distance, and he wanted Rox to understand him.

Love him.

He wanted the things Bothvar had denied him.

And if Rox felt even half of what he did, it was enough.

When he looked at Rox with his ripped jeans and black shirts, his messy hair, and painted nails, he wanted to protect him from a world that judged him as too different, too much, and yet somehow not enough. He saw the shadowed depths in his blue eyes, the way his gaze flicked to the ground as he scuffed his worn-out sneaker.

He’d felt the same way when he first moved to the human world. It hadn’t mattered that other monsters lived there, onlythat he didn’t belong because he wasn’t human. He’d been certain someone would see all the blood on his hands, that they’d hear rumors of an escaped kelpie and realize it was him, or that he’d be deemed too weird to live among humans.

Compared to other monsters, he was boring. He wasn’t able to shift—whether that was due to the bridle or his own magic, he didn’t know—and he had no other abilities, magic, or tentacles, or any skills beyond fishing, playing the violin, and murder and the latter didn’t belong in human society. The soldiers were very clear about that. Monsters were not allowed to kill humans for any reason, including food.

He exhaled. Rox was waiting for a response, and he knew nothing about frost giants and bridles.

Correct. He was also Bothvar, as were his grandfather and great grandfather.

Do you like your surname, or do you wish you’d chosen it?

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