Page 15 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
Nirgal shook his head. “Not true. Wings hum. I find the sound of yours uniquely soothing.”
Peat’s blush darkened. Head hung, Peat’s long hair covered his features as he looked down and away. “That’s… I’m not sure what to say to that.”
“I do not believe any words are required.”
With an exasperated huff, Peat pushed a lock of hair behind the slightly pointed tip of an ear. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”
Nirgal gave an oddly human shrug. “I’ve had centuries to contemplate responses. Even so, I believe you are being far too generous with your praise.” Nirgal did not believe he’d ever been told something so erroneously kind.
Whether it was truly the correct word choice or not, Peat kept his silence as he stared into the darkened night. Tiny willow wisps of light could be seen darting in and out. The sprite colony was already busy.
“They’re industrious little fellows, aren’t they?” Peat said, mirroring Nirgal’s thoughts.
“They seem quite content and eager to shape their new home.”
“The forest is happy they’re here.” Peat’s tone was soft and sounded distant.
Nirgal wasn’t certain how that worked. Peat was a home-and-hearth pixie but shared an affinity for the woods. Peathad informed him his connection wasn’t nearly as strong as a nature pixie’s would be, but since the surrounding lands were part of the château, it called to him as well.
“Have they been bothering you?” Nirgal asked, truly hoping that wasn’t the case. He desperately wanted the sprites and his pixie to get along.
Peat shook out his long hair, the ends barely kissing the swell of Peat’s rump. “No. They’ve been adhering to our earlier agreement. I don’t think they’ve realized yet that I’m outside.”
“Ah. Well, that is good to hear.”
Silence settled once more. The quiet would have been comfortable enough if Nirgal didn’t suspect Peat had something on his mind that needed aired out. Patience was key, and Nirgal had developed that particular trait centuries ago. After all, when one had an eternity to live, time became irrelevant.
Bullfrog song soon joined the soft, nightly chorus. It was amazing how peaceful the sounds of darkness were. Nirgal stood there, sentinel still, his body positioned to block the light breeze from touching Peat’s poorly clad body.
Crickets soon joined the evening melody, and finally it seemed Peat was ready to speak.
“Why aren’t you feeding?” Peat bluntly asked without any sort of segue. Peat’s head turned, his bright eyes staring up at Nirgal with worry.
“Why do you assume I am not?” Nirgal countered, temporarily avoiding the question.
Peat sucked on his bottom lip. It was a habit Nirgal liked a little too much. “I heard Cassius and Gashan discussing it. Don’t be mad at them. They didn’t know I was there, listening in.”
Despite Peat’s desires, Nirgal still felt his vampiric blood stir. While he understood his nestlings’ concerns, he did notappreciate being spoken of, especially where curiously worried ears could hear.
Taking a moment to calm himself, Nirgal considered the question along with his response. He would not lie to his pixie, but he did not wish to frighten him either. “The blood I’ve been offered lacks appeal.” That was making far too light of the circumstances but was not a lie either.
Peat’s eyebrows scrunched. “Why?”
“Why does it not appeal?” At Peat’s nod, Nirgal answered, “I am not completely certain. However, it is not a recent development.”
“But it’s gotten worse,” Peat rightly guessed.
Nirgal gave a faint nod. “It has.”
“To the point you won’t drink it or that you can’t?”
It was a far too perceptive question for one who was not a vampire. “It would not kill me,” Nirgal answered. “However, I find the very odor of the blood nauseating. I doubt I would be able to keep it down even if forced.”
Peat wrapped his shawl tighter around him. Pixie dust once more floated to the ground, disappearing before it could hit the surface. “Is this my fault?” Peat sounded heartbroken.
“No,” Nirgal immediately answered. “No one is to blame.” Nirgal meant those words with every fiber of his being.
Peat cocked his head, and Nirgal knew his pixie wasn’t convinced. “I phrased that wrong.” Peat’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Has my presence made the scent of other blood less appealing?” When Nirgal hesitated, Peat tacked on, “Please, be honest.”
