Page 38 of Bound By Blood
The following day, she handled her usual tasks and considered what she could do to convince Ryul that he deserved better. Much, much better.
For once, she might have been glad to see Traelan, but true to his word, he had gone on his way.
Night no sooner came when Ryul was at her door again.
"You should take Buttons out to play," she said, stumbling over her words. "He's been unusually active. I haven't seen hardly any night predators out lately for a while now, so you know we might as well take advantage of it because you know they'll be back with a vengeance."
Buttons barked, though it sounded more questioning. As if he wondered what he had been doing that would make her say such a thing.
"And give him more flying lessons," she added.
Ryul tilted his head. "Are you all right?"
"Wonderful. Just excited to see this little dog learn how to be all he can be."
He grinned then. "He'll be flying in no time."
"Good," she said. "That's what I want to hear."
She then thrust Buttons into his arms and hurried back to the counter where she resumed slicing radishes and potatoes with surgical precision.
If she told him about what had happened to her—what she had done to her own family—that she had lied to him—he would certainly want nothing to do with her then. It would mean also the loss of his friendship. And that…that broke her heart just as much. But it would be safer for both of them.
There wasn't a way to stop these feelings from developing and still be around each other.
The thought of going back to the long lonely nights pained her. Even her music wouldn't comfort her then.
No. There had to be another way.
So she stalled.
Ryul cooperated, though sometimes his hands brushed over hers, or he stood a little closer than usual. More often than not—when she caught him looking at her in that soft warm way, she wanted to collapse against him. Each night, when he hugged her before he left, she wanted to curl deeper into his arms and bury her face in his chest. Sometimes, she had to dig her fingers into her palms to keep from thrusting them into his hair and leaning up to kiss him. And each night, it got harder and harder to step back from his embrace. The thought of telling him anything that might make him dislike her grew harder as well.
For a time, it worked. Occasionally, he protested her sending him out with Buttons despite there being no predators about, suggesting instead that he remain in and help her, but he always complied after she asked whether Buttons was in good fighting condition yet.
One night, the storms came again. He came in drenched, rivulets of water running from his hair down his chiseled cheeks and jaw, his doublet clinging to his hardened body.
"Your creek is turning into a river," he announced.
She darted into her bedroom. "You're soaked! Are you all right?"
Part of her had hoped he wouldn't come that night, and the other part was glad he had. She pulled the large coarse towel out of the closet and turned. He'd followed her in.
Oh.
Stiffening, she hugged the towel close.
He glanced around the small room lit only by the candlelight from the main room. Then he gestured toward the lute resting in the corner by the wall. "I didn't know you played."
Her throat thickened. Forcing a smile, she stepped closer. "Not often and not well. Here." She offered him the towel.
He held out his hand, his gaze raking over her.
How was it that he wasn't even touching her and her body felt like it was on fire?
"Here." She tossed the towel over his head so she didn't have to see his achingly handsome face and darted past him. "I need to start chopping."
Hurrying back to the counter, she pulled out the ingredients. What was she even making tonight? Lavender potato soup with crumbles? That no longer seemed like such a good idea, but she couldn't think of anything else. Lavender supposedly had restorative properties, but it wasn't the easiest ingredient to incorporate into soup.
