Page 40 of Trapped By Claws
Something in the small way he smiled cut my heart. He just remained there, crouched, staring at it. "How did you move this stove in here? It's heavy."
"I'm stronger than I look," I declared, smiling. "I bet if I needed to, I could carry you." As he scoffed good-naturedly, I shook my head. "I could."
"I'm heavier than this woodstove by a long shot," he said.
"And I am far stronger than I look." I glanced back at him, those threads inside me plucking as I looked at him. "So you've never had any heat? Ever?"
"We don't do fire in this place. There are hot water streams. Especially in the King of the North Sea's actual home. But not where I live. The caves stay fairly constant in their temperature year round." He stared at the flickering flames and the glowing wood. "I didn't even know fire existed until—well, until one of the ships caught fire during a storm. It was an oil fire."
"How long have you lived here?"
"Oh…years now. As soon as I was old enough to hold the eel form, they put me here." He ran his hand along the edge of the wood stove. "It's hard to keep track of time down here."
"And you've always been alone?" I knew the answer as soon as I asked it. But it had slipped out nonetheless.
"I'm an enforcer. Enforcers aren't allowed to have mates. And these are the outskirts of the North Sea. I'm fortunate enough to have shelter and a purpose," he said quietly. He pulled his hand back and looked down at it, his fingers pressing against the clawed bracelet that was set against his flesh.
Something inside me clenched. I wanted to ask more, but before I could, he turned his gaze to me. "You really are remarkable with your problem solving, clever girl."
Heat rose to my cheeks at once. I at once took my special spoon and scooped up the stew into one of the bowls. "It's nothing." Discomfort at the compliment clipped my words. "Now come on. We should eat before it gets cold." My gaze drifted back to him. He was still looking at me. The moment our eyes met, sharper heat and tightness spasmed through me. My cheeks had to be bright red by now. "How are you able to get dry so fast?" I stumbled over my words.
He held my gaze a moment longer, his eyes bright and yet vulnerable. Then he cleared his throat. "It's a shifter fae trick, but it isn't always reliable." He ran his hand through his thick hair, finally breaking away. "Sometimes I accidentally destroy what I'm trying to dry."
"Destroy it? How?" I scowled, raising an eyebrow.
"It turns to dust. I've lost whole outfits that way." He straightened and took the bowl from my hands. He carried it to the table. "I don't have complete control over my shifting all the time. Part of—well, just part of who I am." He set it down and then crossed back to me as Tagger trailed along. "It smells…incredible."
"If you can't have fire, what do you do for cooking food? Do you just dry it?"
"The only time we eat hot food is when we're in the king's court. They have streams of hot water there and lava vents," he said, his voice tight.
I ladled the thick stew into a second bowl, making sure to add a little extra of the savory red broth. "Well, now you can have hot food here." I set my special wooden spoon down. The silence barely breathed between us before I launched into my own question. I couldn't handle any quiet right now. "Why do you have all this stuff if you don't use it? There's almost enough there to build a whole ship." Was he maybe trying to escape on his own?
"You never know when you'll need it," he said with a shrug. "I don't know what a fair bit of it's for. But it seemed wasteful to leave it." He took the second bowl from me and carried it to the table. "You didn't have to do this. It was a lot of effort."
"It benefits me as much as you." I tried to sound casual. My heart raced faster.I paused as he pulled out the chair for me. "Oh. Um. Thank you."
I sat slowly, realizing that the place he had chosen for me was where he had put the first bowl of stew. He'd served me first. "Were you able to find my mother?"
He took a spoonful of the stew. "She was resting in the shelter," he said. "I didn't want to wake her." His eyes widened as he took a bite. "This…this is incredible." He took another bite, then gasped as he burned his tongue. Shaking his head, he gulped down mouthfuls of water. Then he cleared his throat. "They said she was fine. It was the captain I spoke with. He was at the meeting point. So I gave him your message, and he promised to tell your mother when she woke. I think that storm is going to keep them there for a while longer."
I paused. "How did Hosvir know to meet you there?"
He lifted his head from his stew, startled. "What?"
NOT MY MATE
Ifrowned. Why was he so surprised at that question? "You said he was at the meeting point. Why did you have an established meeting point?"
"Um…" He cleared his throat, his back now straight. "It was the point at which we met. Not so much a formal place. I saw him, and I remembered that he seemed to care for your mother. Which he does. And so I asked him, and I gave him the message. He promised to give it to her. It's not really anything special. Then I handled my other tasks for the king. This is delicious." He cleared his throat, staring down once more at the bowl of stew. His shoulders dropped. "I didn't realize how…bad this place was until you were here." He shoveled another bite in his mouth.
"Really? Don't you feel the cold?" Damn it. It had just slipped out. I shook my head, dipping my chin down. Now I needed to change the topic, though I made a note to return to what had happened with Mama and Hosvir. Something felt off about his story. Not that he hadn't met with Hosvir. Somehow, I knew that part was true. But the part about the meeting place was not. "I'm sorry. I just—sometimes I say things?—"
"No. It's true. It's always cold. It's not pleasant. It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't do well down here." He paused. "Maybe that's why…" He paused, considering something.
"Why what?" My curiosity prickled.
"Humans are forbidden in my home."
