Page 78 of Obsidian and Frost
“He won’t even respond, let alone actually set that meeting with me!” he continued on—and another fist slammed against the wall.
“Cassius can be quietly infuriating, especially when emotion—that he is not yet well-equipped or learned in order to deal with properly—is involved.”
He threw his hands up in the air and let out a growl.
“I can approach him if you like.”
“Just like when you first offered it, I’m turning it down, Sylas. If it happens that way, he won’t respect me right off the bat. He’ll see me as weak.” He screwed up his face. “As submissive.”
“Then I suggest you go to him, regardless of a meeting being set. It will make a dominant statement.Butshould you take this approach, youmustmaintain control and calm or it won’t land well, and the whole thing will prove utterly fruitless.”
“Argh!” he uttered, pulling at his hair. “It wouldn’t be so frustrating if Velra hadn’t canceled our bike riding hangout. The very day she agreed to it.”
“She didn’t cancel, she postponed. That’s an important distinction.”
“Because she had an assignment to do, though? That’s a blow off if I’ve ever heard one.”
“In this case, it’s not. I told you that Selix gave her an extra assignment following what happened in our class.”
“I know… I get that… I do. But—”
“She’s doing this to heal herself, empower herself, finally find her footing outside of survival mode and everything her brother put her through,andto come back to you in the way you both really want—romantically.”
He scoffed. “Romantically?Really?”
“Should I have said to fuck each other’s brains out, like you’ve clearly both been fantasizing about for a long while?”
He screwed up his face.Interesting.“No,” he ground out. “Don’t put it like that.”
“Because she deserves better than that?”
“Of fucking course.”
It was actually incredibly sweet, not just that he viewed it that way and was so protective of her when it came to all of that, but that he—a rough and tumble wolf-vampire hybrid who constantly had blood dripping from his hands from his Graverun activities—had actually openly admitted it aloud.
“It’s been several days, though,” he spoke, this time without aggression. Withhurtand uncertainty.
“That’s no reflection on you or yourfriendship.”
He nodded, my words at least managing to penetrate, to start to sink in.
And then he started pacing the space, something that I knew from the time I’d brought him to my home to calm down meant it was the tail end of his anger outburst.
The dorm room had the raw, grounded elegance of the man himself. The stonework, the wolf motif, made it feel like it was really his space.
The walls were warm-toned and there was a hearth in the corner, a sturdy bed draped in dark sheets, along with a worn-in leather chair in front of an arched window. His boots were by the door where he’d left them when he’d come in, tipped over and set down haphazardly—mostly because he’d basically just ripped them off when we’d walked in here. Unlike my polished and impeccable leather boots which I was still wearing, mine hadn’t been caked in mud—or blood. A pair of deep-green and black checked pajama pants were tossed on the bed beside several books, one opened and held in place with a spare tactical glove.
It was certainly something.
And, somehow, despite the chaotic nature of it all, I found it rather endearing.
As I leaned against the door to the ensuite bathroom, arms folded across my chest, he finally ceased pacing, then spun to me, rubbing the bracelet that Velra had gifted him.
“I’m good,” he told me. “And I’m sorry.”
“Expressing your emotions doesn’t require an apology.”
“I punched the wall like a maniac—twice.”
