Page 42 of Shadow of Spring (Wild Haven 2)

17

Lena

Last night was a strange mixture of awful, hot, and then horrible again. I shouldn’t have expected much more than that from a party at Archer’s parents’ house. It was stupid to think it might be enjoyable because Archer was with me. Granted, parts of it were. The library had been the start of something that could have set the entire place on fire, but then Anthony walked in.

I shudder, feeling the oily creep of him on my skin still. I know he’s Fae, and that he has magic, but there is something seriously wrong with him. Obviously, there’s no doubt based on his past actions. Still, before last night, I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to his presence. It’s as if I could read his life force and it is dirty. Is that how all Fae are? Does that mean there’s evil down deep, ingrained in our ancestry, because we’re part Fae? Is that why our parents are all horrible people?

When we tested our magic at Miri’s house last week, my results came back confusing. They were, frankly, a frightening combination of life and death magic. I still don’t know what that means, and I’ve been dragging my feet about finding out. If anyone could figure it out, it would be me. I’m the one with the largest collection of books on Fae lore and local mythology. I can spot my fear from a mile away. I haven’t looked into it because I don’t know if I want to learn what I can do. What if I’m some harbinger of death, or I’m some kind of Fae grim reaper? Not that people are dropping dead around me, but hell, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

The part of me that wants to bury my head in the sand fights with my other half. The one who can’t stop digging, who can’t quit searching for answers until I know everything. All of the details, all of the secrets. I smile at the thought. In that way, Archer and I are so alike. Only he likes gathering gossip, while I want to hoard all the knowledge.

My face falls as I think about Archer, and I rub a hand over my eyes. I’m lying in bed, alone, having an internal debate about whether I should stay here all day. It’s tempting to hide under the covers, but I know I should do something productive.

When Archer dropped me off last night, we said a stiff, awkward goodbye. I went off to my apartment and Archer left for his house. I’d had big ideas before the party about him coming home with me, or that we’d stay at his place for the night. So far, all we’ve had are these stolen moments at totally inconvenient places; the library, the Smithe’s, his parents’ library. I want an entire night where nothing is rushed, and yeah, I want to sleep next to him all night long. To hear the sounds of his breathing as he sleeps, to feel the heat of his body close to mine, to wake up in his arms and start the entire process all over again. Instead, Anthony’s pleasure at seeing us together nearly paralyzed us both.

Why would it matter to Anthony if we’re together? The only reason that makes any sense is because of the bond and the Axis. Does that mean that we’re playing right into his hands? Are we simply pawns he’s moving around on his chess board, falling into place with a little nudge in the right direction? These questions have been running on a loop in my mind all night.

I huff out a breath, frustrated by everything. Why did I think we can have all of that? A night full of affection, that bubble of intimacy when it’s just the two of you against the world. I want that with Archer so badly, but we haven’t even kissed. I slap a palm over my eyes. I’m such an idiot.

After I got inside my apartment last night, I stood there for a good five minutes. My phone was clutched in my hand while I debated what to do. I was scared. For so many reasons. What if Archer and I don’t work out? We could ruin our friendship, his friendship with Rhys, our entire group dynamic. Most of all, he has my heart, even if he doesn’t know it. He has the power to break me. Maybe Anthony, the bond, the Axis, all of it, is an excuse that I’m hiding behind.

No. There’s reason to be concerned about that as well. Probably. Which is why I sent Archer the text.

I groan and kick down my sheets in a huff, annoyed by all the unknowns and the unsatisfied ache thrumming between my thighs. God, I really wanted Archer to come back here last night. With a loud sigh, I swing my legs out of bed and accept that I’m just going to have to be irritated and horny for the foreseeable future.

My phone pings on my dresser, and I give it a wary look. Archer sent me at least a dozen messages and called a handful of times since last night. I’m a chicken. And an asshole. I haven’t responded. I don’t know what to say to him. If I do, I might take it back and apologize. Tell him I was scared, and it was a gut reaction to tell him that we should cool things off. But a part of me, the rational part of me, thinks that it might be a good idea to back off.

And…my thoughts loop back to all my worries and questions. None of us really knows what’s involved in the bonding. Even Miri and Davis, who are already bonded, don't know much more than what Anthony did to them at his house. Out of all the books I have about the Fae, and our local island lore, none of them say a thing about how to form a bond. What if, by becoming closer, Archer and I inadvertently form the bond? Is that even possible?

What I do know from my books about the bond is that the pair are supposed to be soulmates, a perfect match for one another. To me, that implies being a couple of some sort. Which means it’s probably best if Archer and I stay away from one another.

All of these questions muddling up my brain make it all too apparent that we just don’t have enough information. And part of that is my fault. I can’t keep being willfully ignorant about what my magic can do.

Reluctantly, I fumble out of bed and get ready for the day.

* * *

“What are you doing here today? You can’t stand to have a day off work?” Destiny is checking in books behind the counter when I walk through the library doors.

“I need a book from my office.”

“What are you researching?”

“Oh, you know, some family tree, ancestry stuff.” I wave my hand in the air before pushing up my glasses.

“Have fun. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

I leave Destiny to her work and make my way back to my office. The library is quiet as I slip into my office, comforted by the stacks of books and the distinct smell of leather and paper. One of these days I really need to clean this place up, but most of the time I get distracted whenever I try. Finding a long-lost book at the bottom of the pile, or tucked behind another on the shelf, is the quickest way to divert my attention.

I know exactly what book I’m looking for today. It’s the book in my collection that has the most detail about magic. Supposedly, it was written by one of the children of the original sentinels. A few months ago, I would have laughed at that and said that it was just a fantasy story to bump up the sale price of the book. Now that I know all of this is real, I have to wonder if it really was written by a descendent of the original sentinels.

Walking over to one of the bookshelves, I run my fingers over the spines of the books. I search for leather so dark it looks black. There’s no title, just four embossed symbols on the spine that are repeated on the cover. A sun, moon, leaf, and flower. It’s jammed in too tightly, and I pull it out with a huff. I really need to clean this place up.

My desk chair has another stack of books on the seat, and I gently move them to a table and then sit down. There’s not enough room on my desk, so I cross my legs and put the book in my lap. I carefully open the book and then stop to shake out my hands. My fingers are trembling.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. And talking to yourself isn’t a sign of insanity.” I push up my glasses and stretch my neck from side to side. It’s just words. They won’t change who I am.

This book wasn’t run on a printing press or neatly organized. There’s no table of contents, no index that tells me exactly where I need to search. That means I’m forced to flip through the pages with meticulous care, one by one, scanning for the information I need. I find myself stopping, on more than one occasion, and getting lost in the words on the page.

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