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I turn in the chair so fast I almost fall off, but she stands up and walks away from the table without a backwards glance. Unsurprisingly, she’s immediately surrounded by alphas vying for her attention.
My stomach churns painfully, and I put the scone down. I couldn’t possibly eat now. I think I know what she means, but there’s no way. She wouldn’t, would she?
Grayson slides into a seat next to me and smiles. “Phew, I thought she might actually stay here.”
I peer at him absent-mindedly. What the fuck did Silver mean when she said that? The only thing I can think of is the couple of times she disappeared. Has she been pretending to be me? The thought rips through my confusion, leaving nothing but horror behind.
I feel sick all of a sudden and suck in a breath to calm the roiling in my stomach.
“Hey, Onyx, breathe. It’s going to be okay. I can leave if you want.”
I grip his hand and cling tightly to it. The last thing I want right now is Silver getting her paws on him.
“Talk to me, what’s going on?” Gray whispers, and it’s almost as if he cares.
“I just…” I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What can I say? My sister is a two-faced tyrant and only I know it?
“All right. So, I have a present for you. I was going to take you there later and romance you into a flurry of love. But let’s go now, huh? No love-bombing. I swear.”
He stands up, dragging me with him, and leads me out of the yellow room. In fact, in minutes, I find us outside in the misty morning.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trotting to keep up with him.
He grins and winks at me, then turns to the path with the garden. I stumble, but he catches me.
“Falling for me already, ah, if only I'd known the way to your heart was down the garden path.”
He laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulders as we slip inside. The guards discreetly move back into place. And then all around us are ten foot high shrubs. The sounds of the world vanish, and it’s just him and me.
“So, this garden is, well, for lack of being poetic, it’s how I see my father’s relationship with my mother. That’s the inspiration. It’s also how I feel about Dylan, but I try really hard not to tell anyone that.”
My heart’s thudding wildly, and I can’t stop smiling. Grayson is so much more than he appears. He’s creative, considerate, and vulnerable. All these parts of him I never would have guessed existed. He’s a good man, I can see that now. He’s worthy of Dylan, and I, well, I like him, too. He makes me want to explore, try new things, and relax. It would be easy to fall in love with this alpha.
“Why?” I have to clear my throat and repeat the question, but when he looks at me, my stomach flutters, and my cheeks warm.
“It's hard to put myself out there. I’m happy and carefree, tough, you know? But I’m an alpha, and I run an empire, and I’m supposed to know what’s right. I’m not supposed to be creating love sonnets with flowers and shrubs.”
“Why not? You’re an artist. People need beautiful places to fill their hearts.”
“That’s the other half of my argument,” Gray says wryly and leads me around a corner.
I stop dead and just take it all in. “It’s like Alice in Wonderland.”
“Exactly. Love makes the world seem insane while being perfectly logical and reasonable. My mother and father are insane to everyone but them. They are cold and cruel and live in their own world, but it's because of how they feel towards each other. They are the essence of that story.”
There’s a massive, red-leaved maple tree in the middle, with a creek that runs in front. A checkerboard is made out of two different colour grasses, while statues appear to hang from the very sky. Vines form doorways, and beds of flowers line the paths of white rocks.
“It’s beautiful, Gray.”
“I think so. It’s certainly my better work. You see, the concept has been haunting me since I was about sixteen. The problem was finding a balance of madness that encompasses the story and peace that a garden like this needs to give.”
“I feel both of those things. I feel wonder, excitement, peace.” I say and reach out to put a hand on his arm. “It’s lovely.”
Gray smiles at me, and this time, his expression is more vulnerable, more real.
He removes his arm and holds his hand out to me. Without hesitation, I reach out and slip my fingers into his grip. He walks me along, talking about the flowers and the design process. Even the selection of the maple and its transportation has a remarkable story. The tree would have had to have been cut down.
He rescued a tree.
