Before I could respond, he threw his arms around my waist and squeezed, his face pressing against my chest. He was warm and solid and smaller than I’d expected, and my arms came up around him without my permission, one hand settling on the back of his head, feeling the fine texture of his hair.
I let myself relax into it for nearly five seconds before I realized what I was doing and stiffened.
He stepped back, still smiling. “Sorry. I’m a hugger. It’s a thing.”
“It’s... fine.” My voice sounded strange in my own ears. I cleared my throat. “I should go. I have reports to file.”
“Sure.” He was already turning back to the paper, the charcoal stick moving across the page. “Thanks again.”
I gave a short nod and left, closing and locking the door behind me. I turned towards my writing desk, then shook my head, and stalked back out of the apartment. I wasn’t specifically searching for paints, but if I happened to come across some, I might just bring them back to Pip.
Chapter 5
Pip
Aeldrycwasreadingadocument as I pushed stew around my bowl, the same questions spinning in my head: When can I leave? When can I go home? When can I get out of these fucking wool pants? But he wasn’t looking at me, and didn’t seem to notice that the restlessness inside me had become a living, breathing thing.
As soon as he was done eating, he’d locked me back in that room.
I’d been trapped in this weird medieval fantasy camp for five days. Had Sky noticed I was gone? Would anyone? My phone was probably claimed by another dancer by now. The club would hire a replacement. Another desperate twink with a flexible schedule and even more flexible hamstrings.
I paced the small room, running my hands through my hair until it stood on end. The floor was cold under my bare feet. A strange bell tolled in the distance, followed by the cry of some creature that definitely wasn’t a bird. I pressed my face to the window, trying to see. The night sky was dense with stars I didn’t recognize. There were too many, and they were too bright. It should have been beautiful, but it was freaking me out.
I’d always thought I’d like to travel, but not like this.
My stomach still felt tight from dinner. The stew had been good. Better than anything I could’ve made. There’d been real herbs in it, actual chunks of meat. Not like the frozen Trader Joe’s meals I ate while standing in my shoebox kitchen.
Aeldryc had been treating me well, for a prisoner. I had a bed, food, and a toilet that didn’t work anything like the ones I was used to, but it worked. But there was nothing for me to do. No one to talk to except Aeldryc, who spoke in four-word sentences and looked at me like I was a bomb about to go off. There was no music, no TV, no internet, no dancing. Just four stone walls, a few sheets of paper, and the crushing weight of being completely, utterly alone.
I pressed my forehead against the cool stone of the wall and tried not to cry. I wasn’t a crier. I was the guy who made dick jokes while getting dental work. I twerked for drunk straight girls at bachelorette parties. I’d survived three foster homes and a year of couch-surfing. But being so far from everything I’d ever known, with no way back, made my chest ache.
The knock on the door was so soft I almost missed it. I jerked upright, heart pounding. No one knocked on my door except Aeldryc, and Aeldryc never came back after dinner. He’d established that routine the first night: food, awkward silence, lock the door, leave. I wasn’t even sure why he insisted on eating with me. He could have just slipped my food under the door or something.
The knock came again, a little louder this time. “Come in.” I cleared my throat, wiping at the tears. “It’s not like I can stop you.”
The door swung open. Aeldryc stood in the doorway, his massive frame silhouetted by the lantern light from the corridor.
He’d changed out of his usual leather armor and into a simple linen shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders. His hair was damp, as if he’d just washed it, and his eyes looked almost black in the dim light.
He hesitated in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “May I enter?”
I shrugged. “It’s your house. Your prison. Whatever.”
“If you tell me to leave, I’ll leave.”
Please don’t leave me alone.“Fine, come in.”
He stepped into the room, filling it with his presence. He was too big for the space, too solid. The air around him seemed to vibrate, charged with something I couldn’t name. He was carrying a woven basket with a cloth covering the top.
“I wanted to check on you,” he said, setting the basket on the small table by the window. “You didn’t eat much at dinner.”
I hugged my arms across my chest. “I wasn’t hungry.”
He watched me, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been pacing. I… hear you.”
“There aren’t a lot of options for entertainment in here.”
Something flickered across his face, too quickly for me to read. “I’ll speak with the Queen. Perhaps she’ll permit you to walk in the gardens, with an escort.”
