Page 1 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

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The scent of coffee eased some of the tension bracketing my body. I took a deep inhale and got in line, letting the atmosphere of Awake Coffee wash over me. The background jazz music, the din of voices, the loud noises from the grinder and espresso machine. It was pure comfort, the single indulgence I allowed myself these days.

I flexed my aching shoulders and glanced down at my raw knuckles. Today's MMA class had been brutal in the best way. I suppressed a smile at the sight of my inflamed skin. Every bruise was chosen, not inflicted, not anymore.

My routine was the same every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I went to my MMA class at 2:00pm, then dropped by Awake on my way home. Grabbing my favorite drink was the best reward for pushing myself outside my comfort zone, one I frequently reminded myself not to feel guilty about. Especially if it meant getting a few minutes inside my favorite coffee shop.

Awake Coffee was located in the heart of one of Walton’s quieter neighborhoods. I loved West Cross for its clean streets and walkable establishments—a human neighborhood that supernaturals largely ignored, unlike the high-rise chaos of Midtown just a few miles away. Making it safer, too.

A burst of raucous laughter had me glancing over my shoulder as a group of locals entered. I turned away before anyone had the chance to greet me or make small talk, fixing my gaze on the hand-decorated chalk menu, pretending to contemplate my choices, even though I had the entire thing memorized.

There were times I missed the girl I once was. But that girl had died at the hands of Luke Portman. Died and come back stronger, albeit not without scars.

The changes had been gradual. The slow death of my confidence. The retreat into myself. The loss of my friends—all except one. Everything leading up to the night that both stripped me bare and gave me my life back.

It had taken the better part of two years to heal. To forge me into the woman I was today. But there were some things I might never get back because of how I was forced to live now. The secrets I was forced to keep.

The line shifted again. It was busier than usual today. I zipped my two pendant necklaces along their gold chains, fiddling with them as I waited. The patron in front of me placed an order then moved out of the way. It was my turn to order.

“Rose!” the woman behind the counter greeted me. “Hey, girl.”

“Hey, Tara.” I plastered a grin on my face, wearing a facade I’d mastered.

“Sorry about the wait. No Vivi today?" Tara glanced past me toward the door. Her hopeful expression dimmed when I shook my head.

Tara and Vivi had been playing a game of cat and mouse for years; Tara was the cat. I wished they would give it a chance, this thing between them. My helpless heart couldn’t take much more of it.

“Just me today,” I answered. “She’s busy packing.”

“She’s…wait, packing? Does that mean we have to cancel girls night tomorrow?” Her expression dimmed even more.

“Yeah. Long story.” I didn’t want to admit I was relieved about the cancelation of our monthly get together. Vivi said it was good to spend time with our friends. If it weren’t for her, I’d literally have zero. But honestly, it was probably better that way. “There was some family drama with her sister and her fiancé⁠—”

Behind me, an impatient throat cleared. I glanced over my shoulder at a middle-aged woman waiting with her arms crossed. Her eyes were fixed on my hair, her expression turning sour with judgment.

“Sorry,” I muttered—mostly out of reflex. Some of my old scars peeking through.

I turned back to the cute blonde behind the counter. Tara had a short bob, blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her style could mostly be described as retro, anything that ranged from seventies to nineties. She always wore something fun. Today’s dress was a salmon-colored number with bell sleeves and bright flowers. Her black apron was cinched at the waist showing off her curves.

If that wasn’t enough to recommend her, the fact that she co-owned Awake Coffee didn’t hurt. Vivi was an idiot for not locking her down immediately.

Tara chewed on the inside of her cheek. “All right. Well, what can I get you? Dirty chai latte, venti?”

“Yep.” I fished my wallet from my purse.

“And a white chocolate mocha for Vivi?”

“Also venti. Extra shot. Actually, can you make that two?”

“Wow…” Tara’s brows shot up. “All right.”

“She’s got a late night.”

Tara worried her lower lip. “Should I call her?”

“She’ll probably be on a plane by the time you close up here. But you should definitely text her. I think she’d like that.”

“Right. Okay.” Tara gave a soft smile as her fingers flew over the touch screen console, logging my order. “Seven-forty-two,” she said, adding, “family discount.”