Page 50 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

My mind went to him. Had he gotten back late? Was he still sleeping? I wasn’t exactly quiet while I loaded and began the dishwasher. Perhaps I should have been, postponing the inevitable confrontation that was coming. The thought of facing him after what had happened last night left my cheeks burning.

Perhaps the best thing to do was pretend it hadn’t happened.

I crept upstairs, pausing to listen on the landing. At his door, I gave it a quiet tapping knock. “Bastian?” I called. No response. I tried again, but still nothing.

I tried the knob—unlocked. I opened the door, cautious. He’d told me to stay out of his room, so I wouldn’t walk in, but I did peek my head in, bracing myself. My gaze feasted on the space that was so obviously him. The room was set up like a suite, with a small sofa arrangement near the window, and a bed framed by two nightstands. An acoustic guitar stood on a stand in the corner next to a small chair. He played? I pictured him sitting there, shirtless, tattoos and piercings on full display, strumming. He used those same expert fingers that had worked on me last night. The muscles low in my belly tightened, heat spreading to the apex of my thighs.

My eyes darted to the bed, still made. Bastian hadn’t come home last night. That flaring heat turned ice cold. I closed the door and darted upstairs, just to be sure. The game room was empty. What about the gym downstairs? Perhaps he liked working out early? It was empty too.

“Fuck,” I hissed, striding to my room. I grabbed my phone and opened the texting app, then stopped. It was only 10:30am. I didn’t want to seem… What? Worried? Desperate? Clingy?

He was a grown man, after all. A grown goblin.

A darker, nagging thought seeped into my mind. He had never told me what his plans were, just that he had something that required his attention. An appointment of some sort. What kind of an appointment? The date kind? What if he’d stayed out with another woman?

A sickening sensation burrowed into my stomach.

No, that was ridiculous. He might give off bad boy vibes, but he didn’t strike me as the type to shove his fingers in me, then go find another woman afterward. That meant that something else had kept him away.

From the kitchen, the coffee maker beeped. I decided to let it rest for a few minutes. I’d have my shower first. Then, if I didn’t hear from him soon, I’d go have my coffee and text him.

When I made my way back into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of leggings and wide-necked shirt that hung off my shoulder, I still hadn’t heard anything.

Don’t panic. It’s too early to panic, I said, coaching myself through it. He’s allowed to stay out all night and doesn’t owe you answers or explanations.

Calmly, I poured myself a cup of coffee, added some sugar and cream, then sat down at the island. I took a long sip, sighed, and smiled. It was so yummy. I took another sip, willing myself to be calm. But… I couldn’t do it. I caved.

Where are you? Is everything okay?

I pressed send before I could cringe at how clingy it sounded.

I was halfway through my cup of coffee when my phone sounded. I exhaled at the sight of the bubble notification with Bastian’s name and opened the text.

Bastian

I’m fine, sugar. Seen the news yet?

I jumped to my feet. An ache formed in the back of my throat as I sprinted into the living room. I hesitated in the doorway, then walked in.

Meow—

“Jesus, Teddy!” I cried, jumping backwards. I put a calming hand to my chest, then exhaled, looking down at him. “Did you have your breakfast?” I asked. He had an automatic machine type feeder that kept his food and water bowls full with a sensor. He’d never been an over-eater so Peter hadn’t worried too much. Teddy meowed again, blue eyes tracking my movements.

I found the remote and turned on the television, searching through the channels until I landed on one of the news stations. “…authorities are still searching for the suspects, but several faces have been identified and rendered, believed to be responsible for the attacks that left twelve dead and four in critical condition.” Sketches appeared on the screen. “This was an exclusive dinner, with strict rules and an even stricter invite list. No photos have surfaced, as cell phones were prohibited. Some speculate the culprits infiltrated the mayoral dinner under false identities. The guest list is under scrutiny. The mayor’s security team is facing heat for the incident. We spoke with witnesses in attendance, including Marsh Thadur.”

An interview clip flashed onto the screen. The name was vaguely familiar, and it took a moment before I realized it was one of the names Aramis had mentioned the night before.

“There is no excuse for what happened tonight,” Thadur said, his tone grave. I blinked, my eyes focusing on the face. Even though I was seeing him through a screen, his glamor wavered. His human face morphed—pointed ears and angular fae features.

So. He was fae.

“It is imperative that we keep our city safe. The events of tonight are a prime example of the growing crime throughout Walton. We should be putting more money into the police force, greater scrutiny into those hired to serve. We lost some good people tonight. I, for one, question the mayor’s security team. Those criminals shouldn’t have gotten in here.”

The clip vanished, flipping back to the newscaster.

I didn’t hear the rest. Instead, I sank onto the couch, picking up Teddy and plopping him into my lap. My hand stroked him absentmindedly as I watched the footage, most of it replaying over and over again. I had a feeling if I changed to other local news stations, they’d be playing much the same thing.

My phone chirped. I looked down at the screen. Bastian Croft. His name lit up in a bubble, showing a preview of his text. I sighed, turning off the television, removing Teddy from my lap, and padded back into the kitchen. I needed more coffee to process whatever he said.