Page 59 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

“Thank you,” I murmur, hesitating for only a moment before taking a sip. While I’m aware of Twig’s uncanny ability to manipulate emotions through his essence, I take the risk. If anything, hopefully it will ease my nerves.

“Come, sit. I’ll keep you company,” he suggests, gesturing to a plush chair adjacent to the drinks cart.

“How has he been?” I venture, and Twig immediately knows to whom I’m referring.

“He misses you, Lyra. Physically, he’s fine, but I see the weight he bears. His love for you...is unparalleled. I’ve never witnessed him care for someone the way he does for you,” Twig shares.

It’s painful to hear that. Despite the hurt he caused, guilt and longing intermingle within me. I take another deep sip of the wine, pushing those feelings aside.

I have feelings for Colton, and Nyx shattered any potential future between us. Now isn’t the time to wade into this emotional mess, especially when lives hang in the balance. There are weightier concerns than my personal feelings.

“I thought you’d despise me,” I admit to Twig, casting a tentative glance his way.

His smile broadens, revealing his slightly pointed teeth. “I could never hate you,” he assures me.

Distracting myself, I ask, “And Flora? Have you seen her lately?” The question is both an attempt at casual conversation while we wait and a genuine inquiry. I wonder if she ever mentioned running into me.

“She’s doing well. She was here this morning before she left for the elders’ library,” Twig informs me. I can’t help but wonder about her latest research interests. It seems Flora spends an inordinate amount of time amid those ancient tomes.

Suddenly, Twig slips off his chair and reaches out, grazing my arm with his hand. “I’ll give you some time to gather your thoughts. Once he arrives, I’ll let him know you’re here,” he mentions, probably picking up on the storm of emotions within me. “Help yourself to the drink cart.”

The soft patter of his bare feet fades away.

I down the remainder of my Faery wine and start to look through what the drink cart has to offer. It’s not limited to whiskey; there’s a range of enticing beverages. I opt for something with a sweet edge and pour myself a glass. As the liquid flows, my feet match its rhythm, tracing paths across the dining room floor as I pace. Each passing minute amplifies my anxiety.

Subconsciously, I perform mental checks, ensuring my emotional shields remain intact. Colton might attempt to sense my feelings, and I can’t risk that vulnerability right now.

In the stillness of Nyx’s home, memories flood me, each sharper than the last. The curve of his smile, the weight of his gaze, the touch of his hands—every recollection stirs emotions that I’m struggling to suppress.

Colton. His name emerges as an anchor, grounding me, reminding me why I’m here. Our newfound bond has been healing, a balm for the wounds Nyx left behind. And yet, standing here in his home, I can’t help but question if I’ve truly moved on or if I merely sought refuge in the arms of Nyx’s adversary.

Why does love have to be this complicated? Was it not enough to have my heart broken once, that now I’m teetering on the precipice of risking it again? No, I down my glass and shake my head. I’m not thinking clearly about this. Colton is a good man. He doesn’t lie to me, and I care for him, not to mention the amazing sex. I don’t want to love either of these men. I am not capable of love anymore. My heart cannot bare it.

I remember the pain in Nyx’s eyes the day I told him to leave me be. It was real. Raw. But so was the betrayal, the web of lies he spun around us. Could I ever trust him again? Even if I wanted to? And with the very real risk of hurting Colton in the process? No, I could not.

But now, as I wait in the looming silence, I’m reminded that life isn’t merely about black and white, love and hate. There’s a spectrum of emotions, and right now I’m caught in its whirlwind.

What if seeing Nyx reopens old wounds? What if it doesn’t? What if all it does is confuse me further, muddling the clarity I thought I’d gained over the past few months?

Deep breaths, Lyra.

But the weight of the unknown is paralyzing. What will Nyx say when he sees me? Will he be angry? Relieved? Indifferent? Worse, what if he’s moved on? What if he’s found someone else? Someone who didn’t force him away? I don’t care if he has, but I’m afraid of what seeing Nyx might make me feel, because I don’t want to feel anything for him.

The decanter clinks softly against the drink cart as I set it down after pouring the whiskey. With swift, deliberate movements, I down its contents, the liquid fire blurring the sharp edges of my emotions. Another pour. Another swallow. But the numbness I’m chasing remains out of reach.

The room’s fireplace offers a visual contrast, its warm glow opposing the icy weight settling in my chest. My steps carry me toward it, every footfall echoing the pounding in my head. And then the cold, unforgiving surface of the stone wall greets my back, urging me to slide down to the floor.

My knees press against my chest, my arms wrapping around them, as though trying to hold myself together. Nyx, with all the memories he represents, feels like an uninvited guest in my mind. The last time I was here, the shadows of the past with Aidan were still fresh, casting a dark haze over everything. An unwelcome tear makes its descent, the salty trail a testament to the overwhelming tide of emotions I’m struggling to navigate.

The heavy thrumming of my heart fills my ears. I can’t distinguish if it’s fear, anxiety, or some twisted amalgamation of both. My breaths come fast, the room feeling as if it’s shrinking with each inhalation.

Then a chilling realization strikes. Twig’s timely departure after serving me that drink can’t be a mere coincidence. Could he have manipulated my emotions, intending to clear the fog of my feelings? I look down at my arm where his fingers grazed me. Did he believe that pushing me to confront my deepest fears and pains would pave a path to clarity?

But instead of enlightenment, there’s chaos, an emotional storm I wasn’t prepared to weather. If Twig’s intention was to help, his methods have left me more disoriented, caught in the throes of an unexpected emotional break. All I can hope now is that the storm subsides before Nyx’s return. I bury my face in my knees, close my eyes, and focus on my breathing.

I awaken to the sensation of soft sheets caressing my skin. Instinctively, I stretch out, reaching for Colton, but the space beside me is empty. Panic grips me as my eyes snap open. I’m in Nyx’s bed.

I sit up quickly, scanning the room. My gaze settles on Nyx, seated in a chair nearby, attentively watching me. I take a moment to study his appearance. He looks the same, yet there’s a noticeable weariness about him. His black hair is disheveled, with strands sticking up haphazardly while others fall across his forehead. A coat of stubble covers his jaw, adding to his tired look, and his hand rests thoughtfully against it. His gray eyes glow upon meeting mine, and I suppress the urge to smile.