The Weaver's Source

Chapter 54

I couldn't do it. Even when Grigore came to bring me back to the end, even in the presence of Lillith, I just couldn't ask him why he refused me. I saw his eyes, how firm they were and how angry he was still by the rigidness of his stance, and the words died in my throat.

Lillith gave me an encouraging pat on the back when I left her, wishing me luck as he took me away. I knew she didn't mean just about the dog and its madness. She meant about Grigore. To be honest, I was more scared of Grigore and the argument I'd likely have with him than the dog that was prowling around. I hated fighting with him.

I plodded after Grigore back to the inn, silent and feeling quite shy. Grigore left me be and seemed to be in a world of his own, not noticing how I kept myself a few steps to the side. He constantly rubbed his mouth or scratched his beard, a sure sign he was thinking of something, and by the scowl touching his brow I knew it was something troubling.

As we made our way through the lanes, I gazed at his broad back, pondering deeply to myself at first. The worrying idea of asking that forbidden question slowly died though as I watched him in an almost entranced manner. I noted the long strides he took, the sway of his thick hair, how his cloak snagged at his wide shoulders and the thickness of his arms. I saw his hands, how big they were, how masculine. A bit of me wanting to reach out and hold them. I wanted to touch them. As I gazed sidelong at him, I realised it wasn't just his hands that I had a strange faint urge to touch. I wanted to feel his face and scars. I wanted to feel him holding me.

My thought stopped sharply as Lillith's words echoed in my mind, that Sources and Weavers would almost always be romantically involved. My eyes shot to the floor and my cheeks glowed red. Grigore would never be interested in me in that way. At the moment, I was a nuisance to him and he was only letting me follow so I wouldn't get killed looking for him. Besides, he might have someone he was interested in already, maybe a wife somewhere back north. I wasn't sure why, but convincing myself he would never be interested in me made me slightly sad. It made my heart ache and a sense of loneliness take over. Slowly the embarrassment and worry faded and I was following him with a blue expression.

We both froze when we entered in the square when a howl swept over the town. I turned to look at the sun, noting with relief it was still only early dawn, but found it vanished when I saw Grigore's stern scowl.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"The dog is moving already. You've put yourself in a lot of danger now after that little stunt last night." He replied stiffly and he turned to face me for the first time since he came to get me, his jaw tight.

I flinched a little, not from fear, but from a small surge of warmth that spread though me. When Grigore's eyes met mine, dark, frustrated yet worried, and his deep accented voice brushed my ears, I felt my heart thud awkwardly and my blood roar in my ears. My mind was just fixed on Lillith's words, how he'd been quietly reacting to me all this time. That he was attracted to me. That he dreamt of me and found my song as addictive as I found his. It made me feel nervous around him

"We need to get you inside." He said. I barely heard him speak and didn't react, making him frown and take my hand, completely ignoring my stiff expression and refusal to look at him. "Tonight is going to be interesting." He muttered

I let him drag me to the inn, feeling all sorts of emotions swirl about in my chest. Confusion, embarrassment, worry, nervousness. Grigore was stirring up so much in my head yet he wasn't even doing anything. I found it a little irritating.

Grigore made sure I ate before he took me upstairs, watching me intently when I sat as far from him as I could and didn't try to start a conversation with him. As soon as I was done, he nudged me into the room before lighting the lamp and turned to face me as I settled on the bed, pulling off my boots slowly in almost a daze. Too many thoughts were whirling about my head; what the dog would do next, why Grigore didn't accept and how I was going to talk about it, that he was attracted to me. It was a bit much.