The Weaver's Source

Part Five: Chapter 61

"Distracted again?" Grigore asked deeply, making me flinch out of my thoughts to find myself rooted to the spot and him towering over me.

I looked up at him sharply, my eyes vibrantly pink and feeling nervous around him and a little exposed. Suddenly I felt terrible I had been sensitive to his feelings for so long. It felt like I'd been crossing a line into something I shouldn't.

Grigore narrowed his eyes and glanced down at the book.

"What did you read?" He asked curiously.

I knew I had to answer him. I had always done so before as he seemed to have as much interest in what Lillith had to say about Sources as I did, and I was a terrible liar. I flailed for words for a moment, my tongue darting to my lower lip nervously before I finally answered him.

"Do you feel anything in me?"

Grigore shifted his weight at the question, frowning softly. "What do you mean?"

"Emotions. I feel yours sometimes, when you're particularly angry or frustrated." I stammered, anxious admitting this to him. He never did like the way my magic got into his head. "Lillith says you should feel the same about me."

"I do." He said bluntly and with so little hesitation that my heart pumped wildly in panic.

I gazed at him, my eyes glowing now as mortification hit me, which only grew worse when his expression darkened with amusement and he began to smile.

"You do?"

"Yes." He repeated firmly, his voice lowering in depth, making his accent almost purr. "Mostly I feel it when you're anxious, scared or happy." His fingers grasped my chin firmly and he ducked his head, holding me perfectly still as his mouth hovered over mine. My body grew hot rapidly, made worse by the soft call of his song that swept through me, stirring up my magic into a pleasurable swarm of butterflies that hurried to my mouth, heating my lips and encouraging them to part softly. "But it's clear as day when you're flustered." He growled thickly.

He let me go roughly, turning to continue off down the road, fully aware of how he'd stirred me up by the amusement I felt emanating from him. I snapped the book shut and hurried after him, embarrassment now fuelling my determination to know exactly how much he'd been feeling from me.

"How long?"

"A little after the crooked house." He replied without stopping. My heart quickened as I gazed at the road, thick with self-consciousness. Just how much had he felt over the last two months? Did he know how much I loved holding his hand or being close to him? What I thought of him or how I reacted?

I stiffened when I bumped into him and found his arm snaking about my waist, pulling me into his frame slightly, surprised at the sudden physical contact. I glanced up at him nervously as he watched me, his gaze full of curiosity once again. He often looked at me like that these days, as if I was fascinating him somehow. I was suddenly understanding why. Of course he'd be curious about me when he felt random spikes of my emotions.

"I don't know why you're so upset, Lyra. Your eyes give away much more than your magic." He murmured. "I know what you're feeling most of the time, regardless of whether I feel it or not."

I blushed softly, surprise filling me. Anyone could read the colours of eyes but only if they put the effort in to learn. It meant they cared, noticing my shifts in moods and the changes of my eyes, matching it up slowly. It meant a lot to me when someone learned. I gazed at him as warmth swelled, pushing aside my shyness roughly.

"You know my eye colours?"

He furrowed his brow. "Of course I do."

I smiled at him, my eyes shining gold at his confused admission. Grigore paid enough attention to my eyes to learn them and he'd done it by himself, not once asking me questions about it.