Into the Tiger's Hour

Chapter Four

The doorway to the forge was open, spilling heat throughout the entire basement. Although Ax's forge only occupied a small fraction of the basement's space, it was intolerable to be downstairs for long when he had been working on a project.

Now it was only the comforting heat of the glowing forge, and Iris was relieved to step into it after the climate-controlled chill of the elevator. The frame felt sticky in her hand and she shifted it to the other, wiping her palm on her jeans as she crossed the dark room to the open door. Ax's shadow moved across the doorway, and Iris picked up her pace.

"Ax? You got a minute?"

His shoulders filled the doorway when he stopped and moved forward to look out. His name was Joshua Ogniali, but she'd never bothered to call him that. Ax was his 'secret' name, just as Betre was for the demon upstairs, and it seemed to suit him best. A smile immediately dawned when he saw her, and he stepped back, clearing the doorway for her to walk into the forge. "What are you doing down here, sweetheart? It's close to bed time."

Everything about Ax's presence steadied Iris's nerves. Everyone enjoyed his company, but he was shy, self-effacing and bashful, so it was rare to see him acting openly and naturally. Iris took it as a matter of course that she was one of the few that he was comfortable around, and when she stepped into the forge, she tiptoed to kiss his rough cheek.

His hand touched her arm, helping her balance, and the heat from his skin warmed her through as Iris moved to the stool he'd placed for her years ago. "I know, but I needed to ask you something before bed."

Ax glanced at her, stone grey eyes immediately concerned, and returned to the draft table against the wall, rolling up several sketches. "About what, sweetheart?"

She watched his large hands move quickly, nimbly and wondered that such a large man could create such delicate things. The chain around her neck that held the crystal teardrop was of his make, as was all of her jewelry. The grille for her fireplace, a masterpiece of steel roses and curling vines, was another of his creations. There was nothing Ax couldn't do with fire and metal.

...metal.

Iris looked down at the frame and frowned, rubbing at the tarnish with her thumb before she held it out. "Did you make this?"

He was slow in turning towards her, hands still occupied with gathering his pencils and putting them neatly in the tray at the top of the table. But when Ax did face her, his gaze dropping to the frame she was offering, Iris saw immediately that he knew exactly what she was holding.

The demon made no attempt to take it from her. Point in fact, Ax backed up a step as if he was afraid of it. A hilarious thought--he was over six and a half feet tall and weighed more than Iris could guess, had muscles so well-developed that Briar had used him as a model dozens of times and was a demon to boot. There was nothing to be afraid of, but Ax was pale beneath the flush that the forge's heat brought to his skin and his eyes were wide.

"...Ax?" Iris slipped off of the stool and approached, holding the frame out. "Did you make this?"

His throat worked. Wisps of dark gold hair fell from the topknot and stuck to his sweat-coated shoulders, trembling filaments that caught the forge's light and flamed brightly. Iris had seen people unable to speak in Ax's presence, so busy gaping at him that they couldn't manage words. She'd seen him, bound by shyness, avoid saying anything at all. But she had never seen him react like this, and he had been the one who had jumped between her and a timber rattler when they'd gone hiking in the National Forest two years ago.

Ax's mouth thinned, but he finally stopped retreating. Even took a step forward and reached for the frame, plucked it from Iris's hand and turned it over to gaze down at the sketch. She watched intently and was, somehow, not surprised to see the rigid, fearful look on his face melt into an expression of profound tenderness. Even awe.