YOU SPENT THE REST OF THE DAY hiding out in Mithun's room until hunger got too much and the both of you were forced to ransack the kitchen.
With the help of Mith, you found the ingredients for a mushroom stew. You placed them in a black rounded pot before hanging it above the fireplace to cook.
Nico wasn't home. You noticed that when he failed to show his face. Unless he was also hiding out in his bedroom, but you didn't see him as a sit-around-and-do-nothing type.
"Maybe you can set up a rescue here," Mith said whilst you sat by the fire, stirring the stew. He placed himself opposite you on the seater, legs folded underneath him.
You threw him an amused look. "I barely managed to stop you from eating my animals. How am I supposed to fight off a pack of shifters?"
"Hey, I was younger back then. I wouldn't do it now." He rolled his eyes, and you laughed because he was nine and that was still young. "Anyway. If Dad told them no, then I bet they'd be too scared to."
You pursed your lips at that. "Everyone is awfully nervous around him."
You thought of the words he'd uttered to you.
When people disrespect me like that, I hurt them.
A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the dark look in his eye, his low, rumbling voice and the sentence which followed. . .the one you tried very hard not to think about.
So, what is it about you, which makes me want to kiss you breathless instead?
You shook your head, ridding yourself of the memory. The last thing you needed right now was to imagine what it could have been like if you'd chosen to give into the moment instead of holding your ground.
"Mom?"
You hummed in response.
"I said, that's because he's the Enforcer," he informed you, frowning. "You weren't listening, were you?"
"I was!" you protested. Taking the spoon out of the pot, you tapped it against the rim, getting rid of excess moisture before placing it on top of a dish towel by your knees. "You said it's because he's the Enforcer. See? Listening." You pointed to yourself, shifting your body so you were facing him.
He rolled his eyes at you. "Yeah, because I had to repeat it."
"Lies," you gasped playfully.
"Well, according to the pack, you'd know a thing or two about that," he commented drily. You winced. "Sorry," he said after a moment, cringing at his joke. "That sounded funnier in my head."
It had stung, but you knew he meant nothing by it. It wasn't aimed at you but at the shifters accusing you. You waved him off.
"It's fine. It was kinda funny."
The front door opened. You and Mithun were angled in a way which allowed you to see Nico step inside, wearing his usual outfit of linen trousers, his feet protected by what looked like leather sandals. He kicked them off before hovering by the living room archway.
"Hey," he greeted softly, blue eyes flickering between you.
Something pinched at your insides, seeing him so unsure when you were used to him being so confident.
"Hey," you responded, gesturing to the fireplace. "I've got a stew on. You can have some if you like."
"I'd love some." Reassured by your offer, he stepped further into the room, eyes trailing to Mith, who kept his head turned away stubbornly. "If that's okay with you, Mith?"
"It's fine," you answered instead, throwing Mithun a look with your eyes only a mother could pull off. Translation: agree with me or be in big trouble, mister.
Mithun looked as if he wanted to argue, but knew better. "Yeah," he huffed. "It's fine."
"Did you send for Aerilyn?" you questioned, picking the spoon back up and stirring the stew, just to fiddle with something. Suddenly, the room felt too small with him in it.
Nico stopped next to the seater, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Yes. The messenger will be back tomorrow. . .along with Aerilyn, I imagine."
You nodded and took a deep breath. "That's good. Mithun gets to meet her and we can finally get this mess cleared up."
"Right," Nico agreed.
Silence followed.
You busied yourself with stirring dinner.
"Did you pick a room?" Nico questioned finally.
You were thankful for the conversation.
It'd been so awkwardly quiet.
"Not yet," you said. "But there's not enough room for me in Mith's, and it wouldn't feel right taking yours-" especially since you don't even trust me. "-so that leaves me with the spare."
Disappointment flashed across his features and you wondered if he'd wanted you to choose his room. Well, tough luck, mister.
Briefly, you imagined if you had accepted it.
You thought of a scenario where you cuddle up in his bed, surrounded by him, all warm, soft and cosy and buried in his scent. . .maybe he knocked because he forgot something. . .you'd tell him to come in and the blanket would fall down your shoulders as you sit up, revealing the straps of your dainty nighty...
He eyed you hungrily. . .the tension as thick as it was earlier. . .
Maybe one of your straps fell as he approached you, eyes dark and dangerous and you laid back as he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you on all fours. . .
You blinked, forcing yourself out of the fantasy before it went too far.
Gods.
What were you doing, entertaining thoughts like that?
It was safe to say. . .his attraction wasn't one-sided. It hit you hard, the realisation that you had a crush on Mithun's father. A shifter.
Who you were going to be living with. Who also liked you back.
You. You think it's laughable.
When was the last time a man genuinely showed interest in you? The men from your village thought you were dirty. Tainted. Of course, some of them hit on you, but that was only for sex. To them, you weren't someone to wife. You weren't worthy of love. The mistress who got pregnant from a married man. Who was so ashamed she had to hide the baby until she couldn't any longer.
When you broke out of your thoughts, Mithun and Nico were chatting.
You smiled, noticing that Mith didn't appear as agitated as earlier.
Using the spoon, you brought some stew up to your lips and blew on it before testing it. You hummed as the warm liquid hit your taste buds.
"It's done," you told them, about to stand. "I'll fetch some bowls."
"I've got it." Nico stopped you. "Be right back."
--
Mithun headed to bed first. You sat opposite the seater with Nico for a while, making small talk.
It surprised you, how even though he thought you were the liar – then again, he didn't actually say that, did he? Just that he didn't trust his judgement when it came to you – he still flirted as if nothing had changed between you.
"Word has got out about you," he informed you. "That you're half mortal, how you rescued Mith. Probably Rommel. Never could keep his jaw shut to save his life," he muttered. "It should help, though. The pack will be more accepting if they know why you're here and what you've done for us."
"No more strange looks?" That would be nice.
"Now they know what you are to me, no."
What am I to you? The question was on the tip of your tongue, but it was too dangerous of a territory to explore right now. Not with things so uncertain.
Instead, you said, "That's good. And no one will try to eat me?" you were half-joking, because you didn't have the mistletoe to act as a deterrent.
Nico barked a laugh. "Definitely not. You're part of us now. We're not cannibals."
You smiled at the sound of his amusement. "That's strange to think I can heal quickly," you mused. Although you hadn't exactly tried it since your leg. It might have been a one-off? "I don't think my smell is any different, either. Or hearing..."
"Those gifts come from our wolf. You don't have one," he explained, almost sounding sad at the thought.
You didn't share his feelings with that one.
"I can't imagine shifting into one. My bones changing. . .cracking. . ." You felt funny just thinking about it. "Yeah. I'll pass. No offence."
"You've never felt what it's like to be in that form. The freedom. The adrenaline. It's like a drug. Otherworldly," he admitted. "For someone who hasn't experienced it, I don't blame you for being sceptical."
You nodded, not knowing what else to say. Holding back a yawn, you realised it was time for you to get some rest. You'd been so busy talking you didn't realise how heavy your eyes were getting.
"I'm going to hit the hay. It's been a long, exciting day," you said, standing. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Bambi," he responded, softly. You were almost out of the room when he stopped you. "What were you going to say? It's been bugging me."
You glanced at him over your shoulder, hand on the door frame. "When?"
Nico rubbed a hand over his chin. "When you asked if you were an outsider now. You said I didn't lie. And that you couldn't believe this. Then you said, I thought. . . but never finished your sentence." His tone was pained as if remembering it hurt him. "I want to know."
You blinked, surprised he remembered that. You wondered if shifters had good memories, or if it simply bothered him enough to haunt him. "I don't remember." You glanced away.
A sad, amused smile curled his lips. "I thought you weren't a liar?"
You exhaled a frustrated breath.
He wanted to play it like that, did he?
Fine.
You revealed numbly, "I was going to say: I thought you were different from the others. From men who judged me on something I didn't do."
You watched as his face fell, and he swallowed visibly. Nico's eyes went downcast.
A beat passed.
And then he nodded once. "That's. . .fair," he said reluctantly, voice strained. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but snapped it shut again. Nico sighed, rubbing his beard once more. "Thank you for telling me."
You didn't respond and made your way to your bedroom, your shoulders feeling heavier than before.