“Gray,” I said, choosing to ignore his last jab at me. “We can do this, can’t we?”
He lifted a hand and cupped my face. Against my better judgement, I leaned into his touch. This was what I needed, the comfort that came with being with him.
“I promise you, Quentin, that I will put everything on the line to make sure that you and I get to see an eternity together.”
Part of me hoped that with the house empty and a plan in place, Quentin would be willing to talk. But she skirted around the house, watching me from a careful distance and trying to control the chaos that was brewing inside of her.
It felt right to sense her again. There was a signature undercurrent of chaos that Quen possessed and it spoke to me at such a level that I should have known she was my bound long before I ever found out.
I wanted to force her to talk. Take up all of her space until she had no other option but to forgive me. But if I did that, and she didn’t straighten her thoughts in time for our meeting with Hunter, I ran the risk of losing her in some way, and that was enough to keep me silent. Instead, I satisfied myself by begrudgingly stalking her whenever she was close enough. It pleased me how she still moved with ease throughout our home. How it responded to her by turning handles and surfaces gold. She was still mine, whether or not she was ready to admit it.
Pulling gloves on, I sat in the kitchen and began to prepare the oleander. Quen took the seat opposite me. Her eyes focusedon the flowers as I slowly destroyed them. She yawned, barely hiding it behind her hand.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” I suggested, pausing my work momentarily.
“I don’t think—” She yawned again. “—that I’ll be able to sleep.”
I placed the flower in the bowl in front of me and looked up at her. “You must be exhausted with everything that’s happened over the last few days.”
“If I’m honest, I don’t really know how I feel.”
“Hmm. You always have struggled to articulate your feelings if it’s anything other than anger.”
She tossed a full biscuit at my head. It smacked me between the eyes before dropping onto the table. Quen’s lips trembled as she tried to suppress a laugh. Her beauty was unmatched; sitting with her legs crossed on the chair, a large mug of coffee in front of her, and glowing gold from the prayers she was being offered. Her ring finger was bare sparking hope in my chest. If I were a painter, I would have captured her likeness so as to never forget it.
“Hilarious. I’ll have you know that custard creams are now banned from our household.”
“You can’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because you deserved it.”
We lapsed into silence again and I picked up the flower to work, but it was useless. I could sense her rising anxiety.
“What is it that’s bothering you, golden girl?”
“Apart from the fact your brother is a psychopath and plunged us into war over my existence?”
“He takes control freak to a whole new level,” I mused with a hum. “But yes, aside from that, what is on your mind?”
“I’m worried about Cass and Sophie.” A beat of silence and then, “And James and Charlie. Gareth. I didn’t even get to see Sal.”
“Quentin, are you telling me you are worried about every mortal on Earth?”
“Not all of them. Just the ones I’m close to.”
“Why are you worried about them?”
“There’s so much that’s going wrong down there. I want them to be safe, Gray.”
“They will be.”
“I want to be able to see them again. To go to Charlie’s wedding. To spend time with my family.”
“You’re homesick,” I said, finally pinpointing the issue behind her anxiety.
She dropped her gaze to the table. “I don’t know if I would call it that. Y… This is my home.”
