My heart lodges in my throat. “They don’t, actually. Back home, nobody wanted me to work on them unless I was the only option. It’s why I ended up taking care of magical creatures; somebody had to. And none of them ever asked me for help, I gave it freely because I wanted to. Ilikehelping people, but especially animals. And I’m good at both. Nobody forced my hand.”
My stomach chooses that awkward moment to growl loudly, and I cringe. Eyes closed, Stryker sucks in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling slowly.
“I’m not letting this go, but we can table it for later. After last night, I think we both need a break from heavy topics.” Kissing the top of my head, he steps away to start cooking. “Why don’t you open your gift while you wait for food to be ready?”
“Gift?” I look over the bags he brought, but they all look like ingredients. To be fair, that in itself is an amazing present. “Isn’t you making me breakfast the gift?”
He snorts. “No, that’s me sucking up for inviting myself to move in with you.” With his spatula, he points at the box Havoc left behind. “That one.”
“Seriously?”
Pan sizzling as he adds the butter to melt, he shrugs. “Why not? Maybe it's full of candy.”
I snort. “More likely a severed head.”
“Sounds romantic to me.” He winks over his shoulder. “From what you told me, it sounds like there was a hell of a lot of miscommunication on both sides. Yeah, he could have demanded your number from Arson, but I can also see why he didn’t. If he thought you were giving him the cold shoulder, for either the situation or age gap insecurity, being too overbearing and forcing himself into your life could’ve chased you away for good. And I mean this with all the love in the world, babe, but… you could’ve asked Arson for his number, too. The situation sucks, and I’m not trying to downplay how much he hurt you, but put yourself in his shoes for a minute. He’s trying to apologize for something you both had a hand in, so maybe it’s time to consider wiping the slate clean and start fresh. Give him another chance to either sink or swim.”
For words delivered so carefully, they sit heavily in my chest. Because as much as it pains me to admit it, he’s right. Havoc fucked up, but… so did I. If what he’s claiming is true, he didn’t abandon me. It’s also perfectly understandable that he wanted to keep me out of harm’s way while he cleaned house. If I take a second and look past my hurt, I think what I’ve been stuck on was being left alone in the dark to figure everything out the hard way. The radio silence without having the peace of mind to reassure me that he didn’twantto be away from me, and would come back as soon as it was safe to.
Sending me away hit every one of my childhood traumas that I’ve tried so hard to overcome, and dashed my dreams of a fated mate magically fixing all of my problems in one fell swoop. But a big part of that hurt is on me for putting Havoc up on a pedestal with impossible expectations nobody could live up to, and being mad at him when he fell short.
It’s easy to forget that we’re human when we’re surrounded by magic most people can only dream of.
The paper is wrapped with impressive, mildly obsessive, precision. Every crease is perfect, each fold symmetrical. Hell, I’d wager the money I unintentionally stole from Stryker’s brother chilling in my wallet that every single piece of tape is the same length down to the millimeter, equally spaced. You’d think a military general wrapped the thing instead of someone that runs a guild hall.
I’ve done my research, even if I was annoyed at myself at the time for being obsessed with a man that ghosted me. Guild halls tend to be this weird combination of a tavern and a motorcycle club, blended into something wholly unique. Big on protecting the guild name’s reputation to the point of murder, a family that has each other’s backs even if they don’t particularly like one another. But if someone fucked with a Shadow Knight? Every single member would step up to even the scales. By the same token, if one was killed? The entire guild would step up to take care of any mates or children left behind, no questions asked. The jobs posted aren’t even always murders, though the Shadow Knights specialize in assassinations. Still, they’re under no obligation to take them if they don’t morally agree with the request. They exist firmly in grey territory, but I’d argue they’re more honorable than most men, even if it’s pride driving their actions.
Havoc Knight may be a monster, but he’s one that worse monsters fear.
Sucking in a breath, a little afraid of what I’ll find, I rip off the last of the tape and open the box, only to frown at what’s inside. I don’t know what exactly I was expecting, but it wasn’t… this.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, gently extracting the fragile husk. Embarrassing as it is to admit, it takes me a good five feet before it clicks that I’m not crazy.
“What is it?” Stryker calls, glancing over his shoulder between flipping pans.
“A basilisk skin. Well, a shed one, not skinned. Damn near perfectly intact, too.”
After I’ve finished unfurling all twelve feet of it and gently setting it on the couch, I find an envelope inside the box.
Kiara,
Rome has informed me that my first idea for a gift was inappropriate, so I hope this is more acceptable. Admittedly, I’m not well read in the care of magical creatures, but in my own line of work, I know how valuable a basilisk skin can be in creating antidotes. Hopefully, it’ll be of some use at your clinic. In case I missed the mark, though, I’ve included a few other options that might serve you better.
Anxiously awaiting the day you come home,
-Vic
“Goddamnit,” I murmur, blinking back tears. Thankfully, Stryker gives me the illusion of privacy as I finish diving into the gift. Unicorn blood, hemlock root, mermaid scales; there’s even a phoenix feather. And thoughIgrew up around them, I know how the rest of the world thinks they’re extinct. A single feather would go for afortune,not to mention everything else in this box.
And he gave it to me like it was no big deal. A casual, ‘don’t be mad at me anymore, I got you a present.’ This box would go for half a mil on the black market, minimum.
You can’t buy forgiveness, but maybe, just maybe, you can buy enough time for empathy to strike. Make someone pauselong enough to reevaluate the way they see the world. Remind them that in the grand scheme of things, we’re all just doing the best we can. Sometimes we slip up, but the most important thing is to acknowledge our flaws and try to do better in the future. Make amends to those we’ve hurt when we weren’t being our best selves.
Stryker, bless his soul, sees me mentally spiraling and casually asks, “So. Zayd, was it? He really spoke?”
Shaking off the crippling weight of emotion threatening to drag me under, I force a smile. It takes very little time to become genuine, and I beam proudly, “He sure did. Complete sentences, even.”
Plating up the finished food, he breathes an incredulous laugh. “How the hell did you manage to pull that off? No one has ever rehabilitated a feral shifter before.”
