He owed Pyxlevir an apology. A heartfelt and truthful one. But what Pyxlevir deserved most was to decide their future. So, Gramlithyn would take his cues from Pyxlevir. It’d be up to Pyxlevir to dictate how much Gramlithyn divulged and when. However, if they stood in a room together someday, ready to drop their blood into a bowl to separate completely, Gramlithyn would ensure Pyxlevir understood how sorry he was for his choices and whatever hurt he’d caused.
It was far less than Pyxlevir deserved, but it was all Gramlithyn had left to offer.
∞∞∞
Although Gramlithyn had been poised to rush into convincing Pyxlevir and their friends to move in together, he’d needed a day for his nerves to settle. His parents phoned daily in their effort to reconnect. However, it remained difficult to talk to them, so Gramlithyn didn’t answer. He’d hurt everyone in his haste and childishness. How could he explain to his folks that he’d defiedthousands of years of tradition because he’d wanted Pyxlevir to love him as a mate and not a friend?
It was too soon to have that conversation with them anyway. If they knew the truth, his mother would march up to the Centaurus-Valzadari mansion and demand a ceremony immediately. Gramlithyn would not allow Pyxlevir to be forced into anything. Not for his mother or any custom.
His lack of response to his parents hadn’t dimmed their enthusiasm for his return. To Gramlithyn’s shock, they’d dumped money into his account to ensure he and Dasan had whatever they needed. Since Gramlithyn was focused solely on his living arrangements, their generosity was welcome, but he needed to figure out how to earn his own income soon. It didn’t sit comfortably to rely upon his parents, which was why he’d gone six years without asking for a dime and routinely sending back anything they gave him. They had to be ashamed of him, but they offered no words of rebuke. His parents were wonderful and must be unbelievably disappointed in their only child.
“Are we going over to meet these gargoyles or what?” Dasan demanded as he fluttered around their hotel room, tidying his few belongings. Whether it was his relentless desire to move constantly or an innate dislike for clutter, Dasan kept everything neat as a pin. It made living with him easy, and Gramlithyn had done so for years now.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m nervous.”
“I can’t believe you won’t tell me what’s going on. You’ve been acting weird as shit since the moment we got to Vegas.”
“I know, I promise I’ll explain everything once we get to Colby and Crispin’s place.”
“Okay, are you ready, or do you need a few more minutes?” Dasan asked. “You look nervous as fuck.”
“That’s because I am. But delaying this shit isn’t going to make things easier.”
Without another word, Gramlithyn and Dasan headed out of their hotel room and went down to the Dérive station. The druid Gramlithyn had arranged was already waiting for them, and they were teleported to another druid-owned spot close to the mansion the Hawthorne-Stone family called home. Gramlithyn eventually led Dasan to the front door of the lovely house.
After taking a deep breath, Gramlithyn rang the bell. The door opened to reveal Colburn and Crispin’s father.
“Gramlithyn, it’s a been a long time,” the ruler of the gargoyles remarked, his pale green gaze unreadable. In his youth, Gramlithyn had spent countless hours beneath Hunter’s roof and had loved every minute. “Who is your friend?”
“Watchman, this is my friend Dasan Calypte. He’s new to the Council and has become an honorary Verdanyth thanks to my parents. Dasan, this is the ruler of the Royal Order of the Gargoyles, Watchman Hunter Hawthorne-Stone.”
“Great to meet you, Watchman,” Dasan said, thrusting his arm out enthusiastically.
“The pleasure is mine,” Hunter replied. “Pyxlevir tells me you’re Gramlithyn’s best friend, but he was unsure what kind of shifter you are.”
“I’m a hummingbird, Watchman.”
“An Anna’s Hummingbird,” Gramlithyn added, aiming to be as helpful as possible while his palms grew sweaty. If he had nerves in his own hotel room, they were nothing compared to his growing anxiety here. What would he do if his plan fell through and Colburn and Crispin refused to go along with it?
“The twins are in their room with Pyxlevir,” Hunter stated. “You can head straight there, but I hope you’ll introduce Dasan to everyone before you leave.”
“Of course I will, Watchman,” Gramlithyn vowed, though he hadn’t counted on spending a minute longer than necessaryin the house. If his last interaction with Pyxlevir was any indication, he’d need to lie face-first on his mattress as soon as he was done running his mouth. At least if they lived together, Gramlithyn could escape to his bedroom to gather his courage after every awkward encounter.
Gramlithyn and Dasan followed Hunter through the eerily silent home.
“Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen,” Hunter said as they arrived at the twins’ room where Gramlithyn had enjoyed countless slumber parties in his youth. The gargoyle stalked off, and Gramlithyn knocked.
The door opened to reveal a stone-faced Colburn. He was taller and broader than the last time Gramlithyn saw him, but it was normal for gargoyles to have an adult growth spurt. His normally vivacious yellow-green eyes were flat.
“Hey,” Gramlithyn offered. “This is Dasan. Dasan Calypte, this is Colburn Hawthorne-Stone.”
Once again, Dasan offered an eager handshake, and Colburn cracked a smile at the hummingbird.
“Come in,” Colburn invited. “You met Pyx yesterday. The other guy here is my twin, Crispin.”
“Great to meet you,” Dasan enthused. Crispin’s gaze widened as his arm was pumped fervently. “Hi, Pyxlevir. No handshakes for elves. I remembered that. I’m trying to learn all this Council stuff. Gram’s parents sent a book to the hotel with the rules and stuff. So glad I read the shit on gargoyles because your dad nearly made me shit myself. It’s going to take me forever to get through the book though because I’m not the best reader on the planet.”
“That’s because you can’t sit still. I keep telling you, walk with the book in your hands,” Gramlithyn said.
