Page 20

Truly, this man was quite snippy when he was sleep-deprived. But he nonetheless led Syrus out into the living room and helped him retire on the sofa, where Syrus reclined against one of the arms with ample pillows behind his back.

Luke ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I’ll bring you the last of the salmon, and then I need to go get Colby and take him to day care. I’m going to stock up on fish and a few other things, get some work done.” He frowned at Syrus. “But if you need to get up again…”

“I’ll manage,” Syrus told him. The bathroom wasn’t far. Syrus would crawl if he had to.

“I can turn on the TV for you,” Luke offered.

Syrus brought up the images from the guard’s memories—loud noises and flickering screens and robotic-voiced humans droning on and on about mortal nonsense. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine as I am.”

But Luke didn’t leave. “Can you read as well as you speak?” he asked.

“Reading is a bit more…challenging,” Syrus admitted grudgingly.

Luke rubbed a hand over his trimmed face as he glanced toward the stairs. “I could bring you some of Colby’s books. To get you started.”

He really was worried about Syrus growing bored. There was the familiar sweetness, this inability of Luke’s to let another being suffer, even while he was feeling piqued. Syrus bit back his grin and nodded his acquiescence.

Luke disappeared upstairs once again and returned with a stack of thin books, all brightly colored. He set them on the table next to the couch.

Syrus picked one up obediently, although he didn’t look at it just yet. Instead, he watched Luke, who seemed to be battling some inner demon as he stood there.

Finally, those pretty moss-green eyes narrowed in determination. Luke cleared his throat. “I make furniture for a living, and I have a lot of tools. Sharp and heavy tools. If you do anything to hurt my son, I’ll use them to cut you in half.”

With that, Luke whirled away and left the house.

Syrus grinned happily after him.

Now his handsome human was getting it.

Luke didn’t return to Syrus’s side until the sun was high in the sky. Avoiding Syrus, perhaps? Hoping time away from Luke’s blushes and darting eyes would help that final threat sink in?

As much as he would have enjoyed Luke’s continued presence, Syrus didn’t mind. He’d become more accustomed to boredom than he might have liked, and the books Luke had so sweetly offered had helped. Syrus enjoyed the brightly painted images, the variation in how humans and beasts of the world were depicted by the books’ artists. He could recognize the words too, although it took time for his brain to focus and translate. For whatever reason, printed language didn’t come as naturally to him as spoken words.

Syrus heard noises throughout the day too, signs that Luke was nearby and working. He had another building, perhaps, where he built his furniture with the tools he’d threatened to use to cleave Syrus’s tail from his torso.

Syrus would like to see that. Not the dismemberment so much as Luke, his brow furrowed in concentration, using his capable hands to make beauty out of the land’s resources.

When Luke did return, he had a little creature in his arms, small and bundled, with tufts of wet dark hair peeking out from under his rain hood.

Syrus eyed them both as Luke stood facing him in the entryway to the living room, straight-backed and strong, his arms held protectively around his son. “Syrus, this is Colby,” Luke announced carefully. “Colby, this is Syrus. He’s staying with us for a while, like Dad told you in the car.”

The little hooded creature turned in his father’s arms, and bright eyes—a deep brown as opposed to Luke’s mossy green—zoomed in on Syrus. And then Syrus was gifted with a tiny, adorable smile, full of adorable, equally tiny, blunt teeth.

“Dow!” Colby crowed, and Luke set him carefully on the floor. Colby walked toward Syrus. His movements resembled Syrus’s own, a distinct wobble to his walk that was no doubt much more charming in his small form.

Syrus held his breath as little Colby stepped up to the couch. Without warning, he fisted a lock of Syrus’s hair. “Piddy.”

Luke mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “I knew it.”

Syrus ignored him in favor of studying the spawn he’d already decided to protect. He could see the resemblance, little bits of Luke showing through, especially when Colby’s face turned serious, examining Syrus’s bright strands like they held secret truths.

Similar too, in the trusting way father and son approached dangerous strangers.

“Hello, Colby,” Syrus crooned softly. “I hope you don’t mind me resting on your sofa.”

“Colby needs to take a nap anyway,” Luke told him gruffly as he removed his rain jacket.

“You bring him home to sleep?” Syrus asked. Surely whoever watched little Colby during the mornings could be trusted with an afternoon nap.