Текст книги "Berries and Greed"

Автор книги: Lily Mayne

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Chapter Thirty

Beryl

Greid ended up working until gone 10 p.m., and when he finally emerged from his workshop and shuffled into the living room, he looked so tired that I knew we wouldn’t be having any more intense discussions today.

I heated up the dinner I’d ordered for him—I’d actually gotten a bit worried when he didn’t even emerge for food at any point—and curled up beside him as he started wolfing down the enormous portion of lasagne.

“Did you manage to get it finished?” I asked him, firing up Gloom Falls on the TV.

“All the metalwork, yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “My vision’s gone blurry from those fucking goggles.”

I squeezed his thigh in sympathy, then sat back to let him eat in peace. When he finished, he reached for his smoking tin and started rolling a joint, then froze.

“Oh, wait.” His tired eyes darted to me. “Did you, um, want to talk about—”

“Not tonight.” I grabbed another blanket and tucked it over his lap. “You’re tired. There’s no rush.”

“Yeah, I… guess not,” he said in a hoarse voice, which made my mouth twitch as I glanced at him.

But a minute later, he was relaxing back into the couch as he took deep drags of his joint, exhaling each one with a sated sigh. He slumped down further, and further, until his head tipped onto my shoulder.

My chest squeezed tight. Pressing a kiss to his hair, I squeezed my arm behind him so I could play with the long strands. After finishing his joint, he snuggled into me deeper, and eventually ended up with his head in my lap and his long limbs curled up under the blankets.

I sensed it the moment he fell asleep, his head becoming a little heavier as he stopped watching the TV, his body going completely loose. I continued playing with his hair as I grabbed the remote and put on an episode of Our Neighbours the Humans that we’d already watched, because I didn’t want to keep watching Gloom Falls without him.

I wasn’t at all tired yet, seeing as I’d spent the day lazing around doing nothing. My legs were starting to ache, but I didn’t want to move, especially when Greid shifted in his sleep, a long arm curling around my leg as if he wanted to hug it to him.

Fierce, possessive longing rose inside me. He was so sweet. Kind and affectionate and generous. I genuinely could not understand how Agma hadn’t been able to appreciate him—all of him. But at the same time, I knew that people were wired differently. What worked for one didn’t work for another.

I thought Greid and I would work well. So well.

We were already so close, despite the relatively short time we’d known each other. But living together didn’t leave much room for mystery, and besides, I liked that he knew me better than anyone bar my aunt. It was still a novelty for me to be able to just be myself, to not always have to watch my words or make sure I was acting a certain way around others. Greid just accepted me and didn’t expect anything more. I’d never had that before.

Something about his submissive nature called to me, made me want to give him anything he wanted, fulfil all his desires. But not just in a sexual way. I wanted to look after him in all the ways I could. I wanted to make him happy.

I was already starting to feel the urge to go out and explore the city more, maybe go to a bar, not the one I worked at, for some drinks, or out to dinner. But I would never force Greid to go with me. I could make other friends for that. And I didn’t want to do it often, I just wanted to experience it all. But I knew that this—staying in with him, just being together in the quiet, lounging around in our comfortable PJs—would be what I craved most nights. It already was.

Greid’s leg kicked out from under the blanket, his socked foot twitching rapidly. I suppressed a chuckle and went still when he started squirming, but he just shifted around onto his other side and settled again with a long exhale, burying his face in my belly.

I kept my fingers in his hair, lazily sifting through the strands, and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I felt him stir. My eyes were drooping, legs stiff from staying in the same position for so long. But I smiled down at him when he snorted and blearily lifted his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Shit, sorry,” he croaked, scrubbing his face as he sat up and yawned. His jaw cracked open wide, showing me all his back teeth.

“It’s okay.” I reached up and pushed back the strands of hair caught on his face spikes. He turned his cheek into my palm, yellow eyes drooping shut again. “Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Yeah.” He swung his legs off the couch and stopped again, swaying a little. I knew that kind of exhaustion, where every tiny movement felt like it expended all your energy. I remembered it from long, backbreaking days working on the vineyards.

Greid yawned again and rubbed his eye with a fist, and god, I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to take care of him.

But I couldn’t invite myself into his bed, even just to sleep. I really, really wanted to spoon myself against Greid’s back all night and feel the warmth of him soaking into my skin, but he probably wasn’t ready for that. I hadn’t even seen his room.

Pushing off all the blankets, I stood and stretched, then held out a hand to help him up.

“I’ll blow out all the candles and lock up,” I told him. “You go to bed.”

“’Kay,” he mumbled, already shuffling for the door. He must have been really tired. He usually rushed to do everything before I could. But then he stopped and fidgeted. “Night, Beryl.”

“Goodnight, Greid.”

He still didn’t move, shyness creeping into his face, so I walked over to him. The moment I was in reach, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I sighed with pleasure, melting into him.

“Your hair always smells so good,” he mumbled, sounding half asleep as he sagged and dipped his head to press his lips and nose to the crown of my head.

I chuckled. “Thanks.”

After a few more seconds, I felt him drop a kiss in my hair before he released me and stepped back. “Night, berry.”

My mouth twitched. “Berry?”

“Beryl. Sorry. Slipped out.” His ears gave a weak flutter, but he was too tired to be embarrassed. I watched as he turned and dragged his feet across the hall into his own room, and once the door had shut behind him, I went around blowing out all the candles before turning off the TV.

After taking all the empty containers and silverware from dinner into the kitchen, I returned to the living room to straighten up the couch and fold the endless supply of blankets Greid kept draped over the cushions.

The sweet scent of shade smoke still clung to one as I lifted it and shook it out. I clutched it for a few seconds, then turned and took it up to bed with me.

I woke up early the next morning, blessedly cramp-free and drooling onto the blanket I’d slept with. After showering, I got dressed in my black work clothes and gathered up the blanket with the rest of my dirty clothes to do some laundry before I left.

I made sure to creep quietly downstairs and into the kitchen, not wanting to wake Greid. Once the washing machine was whirring away in the laundry room, I made coffee and ate a yoghurt while waiting for it to brew.

I felt a little restless. The prospect of my potential conversation with Greid later—assuming he felt up for it—was making the rest of the day stretch out endlessly. I glanced at the clock on the oven display. Only eight-thirty. I still had two hours before I had to be at work to get the bar ready for the brunch rush at eleven.

I could go and work out, but I’d already showered and couldn’t be bothered to do it again. Wandering back over to the fridge, I tugged it open and stared at the contents. I’d found a recipe for chicken stew I wanted to try making, because it didn’t seem too daunting, it just required some chopping and throwing everything into a slow cooker.

Maybe I could make it for our dinner later. I’d been wanting to learn how to cook more, and this felt like a good way to learn as well as pass the time before work.

Did Greid have a slow cooker? I went around the kitchen quietly opening cabinets, finding a rice cooker and stand mixer that both looked barely used. Could I just put it in the oven at a low temperature? I didn’t really want to deviate from the recipe when I knew literally nothing about cooking.

Maybe he had one in his “Room of Shame”. We’d gone through about a quarter of the boxes last weekend and made a pile of things to donate. It had taken way longer than it should have, because Greid tended to get distracted while going through the stuff, studying each item carefully, most of the time telling me he couldn’t even remember buying them, and enthusiastically saying he actually wanted to use some of it. He’d snuck several boxes down to his room. I’d pretended not to notice.

Creeping back into the hall, I went upstairs to the third floor and into the room. I’d ended up trying to organise the remaining boxes while Greid had fiddled and played with each item he unpacked, so at least the mountain was slightly more organised this time.

God, some of this stuff was ridiculous. A hat with sunglasses built in. Gardening shears with a cup attached so you could enjoy a beverage while trimming hedges. I knew for a fact that Greid didn’t trim his hedges.

After about ten minutes of searching, I finally found a slow cooker. At first, it looked pretty normal—nothing weird attached to it and no obvious wild claims on the box. Then I noticed it came with an attachment that turned it into a juicer. For hot juice. Who the hell enjoyed hot juice?

Carrying it downstairs, I washed out the removable ceramic bowl and pulled out my phone to bring up the recipe. A quick scan of the freezer and terribly neglected vegetable crisper in the fridge revealed that we did actually have most of the ingredients. The carrots were a little floppy, but still orange. They’d be fine, right?

I started chopping vegetables as the package of chicken defrosted in the microwave. The repetitive task was kind of soothing, the house quiet except for the very faint snores I could hear coming from Greid’s room down the hall.

By the time everything was in the slow cooker and I’d washed up the knife and chopping board, I had just enough time to grab another coffee from Deep Brew before starting work. But after tugging on my coat by the front door, I doubled back to the kitchen and found a piece of paper and a pen in the junk drawer.

Not ready to eat yet! I wrote, because I knew that Greid would zero in on a pot of cooking food like a bloodhound the moment he woke up. DO NOT EAT RAW CHICKEN, GREID.

With a smile, I left it in front of the slow cooker and turned to leave for work. The day was crisp and cool as I stepped outside, the sun hazy and bright in a pale blue sky as autumn melted into winter. As I waved at the two old demiurgus on their front stoop, my gut fizzed with excitement at the thought of getting to see Christmas in the city. Did demiurgus celebrate it? Would everyone on the street put up twinkling lights and decorate their windows and front steps?

I was working with Gavin and a quiet, no-nonsense demiurgus called Kayr for the brunch shift. Kayr didn’t talk much—he wasn’t rude, he was just painstakingly efficient and refused to stand idle when there was a lull between customers. I made an effort to help him take all the glasses off the shelves to give them a thorough clean, but I could tell that I was just getting in his way and he’d prefer to do it himself. In the end, I went and stood with Gavin once the brunch rush died down, and we chatted casually between customers.

I liked Gavin, but it always made me a little nervous to talk to him, because there was a lot of stuff—regular human stuff—that I should’ve known about. Like going to high school, football games, some big human hedge fund investor who’d recently been exposed for tax evasion.

I managed to navigate the conversations fairly well with vague answers about my childhood—“I grew up way out in the country, in a tiny little town”—and by confidently saying I wasn’t interested in sports or celebrity gossip, the latter of which was a big, fat lie.

My shift passed painfully slowly, and when I finally got out, I saw I’d had a text from Greid a few hours ago. Several texts, in fact.

what are you making?? he’d sent. A minute later, he’d followed it with, it smells really good. It woke me up

why can’t I eat it now???

The chicken can’t be THAT raw can it?

how long does it need to be in there before I can eat it?

I snorted, typing out a quick message. It’s for dinner! Can’t eat it yet.

He didn’t reply, so I shoved my phone back in my coat pocket and made my way to Deep Brew to get Greid a coffee. When I got home, the house was completely quiet, so I figured Greid was working. After shedding my coat and boots, I made my way upstairs to deliver his drink.

“Greid?” I knocked on the workshop door, hearing silence behind it. “I got you coffee.”

There was no reply. Cracking open the door, I peeked in and saw it was empty. I checked the Room of Shame before making my way back downstairs. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. Knocking softly on his bedroom door, I called, “Greid?”

No answer. Frowning, I stepped back and looked around. His car had been parked out front, but I supposed he could’ve walked somewhere or got the subway. He hadn’t mentioned going out today though, and I knew Greid left the house as little as possible.

Then I noticed the door to the basement was partially open and the light was on down there. Was he working out? It would’ve been the first time since I moved in.

I didn’t want to just barge in on him in case he got self-conscious, so I pulled open the door a little more and called down, “Greid? I got you coffee. I’ll leave it in the kitchen.”

Nothing. I could hear that the TV wasn’t on, and there was no whirring of equipment or pounding feet on the treadmill. He didn’t even answer me, which was a little weird. Maybe he had headphones in. Or the E-B-Phones, I thought as my mouth twitched. Although, they didn’t really seem safe to use while exercising. Or literally ever.

I retreated to the kitchen, setting his coffee down before checking on my stew. Greid had been right—it did smell really good already. My mouth stretched into a proud grin as I gave it a stir, pleased to see the gravy thickening as the recipe had promised, and clamped the lid back on.

I went upstairs to change my pad and swap my work clothes for something comfier. When I got back downstairs and shuffled into the living room in my slippers, there was still no noise coming from the basement. Frowning a little, I pulled out my phone and typed out a text.

Are you okay? Where are you??

I heard Greid’s phone ding in his bedroom. Crossing the hall, I knocked on his door again. “Greid, you okay?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe he’d gone back to sleep. But then why was the basement light on?

I stood there for a few seconds before heading for the basement door. I was pretty sure he wasn’t down there—it felt empty—but now I was curious. Descending the staircase, I shivered as the air grew cooler. Greid wasn’t there. The TV was off and all the machines stood still and lifeless.

He must have been asleep then. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have left the house without his phone. Just as I turned to go back upstairs, something caught my eye.

Right at the back of the basement, past the gym equipment, was another door that was partially open. I cocked my head as I stared at it. Huh. I’d never noticed that before, but then, it was the same colour as the walls, and there were random objects either side of it—a few cardboard boxes, a bedframe tipped on its side and a dresser. I wondered if it had all been cleared out of the room upstairs for Agma’s studio.

It looked dark beyond the open door, but… this had to be where Greid was, right? What was he doing in there?

I hovered for a few seconds, wondering whether I should just leave him to whatever he was up to. In the end, curiosity drove me forward. If it was, like, his secret masturbation room or something, I’d back away and pretend I’d never seen anything.

Approaching the door quietly, I reached out to grasp it and pull it open a little more. I was nervous, for some reason, and felt just a touch guilty. But… surely he wasn’t doing anything nefarious in there? It was Greid. He was just a big, lanky teddy bear. It was more likely to be a secret eating room or something. Or maybe a second Room of Shame.

It was too dark for me to see anything, so I pulled the door open wider to let the light from the gym flood in. I blinked when I saw the staircase spiralling down directly beyond the threshold. Leaning in just a little, I peered down. It seemed to go on forever, descending into total darkness.

What the hell? I licked my lips nervously and called out, “Greid? Are you… okay?”

I thought I could hear a faint thumping sound down there. Oh god, maybe it was a secret masturbation room. Just as I started backing hurriedly away from the door, I heard another one open far below and the thud of footsteps racing up the stairs.

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Chapter Thirty-One

Greid

“I wasn’t doing anything weird,” I blurted the moment I reached the top of the staircase and saw Beryl standing there with wary eyes.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, backing away. “I was just worried about—I just wondered where you were. I’ll leave you to it. No worries.”

“No, wait, Beryl.” My ears went wild as she stopped and eyed me, blunt white teeth nibbling on her lower lip. “I swear it’s not anything weird.”

I was pretty sure the more I said that, the weirder she’d think it was. She shook her head, backing away again.

“Seriously, Greid, you don’t have to explain anything. It’s your house. As long as you’re okay, I’ll just go, uh, watch TV.” She paused, freckled cheeks growing pink. “Your, uh, your sweater’s on inside out, by the way. And back to front.”

I glanced down. Fuck. Now it looked really weird.

“It’s not a sex thing,” I burst out hurriedly. “It’s just a… It’s a, um, demiurgus thing. It’s just…” I fiddled with the cuff of my sweater, before blurting out, “I’m not all that used to spending this much time in my humanoid form, and I was feeling a little anxious, so I just—I decided to go to my deeproom.”

“Your… what?” Beryl cocked her head.

I gestured at the door behind me. “All demiurgus-built houses have a deeproom. It’s like a… cave, I guess? Just a space, um, deep in the earth, where we can go to relax and stuff.”

And race around like an idiot when I had too much energy that I needed to expend in my true form.

“Oh.” Intrigue sparked in Beryl’s green eyes. “That’s cool. So you feel more relaxed deep underground?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “I was born on the surface, obviously, but all demiurgus like being close to the ground, or below it. Just an instinct, I guess. So, yeah. Demiurgus houses tend to have deeprooms.”

Some rich folk even had entire deeproom networks that tunnelled super far down. And I’d heard rumours that the one percent had their own private entrances to Deep Earth underneath their mega-mansions.

“Wow. That’s awesome.” Beryl smiled at me, but then her mouth twisted with worry. “Were you feeling anxious because of what we talked about?”

“No, no,” I rushed to reassure her. “Just work. This headpiece thing is really complicated, and my eyes started to hurt when I was working on it earlier, so I decided to take a break and come down here.”

And because restless frustration made me get what my mom had always affectionately called ‘the zoomies’. I could not let Beryl know that.

“Okay.” She relaxed, eyes darting to the door behind me. “Well, I’ll leave you to it—”

“Do you”—I shifted from foot to foot, my ears fluttering—“do you want to see it?”

She perked up. “Your other form? Your true form?”

“Oh.” I fidgeted again. “Um, well, I actually meant the deeproom, but… I could show you that too. If you want.”

“You don’t have to,” she said immediately. “Sorry, I just thought that was what you meant.”

“No, it’s okay.” Despite the nerves churning in my belly, I managed a shrug. “It’s not like a demiurgus’s true form is a secret. I’ve just, um, never shown a human before.”

She gave me a gentle smile. “You don’t have to show me, Greid.”

“No, I-I want to.” I actually did. I wanted Beryl to see all parts of me. Turning for the door, I said, “I’ll go first because it’s pretty dark, but there’s enough light in the deeproom for you to see.”

“Okay.”

As she followed me, I felt her small fingers twine through mine. Clutching them tight, I led her down the spiral staircase, our footsteps clanging against the metal.

“Gosh, it’s far down, huh?” she said with a slightly nervous chuckle.

I glanced back at her quickly, almost tripping on the stairs. “Do you not like it?”

“No, it’s fine, I just… I guess I’m used to living up high. On that stupid hill.”

I snorted, facing forward again. “Yeah. If the cult really wanted demiurgus visitors, they should’ve built their compound underground.”

“Trust me, Greid, they do really want demiurgus visitors,” she said dryly. “They just don’t know anywhere near as much about demiurgus as they think they do.”

That was… very true, judging by the incorrect demiurgus cocks plastered all over their walls.

“Haven’t any of them ever watched demiurgus porn?” I realised how abrupt the question was the moment it left my mouth, and my ears fluttered. “Sorry. I was just, um, thinking about stuff. That they have wrong.”

Beryl chuckled, giving my hand a squeeze. “I guess they haven’t. I think the main reason they cut us off so much from the outside world was so that we couldn’t start to view the demiurgus as regular folk. Folk who, you know, just go shopping and out to dinner and make porn and TV shows and films… They want us to think of you all as gods. Above everyone else.”

“But do you think the old man knows? Or any of the higher ups, I guess.”

“No, I don’t think so. From what Violet told me, the high priest was just another follower who eventually rose through the ranks to take over when the last one died. He’s just as fervent as the rest of them. Probably more so.”

I grunted, drawing her to a gentle stop when we reached the closed door at the bottom of the stairs. “But you said people can only join when they turn twenty-one. So they spent the first two decades of their lives living among demiurgus, seeing how normal we all are.”

“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully, “but I guess people see what they want to see. And people can forget easily. Plus, it’s only a matter of time before you start to believe what everyone around you believes. When you’re being told every day that the demiurgus are ethereal sex gods who’ve blessed humanity by living among us, it doesn’t take long for that to become the truth. Especially when you’ve willingly gone into that situation with some sort of belief around that anyway.”

I squeezed her hand, giving her a tiny smile. “Except for you.”

“Yeah. I was lucky Violet never got sucked in. She made sure I didn’t either.” She snorted. “Can you imagine if you’d turned up that day and I’d been waiting in that line, drooling at the thought of becoming your mate?”

I shuddered, turning for the door. “Don’t even joke about that. Okay, you ready to see it? The room, I mean.”

She perked up. “Yeah.”

“It’s not, um, anything special.” I reached for the handle. “It’s literally a dirt room.”

“I’m sure it’s—” She gasped when I let the door swing inward. “Oh my god, Greid.”

I followed her in, trying to take in the room through new eyes. It was about twenty feet across and forty feet high, with rock and packed earth walls that curved organically. Embedded in the walls and rounded ceiling were countless imitation gemstones that were wired up to give off a jewel-toned glow. These ones were small enough that they didn’t give off the hum of current that bothered me. I knew some fancy fucks actually had thousands of real gems in their deeprooms.

Artificially formed stalactites jutted down from the ceiling, affixed to support beams hidden by the dirt, and in a circular cluster of big rocks at the side was my deeproom nest—just a mound of blankets on top of several giant floor cushions. Gotta have a nest.

“I can’t believe this is just… under your house.” Beryl stared up at the ceiling, turning in a slow circle. “Is it safe? Like, how does the rest of the house not just cave in?”

I shrugged, tucking my hands into my sweater sleeves. “I dunno. Support beams and stuff. I could ask my brother Nuni. He’s an architect.”

She laughed. “No, it’s okay. I trust that the house isn’t going to collapse. This is amazing, Greid.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, I guess.” Now that I was back in here, I was itching to shift into my true form again. To breathe in the scent of dirt and stretch my legs and spine.

I’d been running around like a feral idiot when I’d heard Beryl’s faint call from the top of the stairs, so I’d quickly shifted back and scrambled into my clothes in case she came down. I was still restless and antsy. I’d told Beryl that it was only work that’d made me feel this way, but honestly, it was a little bit to do with the conversation I knew we were going to have.

But I knew I had to be brave. Beryl was open-minded and considerate—she wouldn’t make me feel like a freak for what I wanted. This was my chance to actually, possibly have a sex life that was satisfying. A relationship that suited me. A relationship with Beryl, who I liked so much.

Okay, time to start with the whole brave thing. Maybe I could get it all done in one day and then I’d never have to be brave again. That sounded like a solid plan.

Taking a breath, I turned to face her. “Um, r-ready to see my true form?”

“Yes. Only if you want to show me.”

“I do, but… if it freaks you out, just tell me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen demiurgus in their true forms before, Greid. It’s not going to freak me out, I promise.”

“Okay.” I fidgeted anxiously. “Um, do you—I need to get undressed, so…”

“Of course.” She turned her back on me, and I immediately felt kind of silly. I wanted to be with her. We were starting to navigate something new between us that would undoubtedly require me to get naked in front of her.

But this felt different. This wasn’t a sexy situation. I was about to turn into a big beastly-faced creature that looked nothing like the form Beryl knew me as.

Taking another deep breath, I pulled off my sweater, then my jeans. I usually stripped off completely, but no way in the deepest parts of hell was I running around with my cock and balls swinging around in front of Beryl. Leaving my boxer briefs on—god, I was going to look like such a dork—I concentrated on the shift.

It was a kind of ache that felt bad and good at the same time, as my spine and limbs lengthened and my jawbone distended. Like super bad cramps in your legs, but also the satisfying ache of a really good stretch when you first woke up.

My feet lengthened, the heels rising and lifting me onto the thick pads of my toes as my claws curved down into the earth. My lower spine ached as my tail grew until it reached mid-calf. My vision shifted as my pupils became vertical slits.

I flexed my fingers as my claws grew longer and sharper, better for gripping onto rocks. Stretching my spine with a satisfied grunt, I rose to my full height. Beryl looked even tinier than usual down below.

Resisting the urge to cover my monstrous face with my hair, I cleared my throat. “Um, okay. You can turn around.”

My voice was much deeper and raspier in this form, and I saw Beryl jump at the sound of it. Her eyes widened when she turned and saw me.

“Oh my word, you’re so tall,” she breathed.

“Uh, yeah. About another foot, I think.”

I dragged a toe claw through the dirt as she studied my changed face. I knew what she was seeing. A long snout with even sharper teeth, spikes trailing up the bridge of my nose and curving over my brow to connect with the ones framing my hairline. The fronds of my ears had grown longer, better for detecting vibrations in the dark. The smile lines that cut across my cheeks had split open wider from my lengthened lower face, revealing pale green gums.

“Even your tail’s grown.” She circled me as I held perfectly still. “And your skin looks a little different. Tougher.”

“Yeah, leathery.” I coughed awkwardly, the sound coming out wheezy.

Beryl stopped in front of me again and smiled at up me. “You’re beautiful, Greid. I mean, your other form is too, but like this you’re… majestic.”

I laughed, but it came out as an embarrassing snort through my nostrils. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called majestic while standing in my underpants before.”

She grinned, gaze dropping to my boxer briefs before shifting to my hands as they hung awkwardly by my sides. “Your claws are longer. And they look sharper.”

“Yeah.” I held up my hands and flexed them. “To dig. And grip onto rocks and stuff.”

“Are you a good climber like this?” she asked with interest.

“Um, yeah. I can… I can show you, if you want.”

Her eyes brightened, the light from the gemstones around us sparkling in them. God, she was so pretty. When were we going to kiss again?

Definitely not now, while I was like this. I was pretty sure I couldn’t kiss her with such a long snout—at least not well, without slobbering all over her face.

“Yes, please.” She looked around and spotted my nest, a fond smile tilting her lips. “Can I sit here?”

“Sure, of course.” I watched, fidgeting anxiously as she made her way over and settled in the centre of the nest, looking so small with her legs crossed and her head barely poking up over the rocks.

She looked at me expectantly once she was comfortable, so I cleared my throat and headed for the nearest wall. Gripping a jutting rock, I hoisted myself up with ease and began to scale the side of the deeproom, picking up speed as I neared the stalactites hanging above.

“Woah, you’re so fast.” Beryl laughed, eyes tracking me.

“Yeah.” Bending my legs, I leapt for the nearest stalactite and dug my claws in. My hair hung down in a curtain as I looked down at her and grinned.