Текст книги "Berries and Greed"

Автор книги: Lily Mayne

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Beryl

“Beryl, darling!”

I looked up from my phone to see Corva gliding toward me from the register at Deep Brew, tucking a credit card back into her purse.

“Hi, Corva.” I shuffled to the side so she could wait for her drink with me, dutifully lifting my chin for her air kisses beside either cheek.

“I was hoping to bump into you.” She nodded at my phone, pulling hers out of her bag. “We haven’t exchanged numbers yet.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t stop the beaming smile that spread over my face. Was she my first real friend? Well, aside from Greid, but he was more than a friend. He always had been. And I was friendly with everyone at the bar, but they were colleagues. We hadn’t hung out together outside of work.

I fumbled with my phone as Corva rattled off her number, then sent her a text at her demand so she’d have mine.

“How’s the job going?” she asked, tucking her phone away.

“Oh, really good,” I said eagerly. “I’m enjoying it.”

Which reminded me, I wanted to talk to Greid about contributing to the bills when I got home with our coffee.

“It’s the place across the street, right?”

“Yeah. Abyss.”

Corva pulled her phone back out when it vibrated, frowning at it. “I admit I haven’t checked out the nightlife around here yet,” she said absently, bright yellow painted claws tapping at her screen. “Still traipsing all the way across the city to meet friends at my old haunts. I just don’t think I’d survive if I didn’t eat at least once a week at Le Champignon Noir. Have you been?”

“Uh, no.”

She stuffed her phone back in her bag and clasped my arm. “Oh, you must. Their black truffle and dark chocolate parfait with liquorice foam is to die for.”

That… didn’t sound all that great, but I smiled politely. Note to self: make sure Greid knows not to book somewhere as fancy as Le Champignon Noir for our date. I could already tell it would be hellishly expensive, especially if it was Corva’s favourite restaurant.

“Well, maybe you could invite some of your friends to Abyss one evening,” I offered. “It’s really nice in there. Or brunch,” I added. “We do brunch.”

She seemed like the brunching type.

“I think I will.” She gave me a big smile, deep red-painted lips revealing sharp white teeth. “And you must join us! If you’re not working, that is. No, wait, you won’t want to drink where you work. Don’t shit where you eat, eh? Text me one night when you’re not working and we’ll go to a different bar for a few drinks. I’ll invite some of my girlfriends. They’ll love you.”

“Will they?” I asked nervously, suddenly jittery at the thought of being out with a group of sophisticated, worldly women.

“Of course they will, darling.” Corva nodded at the counter. “Your drinks are ready.”

“Oh.” I stuffed my phone in my coat pocket and reached for the cups.

“You’re always getting two drinks when I see you in here,” Corva said slyly. “Who’s the other one for?”

“Oh, um, my…” My fingers flexed around the cups. “Uh, this guy—We live together but… we’re, um…”

I didn’t really know how to explain what Greid and I were now. Dating? Friends who had recently admitted how ridiculously attracted we were to each other? A new couple who lived together but not in that way? Not in the long-term committed way. Not yet.

“We’re, um, we recently started… It’s new,” I finished awkwardly, feeling heat creep up my cheeks when Corva winked at me.

“Good for you, darling. Oh, here’s mine.” She grabbed a cup off the counter. “Ready?”

As we walked out of the coffee shop together, Corva’s phone started vibrating in her bag. Pulling it out, she made a disgusted sound. “God, this client is a total nightmare. Apparently imported Italian glassware isn’t good enough for his dinner party. I better take this and see what else he has a problem with.” She leaned down for another air kiss. “Text me soon to meet up, yes?”

“Yes, sure,” I said quickly, watching as she held the phone up to her ear and turned, gliding elegantly away, black heels with deadly points tapping over the concrete beneath the swishing hem of her long, stylish grey coat.

I grinned to myself as I turned and started heading home, taking a sip of my steaming black coffee. Excitement fizzed in my gut, and I looked around as I walked down the street to see what other bars Corva and I could go to. She was right—I’d feel a little awkward sitting and relaxing with a drink in Abyss while the people I worked with served us.

There was one that looked just as swanky as Abyss, the trim around the doors and windows a deep burgundy, the sign proclaiming it Carnelians. I crossed the street to get a better look, eyes widening with awe when I saw the huge chandelier above the circular mirrored bar, dripping with blood-red crystals. There was a discreet, framed drinks menu next to the door, in parchment paper designed to look old with elegant cursive listing a huge range of wines. Many of them were nightberry varieties and extortionately priced, but there were a few cheaper options and some spirits. Maybe we could go here. I was pretty sure Corva would like it.

I started to turn to keep heading home, but the store next door caught my eye. The window displays were a mishmash of items, making it hard to tell what they actually sold. Tall demiurgus mannequins towered over the human ones, all of them wearing clothes that looked a little dated. A vintage typewriter sat on a somewhat battered side table next to a vase of dried flowers, a polaroid camera and some hideous china knickknacks.

I glanced up at the shop sign. Mother Mila Foundation. Recognition bloomed as I stood on my tiptoes to peer over the window display into the store, seeing rails of clothing and shelves of random assorted items. I’d read about Mother Mila at the compound. She’d been one of the demiurgus who led the first group to the surface so long ago, negotiating with humans for peaceful co-existence between the species. A charity had been set up in her honour at the beginning of the twentieth century, helping new migrating demiurgus transition to surface life. It was odd to think that there were still demiurgus living far below us, many of them never venturing above ground. I wondered how different they were from people like Greid who’d been born and raised up here.

This must be a thrift store for the charity. I hesitated on the sidewalk, clutching the two coffee cups, then decided to go in. We got paid every two weeks at the bar, so I’d received my first paycheque and had spent hardly any of it, despite how excited I’d been to see it appear in my bank account. Greid had helped me set up contactless payments on my phone, but I wasn’t sure if a thrift store would only take cash.

Not that I was planning on buying anything. I was just interested to look around and see what the well-off residents of the Cimmerian District decided to donate. Maybe this could be where I brought all the stuff Greid didn’t want from his Room of Shame. Although, I had noticed the pile of boxes shoved into the corner of his room when I’d been leaving it yesterday. I was pretty sure he’d snuck more things down since we’d gone through them.

The store was empty when I went in save for an elderly demiurgus lady browsing the bookshelves at the very back, and the young demiurgus with multicoloured hair and several facial piercings behind the cash register.

The latter looked up from her phone to give me a beaming smile. “Good morning!”

“Morning.” I smiled back, awkwardly clutching the two coffee cups as I wandered over to the nearest clothing rail.

“Do you want to leave your drinks on the counter while you look around?”

I gave the store attendant another grateful smile as I approached. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I will. Thanks.”

After setting down the cups, I migrated toward the big wall of random items, which had been organised by category. There were piles of dated crockery sets, a selection of brightly coloured kids’ toys, clusters of glass and ceramic vases, neatly stacked vintage records and Mother Mila Foundation-branded candles with scents like ‘honey-drenched dirt’ and ‘night-blooming jasmine and bergamot’.

I walked slowly along the shelves, stopping when I came to a row of demiurgus-made ornaments and knickknacks. Some of them looked like the ones dotted everywhere in the house—small, brightly coloured pieces of glass that had been expertly twisted together to make unusual shapes.

But tucked right at the back were a few things that looked different. Carefully picking one up, I cradled it gently because it seemed delicate and fragile. It was a clump of what looked like pink oyster mushrooms made of opaque glass, with a jagged cluster of pale blue, milky white and lilac crystals around the base.

I stared at it in fascination, peering closer. It was expertly crafted, the petal-like caps organic in shape, each gill delicate and paper-thin. Spotting a tiny white sticker on the base, I blinked at the price. It was only a few dollars.

It was beautiful and looked so well-made. Sure, it was a little kitsch, but I loved it. And I was going to buy it.

A tiny thrill raced through me as I reached back for the other mushroom-looking ornament on the shelf. Maybe it was silly to be so excited about buying knickknacks, but these would be the first tangible items I’d bought myself—things to keep, not just coffee or food. I could put them on the dresser in my room. I could ask Greid if there were any other thrift stores in the area that might have more. Maybe there were all different kinds.

The other one for sale was a clump of long, tapered stalks with fat bases and domed caps in a vibrant purple. This one had a single shard of pale yellow crystal to steady the base, chunky and striated with white and amber.

I grinned, carrying them over to the register and asking the friendly attendant if I could leave them with my coffee cups while I kept looking around.

When I left the shop twenty minutes later, there was a bulging plastic bag hooked over my arm. I hurried home clutching our lukewarm coffees, and when I got into the house, the first thing I did after shedding my coat and boots was put the cups in the microwave to heat up.

I was pretty sure Greid wasn’t up yet, but I was too excited to show him what I’d bought, so I carried the bag and our coffees to his bedroom door and knocked with my elbow. “Greid?”

I heard the rustle of fabric, followed by his sleep-rough voice calling out, “Come in.”

When I opened the door, I saw no Greid, just an indistinct lump under a mound of blankets on the bed. Then a head of dark, glossy hair popped out before big yellow eyes blinked at me sleepily.

“Beryl, is that you?” he rasped. “I’m fading away.”

I burst out laughing as I made my way over to the bed. He was such a dork. “Shut up, I’m like, half an hour later than normal delivering your coffee.”

“I can’t hear you,” he said, shifting upright to lean back against the headboard as I settled cross-legged on the bed beside him. “The lack of caffeine is shutting off my senses one by one.”

I laughed again, but my insides pulsed with want at the sight of his bare chest. Was he completely naked under there? I forced the thoughts away and handed over his coffee. “I went shopping.”

“Oh yeah?” He popped the lid off and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip.

“Yeah, at the thrift store next to the Chinese place we’ve ordered from a few times?” I dragged the bag closer to me. “They have so much cool stuff in there.”

“Oh right, yeah. I know it. Haven’t been in there for a while.”

“I was thinking we could donate your Room of Shame stuff to it.” I shot a pointed glance at the pile of boxes tucked beside his closet door.

Greid coughed awkwardly. “So what did you get?”

Snorting, I reached into the bag. “Some new shirts. A handbag, seeing as I don’t have one. Well, it’s actually an old leather rucksack. Look.”

I pulled it out, admiring the cracked tan leather and thick brass buckles. Greid nodded, reaching out to take it. “Nice. Have you looked inside yet? Sometimes people leave cool stuff in bags when they donate them. You know, like old shopping lists or notes they forgot to take out.”

“No, not yet,” I said distractedly, rooting through the paper-wrapped items in the bag until I found the one I wanted. “I got you this.”

Greid went still, then dropped the bag and set down his cup on the nightstand before reaching out to take the heavy, wrapped object I held out. “You didn’t have to get me something.”

But he was already fumbling to unwrap it, grinning as he held up the fat double-wick candle, its wax a deep red in a dark brown glass container.

“I got the most interesting scent I could find,” I told him with a wry smile, which made him spin the candle to read its label.

“Deep secret rose and freshly dug earth,” he read out, then lifted it to his nose and sniffed. “Oh man, it smells so good.”

I flushed. “I don’t know what kind of deep secrets a rose could have.”

“It’s a type of rose. They smell really nice.” He gave me a shy smile. “Thanks, Beryl.”

“My pleasure. It was nice to be able to buy you something.” I leaned forward on my hands to give him a kiss, which went on for a lot longer than I’d been expecting when Greid threaded his fingers through my hair and kissed me back eagerly.

By the time I pulled away, I was a little dazed, but forced myself to say, “Which reminds me—now that it’s been over a month since I moved in, you should be able to go through your bills and see how much they’ve all gone up by. So I know how much to contribute.”

Greid froze, then groaned dramatically as he fell back against the headboard. “You’re going to make me do math?”

Laughing, I picked up one of my new shirts to inspect it. It had a vintage floral pattern—probably old-fashioned and ugly to a lot of people, but I loved how colourful it was.

“Yes,” I told Greid sternly. “But only when you have time. Did you do some more work on the headpiece last night?”

“Yeah, a little. Cleaned up a bit first and did some laundry. You left yours in the machine, by the way. I put it in the dryer for you.”

“Oh, shit. Thanks. Sorry, I forgot.”

“I’m used to it,” he teased, nudging me with his knee beneath the blankets.

I did tend to forget when I’d started doing laundry. Greid was usually the one to remind me. And put my stuff in the dryer so it didn’t start smelling damp.

“What else did you get?” he asked, picking up his coffee and nodding at the bag.

Grinning, I eagerly pulled out the two delicate mushroom ornaments, wrapped in thin paper. “So I saw these with all the other demiurgus-made knickknacks and thought they were awesome.”

“Oh, cool,” Greid said as I unwrapped them both and set them on the bed between us. “Sporefruit sculptures. I think I have a couple somewhere.”

“Sporefruit?” I asked, watching as he picked one up to inspect it.

“I think it’s a rough translation of ‘mushroom’ in the original demiurgus language,” he said casually. “They’re cool. Super popular a few decades ago. My grandma had a whole shelf filled with them.”

I laughed. “I’m guessing not so popular anymore then?”

“Maybe not with younger demiurgus,” he said sheepishly. “But there are some rare ones that are collectable. People sell them online sometimes. Or you can find them in thrift stores if you’re lucky.”

I perked up. “Can we look online for more?”

“Sure.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’ll try and find the ones I have as well. They might be in one of the second-floor rooms. Or the basement. I know I inherited a few from my grandma, though. We all did.”

I shifted. “You don’t have to give me the ones from your grandma, Greid.”

“Well, it’s not like they’ll be going anywhere.” He ducked his head and coughed. “Um, right?”

I bit my lip around a smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Right. Thanks, Greid. I promise I’ll take good care of them. If you can find them, that is.”

“See, this is why it’s best not to have a cat.” He raised his brows at me. “No risk of the little shits knocking stuff off surfaces.”

I laughed, carefully rewrapping the ornaments. “That’s true.”

The curtains were partially drawn over the windows in here, making the light low and intimate. The air smelled so good—warm, sleepy Greid mixed with a hint of the shade he’d probably smoked before going to sleep. I picked up my coffee cup and took a sip as Greid relaxed back against the headboard, the new candle in his lap. After draining his coffee, he picked it up again to sniff it.

I knew I should probably leave him to get ready for the day or go back to sleep, but I didn’t want to.

“Hey, I saw Corva in Deep Brew,” I told him. “She invited me out for drinks sometime soon.”

Greid set the candle on his nightstand and smiled at me. “That’ll be nice.”

“She said she’ll invite some of her other friends, which makes me a little nervous.”

He frowned. “Why?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Because… I don’t know, they’ll be all sophisticated and worldly like her. I don’t want them to think I’m a bumpkin.”

Greid’s face grew uncharacteristically hard. “If they treat you badly because you don’t eat at fancy restaurants or wear designer clothes or whatever, they’re not worth your time.”

I could tell I’d hit a nerve, so I shook my head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think Corva is like that. I can’t speak for her friends, though. I just meant, like… I can’t contribute any stories of wild exploits when I was younger or past long-term partners or even going to high school or college. Unless I want to tell them about living in a sex cult that worshipped demiurgus for most of my life, it’s like I materialised out of thin air at thirty-five and have never experienced anything.”

Greid’s yellow eyes softened as he reached out to squeeze my knee with long fingers. “You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to, Beryl. You could just say you were homeschooled and had strict parents. Or… I don’t know, you were a deep-sea fisher so spent years living on a boat.”

I laughed, covering his hand with mine. Greid always managed to make me feel better. “Yeah. I’ll think of something.”

“I don’t think…” Greid flipped his hand to lace his fingers through mine. “I don’t think many people would judge you, Beryl, if you did tell them the truth. You didn’t join the cult of your own free will. You were forced to grow up there. No decent person would blame a child for the circumstances they had to endure.”

I swallowed thickly, squeezing his hand tighter. “Maybe. But I don’t think I want people to know. I still stayed there when I could have left.”

Greid shook his head. “Beryl—”

“I don’t want to think about the cult,” I interrupted, tone overly cheerful. “Shall I make us some breakfast?”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Greid yawned and let go of my hand to pick up his coffee cup, pouting when he realised it was empty.

I laughed. “You’re going to cook breakfast?”

He gave me a mock glare. “I’m capable of toasting bagels and spreading cream cheese over them.”

“Are you though?” I said dryly, remembering the other morning when I’d gone into the kitchen and found crumbs and cream cheese smeared over the counter beside the container, which had been left uncovered and out of the fridge. A cream cheese-coated knife had been poised over the edge of the sink, which Greid did when he wasn’t sure if he’d want to come back and make more.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then adopted a big, bright smile. “Hey, you know how we were talking about pets last night?”

“Uh, yeah…” I said slowly, confused by the abrupt topic shift.

He grinned at me wider. “I was thinking. I’ve always wanted a pet tarantula.”

I went perfectly still. “Don’t you dare.”

“You said you like cats, right?” He snickered. “Well they’re basically just like cats, but with more legs. Still furry and cute.”

“They’re not ‘furry’, they’re hairy. And if you think they’re like cats, why do you want one? You don’t trust cats.”

He made a face. “Well, they’re like if cats stayed in an enclosure and didn’t do anything annoying.”

“They can bite.”

“Cats can bite.”

“They… they move too fast.”

“Cats move fast.”

“Greid, if you keep a tarantula in here, I am never coming back in your room again.”

“I could keep it in the workshop.”

“No,” I barked, shivering. “Then it’d be right above my head at night. It could get out and… and…”

“Hulk out of its enclosure and open two doors to get into your room?” he asked wryly.

I glared at him. “Greid, you know you’d forget to put the lid back on its enclosure after feeding it or whatever. God, what would you feed it? Would we have to keep bugs in the fridge?”

He chuckled, reaching over to finger a lock of my hair. “I’m not gonna get a tarantula, berry. Don’t worry.”

I sniffed imperiously. “So this is what I get for bringing you coffee directly to your bed and buying you a candle. Tormented with the threat of horrifying creatures sharing our home with us.”

His expression grew stricken. He snatched the candle off the nightstand and cradled it protectively. “I was joking! Don’t take the candle away.”

Laughing, I shook my head and started packing my new things back into the bag. “I won’t. I guess I better leave you to get dressed for the day.”

“Oh. Okay.” Greid fiddled with the blankets over his lap. “Um, you don’t have to go yet. If you don’t want.”

I didn’t need any more convincing than that. Placing the bag on the floor, I scrambled closer to Greid and started burrowing under the blankets.

“Uh, might want to leave one between us,” he said hurriedly. “I’m, uh…”

I grinned, curling up into his side and throwing a leg over his as I dipped my head to kiss his bare shoulder. “Are you naked, Greid?”

“Y-yeah. And I, uh, I’m definitely gonna get hard, so I don’t want the barbs to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry so much, Greid,” I murmured, shifting closer to tuck my face into his neck and breathe in his scent. “They didn’t hurt me at all yesterday. It’ll be fun getting creative.”

“Nnngh.” His arm crept around me as I pressed kisses over his throat. I smiled when I felt his hips shift anxiously.

Lifting my head, I trailed my lips over his jaw and cheek until I reached his mouth. Greid’s arm tightened around me when I kissed him, dancing my tongue over his bottom lip. He immediately opened for me, shivering as our tongues met. God, the bumps and ridges on his were still such a novel sensation. I couldn’t wait to feel them on other parts of me.

As if he knew the direction my mind had wandered, Greid tore his mouth from mine, panting lightly, and asked, “Is your period over yet?”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “No. But they’re never all that long for me, so another day or two at the most.”

His throat bobbed with a swallow as he cupped the side of my face, long fingers pushing through my hair. “I want to touch you so bad, Beryl.”

“You did yesterday.” I kissed the corner of his lips. “And it was amazing.”

“No, but I mean…” His yellow eyes dipped to my mouth. “I want to make you come.”

My belly tightened with arousal, and my voice had grown husky when I murmured, “I want that too.”

Hand still cupping my cheek, Greid’s thumb stretched to smooth over my bottom lip, his blunt claw digging in gently. I couldn’t stop myself from parting my lips and sucking it into my mouth, relishing the way his eyes grew heavy as a strangled groan rose up his throat.

He pulled his thumb free and crushed his lips to mine with sweet desperation. In between feverish kisses, he mumbled, “I don’t—care that—you’re on—your period. Please.”

God, I was tempted. I wanted Greid’s hands and mouth all over me. I wanted to see him naked again, to watch his big cock fill out and stretch and become that enormous, slightly deadly looking beast that I could kiss and lick and play with until he was begging me to let him come.

But despite always getting incredibly horny on my period, I also never felt the strong urge to actually be touched during it. Periods weren’t gross, but they were messy. I already knew Greid wouldn’t care about getting blood on his sheets, but I’d rather wait until I could really enjoy it. Really, really enjoy it.

I broke the kiss, breathing fast. “Soon, okay?” Trying to calm down, I stroked a soothing hand over his chest and gave him a sly smile. “Then I’ll let you touch any part of me you want.”

Well, only when I told him to. I’d make him tell me first—tell me everything he wanted to do to me before I actually let him. God, I couldn’t wait.

Greid’s pupils were blown, lips damp and parted around his quick breaths. He swallowed, looking a little dazed as he nodded. “Okay. Soon.”

I allowed myself to give him one more kiss, valiantly ignoring the heavy weight throbbing against my leg. But… I could make him come again. I could use his cock sleeve to stroke him off while sucking on the head of his dick, pulling back every time he started to get close. I could work a finger into his ass and mercilessly tease his prostate.

Wait…

“Do demiurgus have prostates?” I asked, pulling back from the kiss.

Greid stared at me with wide eyes. “Um, y-yeah but, Beryl, if we’re not gonna… Maybe we should change the subject.”

I laughed as he furtively tried to adjust his dick, now a long, prominent column under the blankets. Deciding to give him a break, I kissed his cheek before resting my head on his chest with a sigh.

“Working today?” I wanted to wrap my arm over his stomach, but then I’d be pushing against his cock. Instead, I curled my arm around the front of his neck to play with his hair.

“Yeah, gonna finish off the headpiece.” Greid’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “How about you? What’re you doing today, I mean? Until you have work.”

“Gonna work out, then I might try making something else for dinner before work. I’ll probably have to go out and get some stuff, though. The fridge is a little empty of actual ingredients.”

I heard Greid suck in a breath to speak, but before he could ask I added, “I’ll get you some snacks.”

“You know that chip brand I like?” he asked quickly.

“Liffs?” I knew the one. They were loosely designed to look like leaves and had flavours that catered more to demiurgus palates.

“Yeah. They have a new flavour I really want to try.” He gave the back of my head a gentle scratch with his claws. “Beet and strawberry. They’re bright pink!”

I wrinkled my nose with a chuckle. “Sounds gross.”

“To your bland human tastebuds, maybe.” Another affectionate scritch over my scalp, making me want to purr. “They literally hit shelves this morning, so if you see them in the store…”

I laughed, propping myself up to look at him. “How do you even know about it?”

Greid waved a hand in the general direction of his phone on the nightstand. “I follow the brand’s socials.”

I bit my lip around a smile. Of course Greid followed the social media accounts of a potato chip company. “I’ll make sure to bring you back your pink chips.”

He grinned and leaned in to kiss me. “Thanks, berry.”

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