The Weaver's Source

Chapter 60

I woke slowly and instantly felt something strange. I was pressed up against something solid, my cheek warm, my hair being toyed with softly as the taste of honeyed milk touched my tongue. My eyes opened with difficulty and I blinked the heavy sleep away several times and very rapidly I realised I was being held closely by Grigore. I could feel myself squashed up against his side, no doubt allowing him to feel every inch of me, and my leg was tangled with his. I stiffened with embarrassment, shying from the small joy blossoming within me and the recollection of how I'd just tucked myself beside him without his knowledge. Worse, I quickly realised he was awake. His strong fingers were buried in my hair and his chin rubbed my head gently, his breath even and calm, as if didn't mind that I was moulded softly against him. I remained still, feeling Grigore's chest move slowly beneath my cheek, hesitantly enjoying his quiet strength and warmth surrounding me and tasting his song. A large part of me hoped he hadn't noticed me wake, that he would get up and leave and I wouldn't have to explain why I slept so close to him last night, but he knew I had the moment I stirred. Grigore tapped my shoulder lightly, letting his rough fingers dance over my bare skin almost teasingly.

"You're awake?" He murmured, his voice, deep and thickly accented, rumbling about me pleasantly.

"I am." I replied softly and glanced about the empty hut, trying my best to ignore the hot shiver running down my spine as his fingers continued to stroke my shoulder. It took a moment to realise his hand was bare. I could feel his rough skin against mine, his fingers warm, and my magic did nothing. There was no feeding, no burst of need for him, nor was there any real reaction from my magic. It was still in my chest and it felt exhausted, shrivelled and small.

"Grigore?" He hummed deeply in response. "You're touching me."

He hesitated briefly, I felt the rhythmic stroking pause, only for him to continue. "Your magic is small right now, I used up most of its reserves when I fed from you, and Lillith managed to horde some of the black dog's soul for me so I'm not hungry either for now. Your magic is calm."

I felt my face burn at his matter of fact tone when bringing up his acceptance of me and how hungrily he'd kissed me last night, and it only deepened when his song suddenly strengthened, showing me the depths of his reserves. His magic curled about him strongly, making my pulse quicken at the scent filling my nose and the taste swirling over my tongue. I felt him laugh softly when I curled up slightly, trying to hide my reaction to him. I didn't like how warm the sound made me feel or how flustered I was becoming.

"What time is it? Where's Lillith?" I asked instead, trying to steer the conversation from his hunger for my magic.

"It's nearing the afternoon, I think. Lillith left a while ago. She said she had some burning to do."

I felt a small pang of panic but quickly realised that Lillith had no reason to kill herself now. It was the corpse of the black dog she intended to burn.

"She's safe, Lyra." Grigore murmured and let his hand slip around the nape of my neck, his thumb brushing my skin gently. "You did well last night."

My face turned a deeper shade of red. "I didn't do much."

"You did more than enough." Grigore pressed firmly.

My gaze shifted to my hand resting upon his chest, my fingers feeling the ragged scars that cut through the hair, my heart thumping anxiously from his praise and pride that I hadn't been entirely useless for once, before I noticed the bandaged hand resting on his hip, partially concealed by the thin blanket.

"You still got hurt though." I detached myself from him, settling on my knees and letting myself only glance at him briefly. He looked so content as he lay beside me with his eyes half closed and fixed on me, stormy and dark. I didn't understand why he was happy being close to me, why he hadn't left me the moment he'd woken up like he normally would.