Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

103. Ties That Bind

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"(Y/N), are you alright?" Stolas asked. "You seem a bit . . . off."

I looked up at him as we walked through the large corridors of his palace. I pursed my lips, unsure how to respond. "I'm okay," I answered, my fingers twiddling with each other. "I've just . . . A lot's happened lately. . ."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Like what, my dear?"

I opened my mouth, but quickly shut it when I felt my stomach flip. I shook my head and turned my head back to focus on the hallway in front of us. "Honestly, I — I really don't want to talk about it, Stolas. . ."

Stolas hesitated, pausing in his stride for a split-second. A sullen frown crossed his face. "I apologize. I don't want to pry."

"It's okay," I said. "It's just . . . It's just been a lot. . ."

We stopped in front of a set of large double doors, and he laid one hand on the door handle, the other on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured, giving my shoulder a small squeeze. "I sympathize — and I'm always here should you ever want someone to talk to."

I smiled tiredly at him. "Thanks, Stolas. And ditto."

He mirrored my smile, then opened the door to his library, gesturing for me to enter. "I trust that none of these goings-on involve a certain someone mistreating you."

"No," I said. "I mean, we had kind of a . . . s-something happen the other day, but. . ."

"Shall I pay him a visit?" he said in a low voice.

"No, no, Stolas. Please don't." I clasped my hands together and sat down at Stolas' desk, eyeing the ornate tile floor. "It was just a — a misunderstanding. I-It was my fault — I should've communicated to him better. . ."

Stolas was silent for a moment while he took a seat in the desk chair opposite me, then responded somberly, "I'm not going to press the issue, my dear, but something tells me that that is not entirely the case."

I gnawed on my bottom lip, my head still downcast. "Can we just talk about something else?"

He paused before replying softly, "Of course, my dear." He opened the blue leatherbound book on the desk in front of him and flipped to a specific page. "Ready?"

"Yeah, go for it."

Stolas smiled sweetly at me. With a wave of his hand, he summoned an ethereal cloud of indigo above us that cleaved to reveal a bright, porcelain-white full moon.

"This month's is the Wolf Moon," he explained, placing the Asmodean crystal I'd returned to him inside a small trinket box on the desk. "It is said by your kind that it heightens intuition and strengthens bonds with loved ones."

A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips as I stared up at the moon shining down on us. "It's beautiful," I muttered, leaning back in my chair. "It always is. . ."

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"Here you are, my dear! Fresh Andouille jambalaya!"

I flashed Alastor a small, grateful smile as he placed the full platter in front of me. "Thank you, Al," I said, taking my fork and crudely dicing the chunks of sausage scattered in the bed of dirty rice on my plate. I glanced at the empty seats at the long dining table and mused, "I guess nobody else wanted jambalaya for dinner."

"No, they didn't," he replied, taking a seat in the chair beside me at the end of the table. "But I suppose it can't be helped if the others have the palate of a garbage disposal."