Shadowfire & The Nymph

Chapter Twenty Two

Arlo's evening had not gone to plan.

After what seemed like an endless interrogation from Dylan and the sharp-eyed barkeep, Terrin, he had drunk himself into oblivion.

He just wished Sage had been there next to him – laughing and smiling, like always. Instead, he had Dylan. Who, a worthy drinking companion in Arlo's mind, just wasn't Sage.

His legs were tangled in the thin, threadbare blanket of the bed, the lovely pixie female he had seen as he entered the tavern lying beside him wearing nothing but his shirt. After many, many drinks, he had approached her in utter awe.

He had asked her where she was born and where she was raised (Earth – whatever that meant), if she possessed any magical abilities (She could make flowers bloom and crops grow faster), if she could truly fly (yes). He hoped she had perceived him as being overly interested in magic folk rather than an obsessive freak.

Her lying next to him was proof enough. Her glittering wings fluttered lightly, featherlight tips brushing Arlo's hair.

It had been the best sex of his life. He didn't know whether pixies were just amazing at sex, he was too drunk to properly judge, or whether he had just had poor sexual experiences in the past. He thought it was likely the latter.

They had been up half the night, the headboard banging against the wall in a steady rhythm until he felt the life leave his body and suck back in with a jolt. Someone who sounded a lot like Dylan had banged the other side of the wall and told them to shut up or he would cut the piece off so he couldn't keep going. They didn't stop for a long time after that.

He was sure he heard Dylan's door slam and footsteps sounding down the hall shortly after.

Oops. He would need to apologise for that later.

He carefully untangled himself from the sheets and pushed himself off the bed and grimaced at the creaking mattress. He peered over his shoulder and saw the pixie – whom he realised he didn't even know her name with a pang of guilt – still sleeping soundly, her raven black hair framing her beautiful face.

Long, curling, dark eyelashes, thick black eyebrows and green skin. Gorgeous. He wondered if all magical beings were this ethereal. He was in for a joyous awakening if so. A slither of shame slid into his mind for being so surface level and having attractiveness in the forefront of his mind. It was short lived, as the pixie stirred, her glistening wings fluttering again.

Topless, Arlo padded to the bathing chamber adjoining the great room, shucking his trousers off and running a bath. The steam made him lightheaded, but he didn't mind. The hot water soothed his tired bones and cleaned his dirtied, bloodied skin. Though, gazing into the softly rippling water and seeing his blurred reflection, his heart began thumping faster and faster in his chest.

He kept staring. Lapping waves, sea foam and murky depths. A gigantic snapping jaw and the sound of a boat crumpling like paper between that jaw's jagged yellow teeth. The sound of water in his ears, filling his lungs and nose. He was dimly aware of the shallowness of his breath as the thoughts kept ambushing his mind. He had screamed and screamed, knowing full well he should have preserved his breath. But when he had seen Sage's body sinking and the creature watching him like a cat stalks a mouse, he panicked.

A gentle knock sounded on the door. Arlo jumped at the sound and became all too aware of the cool water he sat in, his fingers and toes pruned. How long had he been in here? When did he even get in?

"Are you ok?" The soft voice asked from outside the door. Arlo shivered when he stepped out of the bath and towelled himself off, water eddying from his hair as he shook his head.