I woke slowly, stretching out under the covers and confused to find myself still fully dressed and not in my shift. I pushed my hair out of my face roughly, stifling a yawn, then very quickly grew rigid. Memories of last night came rushing in and the very raw realisation that I was strongly attracted to Grigore on my own. My skin flushed as he filled my head; his rough features, his deep voice, how he'd watch me with amusement or dark hunger, how he made me feel so safe.
I quickly sat up, shoving aside the thoughts that made my heart flutter, and found I was alone in our room. The fire was dead, just a mound of grey ash and black wood, and Grigore's chair was empty. I breathed a little sigh of relief. Not only did I dread how I was going to react around him, knowing I was just going to embarrass myself, but I had rejected him last. He'd tried to touch me and, in my turmoil, I had recoiled away, making him retreat very quickly and his walls to shoot up. I had hurt him, I realised hollowly.
I tried not to think about it or the small pang of guilt I felt needling in my chest and looked to the window. My heart sunk. Light was shining beyond it, yellow and weak but clearly indicating night was over. I dove out of bed and stumbled to the curtain, tugging it open and gasping in horror when daylight met my eyes. It wasn't dawn but early morning. The hunt was meant to have begun by now.
I quickly stripped free of my clothes and hurried to the pale of water tucked in the corner, frantically washing and dressing myself. Just as I finished wrapping my loaned scarf about my throat, the door opened and Grigore appeared. I felt my heart soaring at the sight of him, sending a bout of butterflies to shimmer in my stomach and my eyes to shift gold and pink. My whole body felt warm and light and I was unable to look away from him. Everything about him just drew me to him.
Grigore remained by the doorway and, to my surprise, his gaze remained on me. His expression was firm, his body stiff and his mind steeled, but he wasn't avoiding me and his walls weren't as firm as they had been last night.
"You're awake." He stated firmly but without the defensive anger I had been expecting. "It's time to go."
My heart thumped at his rough voice brushing my ears. "I thought you'd get me up at dawn."
His expression hardened and his hand flexed in frustration. He didn't say anything for a moment, just watched me with hard eyes, emotions shifting sharply through him so quickly I couldn't pick up what they were.
"You needed sleep." Grigore said eventually, brushing aside the subject quickly. "Let's go."
I trailed after him the moment the door was locked and accepted the apple and roll Milcent shoved into my hands the moment she saw me in the food hall. I smiled at her in thanks but that was all I could do as Grigore bundled me out into the thin snow and bitter cold.
The whole way towards the manor we were both quiet, but a different quiet. It wasn't full of contentment like usual, just enjoying each other's company without a word, but it felt like a thin wall was there preventing us from speaking. Grigore kept a couple of steps ahead of me, deep in thought, his shoulders and back rigid. It saddened me but I had expected it after recoiling from him like I had. Grigore was a sensitive man and often reacted strongly to me. Even the tiniest action would have him brooding, defending himself or laughing at me wordlessly, but I didn't want him touching me too much, not when I may actually truly want it. I didn't want to be sucked in by him anymore than I already had. Our relationship was sensitive and one blurt of affection would have him retreating from me, Source or not. I had to keep these feelings I had to for him to myself. I couldn't risk upsetting the delicate balance and ruining everything I had built up between us. While it meant I had to be careful around him and not react to him as best as I could, I liked the idea. The rejection was inevitable and I didn't want to have to face it. Keeping my mouth shut was a plan I liked.

YOU ARE READING
The Weaver's Source
FantasyLyra has been waiting for her Weaver to find her for years, unable to leave the safety of her home and only connected to him through passionate dreams - remembering nothing about him apart from his wild, sensual song. When the lone Weaver Grigore f...