Packages - GT

20

His anger spilled out in waves as he poured through the text, reading the neat handwriting. He knew already that it wasn't from his family--his father couldn't write, and his little sister had a messy hand; not that Kalea would ever do something like this. The tall blond grit his teeth and felt his blood rise as he read through the message again.

Good evening, Haced.
    I hope this package finds you well--I'm sure you'll enjoy the little gift I sent... Formalities aside, I have a message from your father. He wants you to return home. Immediately. I was to emphasize that this is not a request. Comply, or you will find less pleasant things coming your way in the near future.

He had to keep himself from ripping up the cardboard, his nerves bristling and his fists tightly clenched. This was the clue he needed, but he didn't want it. Just looking at the writing made his stomach turn.

"Bastard," he hissed, shaking just barely. He never should have thought he was free! That man would never let him be! It took all his strength not to break apart his table in his rage, his breaths shallow and quick. It disgusted him that they would drag an innocent girl into this mess.

...Yet he knew it was partly his fault. Had he not run off to the human realm, no one would have involved one--this had been changed from a family matter to a racial matter. If he was exposed to humans there would be consequences for everyone, and his people would be forced into a corner. It would become no less than the start of a war between this realm and that of his home...

But while his father was an ass, this wasn't his handiwork. Someone else was clearly involved, and they were experienced. His eyes darted to the bedroom, listening to the faint sounds of Mariana breathing. He had already put her in danger... What more would happen? He feared for her life.

"Christian...?"

Her quiet voice startled him, his attention tuned to her as he got up to check on the girl. He found her sitting up as best she could on the plush surface of the pillow, rubbing her eyes. When she looked up she saw him standing in the doorway instead of coming over to her.

"Ch-Christian...? What's wrong?"

His gaze darted away, the tense set of his shoulders outlined by the soft light coming in from the kitchen. He took a heavy breath and forced his anger down for now--it wouldn't do to scare her...

"It's alright, Mariana," he murmured, coming over to kneel at the bed. "I'm just a little tired. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me... What time is it?" Her head moved around, looking for clock.

"A little past seven, now. You got in a good four hours."

"I didn't think I was that tired..." She mumbled. He heard it just fine, though. As well as the little growl of her stomach.

"Hungry?" He asked with a small,  worn-out smile. "I'll make something. Do you want toast?"

"Yes, please."

"Come on." He very gently collected her from the pillow, feeling her little hands grip at his skin until she was comfortable in his cradled palms. He knew she could feel the shaking of his hands that hadn't been there before, and he could feel her eyes on him with questions, but he didn't say anything as he brought her to the table and set her down. As he turned to walk away he tensed at the sound of her stepping onto the opened cardboard he'd left out, willing himself not to look as she spoke up.

"What's this?"

His voice was soft, but stressed as he quietly replied, "Mariana... We need to talk."