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I flopped down in the overstuffed chair on the other side of the room, rummaging around in the drawer of a nearby end table and coming up with a half-full bottle of Oisin's sickeningly sweet wine. I shook the bottle at Halstad in invitation and the mage came to join me.
"Fae wine is terrible shit," he groused. But he took the bottle from me and took a swig, grimacing.
I chuckled, taking the bottle back and chugging some myself. "Fucking awful," I agreed. But it was alcohol. And potent.
"Did you need something?" I asked the mage as he paced between me and the bed. He had a strange energy about him that was putting me on edge.
He glanced at Oisin's motionless form, buried under mounds of blankets. "Your witch will help with his healing," he said, continuing his pacing.
I raised an eyebrow. What the fuck was wrong with the mage? He never seemed uncertain.
"That's it?"
He heaved a sigh. "Fae can go out like this for a while," he said in a rush. I stared at him, met his pretty, purple and gold eyes, and remembered he had a lot of experience killing fae.
"Oh?"
He nodded and ran a hand through his dirty-blond curls. "Yeah. If they're hurt or severely depleted, they kind of...go inside? It scared the fuck out of me, first time I saw it happen."
I let out a breath. Oh. He'd seen a fae go comatose like this before and it had terrified him.
"You...Halstad what the fuck happened to you?"
He shook his head and waved the question away. "Not important. That's old business."
I leaned forward. "It is important, you moron. Everyone hates you because they think you're some sort of killer. But I'm not stupid. You don't hate the fae. You don't do anything unless you think it out five different ways first. You wouldn't waste your magic killing for the fun of it."
He stopped his pacing and crossed his burly arms over his wide chest. "Of course I hate the fae. Sneaky, manipulative, ridiculous fuckers. Most of 'em."
I took another drink of the over-sweet liquor. "Sure, I believe you." He was lying so hard it hurt to feel it with my gryphon powers.
He sank into the chair opposite mine. "Mages don't get a lot of free will," he said, mismatched eyes on my own, meeting my gaze unflinchingly. "So yes, I am a killer. I was born, bred, and trained to kill on command. It's what mages are, sweetheart. Tools. Fancy guns made for people powerful enough to own them."
I felt sick. "Halstad...."
He ran his hand through his hair again, making the short waves stand up in stupid spikes that weren't adorable at all. Idiot gryphon.
"Mage contracts are like fancy soul bindings. I tried not to be a tool, once," he said softly. "Didn't fucking work out so well. End of story."
I could see we weren't going to get any big revelations today. He was wound tight. And probably exhausted after everything we'd been through, all the magic he'd exerted to keep my pride safe.
"What did you really come in here to say?" I asked, way too tired for this emotional bullshit. And of the way I wanted to hate the asinine redneck, but just couldn’t seem to find it in me.
He leaned his elbows on his knees and met my eyes again, something like sadness in those mismatched orbs. "I came to say goodbye." He shrugged, as if he couldn't give a fuck less. "Job's done. You lot are home safe. It's time for me to go back to the closet where they keep the hammers and screwdrivers and the rest of the tools."
I shook my head. "Oh, don't be fucking stupid. Go get cleaned up and sleep. Stay here as long as you want."
In fact...something inside me was starting to panic at the thought of the gruff, annoying asshole leaving....
Halstad stood and gave me that sad look again. "You don't get it, girlie. I don't get a choice. I’ve fulfilled my orders. And my contract is almost up."
He turned and started to leave, then stopped. "This family of yours," he said, voice almost a whisper. "I didn't think love like that was real. You were right back there in the nowhere place though—it is real. But...it always hurts, doesn't it?"
He stood there, looking like he was fighting some internal war. His boots were loud as he strode back across the hardwood floor, fire in his smoldering magic eyes. He braced his hands on either side of my chair and I froze as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
Something sparked between us and I jolted with the force of it, grabbing the back of his neck and holding him there as his forceful kiss went pliant, opening to me, inviting me in as if he was...afraid. The beast inside me stirred and gave me a knowing prod. I moved my hands to his face, running my fingers across his rough blond stubble.
Fuck. I knew this feeling, this energy moving between us, weaving us together.
Halstad pulled back, staring into my eyes for a few seconds, breathing hard. "Goodbye, gryphon." He straightened and pulled his stupid goggles down over his eyes. "You take care of that pride of yours."
I surged to my feet as he turned to leave. "What?" Clenching my fists, I followed behind him. "That's it? Just...oh, hi, I think I'm one of yours, see you later?"
He paused and turned back to me and it infuriated me that I couldn't see his damned weird eyes, couldn't read his expression. "I'm not interested in being one of your many toys," he said flatly. "But it doesn't matter. Because I couldn't stay here, even if I wanted to." He turned away. "You don't own me. Someone else does."
I stood there seething as the asshole clattered down the stairs and out of my life.
"What the fuck?" I asked the unconscious fae in the room with me. If he were awake, Oisin would definitely say something witty and snark-filled to bring me back to my damned senses.
I didn't even like that gruff, annoying, asshole of a mage.
So why, even with everything else that was going on around me, did I feel like I'd just lost something important?