Chapter 31: Remnants.
Our morning routine was nearly the same as every other day.
Except for a few fundamental bits.
I woke first, my head heavy and skin sensitive. Alarm burst through me, like a punch to the chest when I blinked up at the strange ceiling. I tracked the constellation of stars, my racing heart calming.
The Alpha didn't make a sound in his sleep, that broad chest rising and falling rhythmically. One arm was curled around me, but he had eclipsed the bed, sprawled out without a care in the world. Fondness warmed me, chasing away the dregs of tiredness. We had been wrapped together at some point, but his body had become blistering hot and I had scooted to the edge, desperate for a whisper of cold air.
He did not move when I slipped from the bed, my skin marked with his reverence. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds, cutting across the bed. It illuminated his tanned skin and the mark of silvery scars that had torn into his flesh. He did not move as I crept out of the room, slipping his dressing gown over me though I heard no movement in the house.
In the mirror of my room, my hair was wild. My eyes were bright. The uneasy smile that rose made me balk, so I dressed and went downstairs for my first bitter coffee like I did every morning. I walked in the quietness of the house, hair unbound and the straps of my sundress chafing my shoulders. Sunlight danced on the floor where it could, the day warm and breezy. Muffin had already found her sunspot. She watched me lazily as I walked around, her tail lulling lazily.
Contentment settled in my bones and I opened the front door, tipping my face up to the azure sky. The estate was quiet still, but I could hear a child crying far in the distance. Keys jangled in the pocket of a man as he rushed from the house, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to lock the door behind him. A great dog bounded in the front garden down the road, snuffling at the flowers. He never barked, but was lethal for the flowerbeds.
When the coffee pot dinged, I tipped my face up to the sun. "Hello."
The sun never said hello back, and I imagined someone spotting me talking to the great ball of fire. Would I be embarrassed? Probably not. I had forgotten how blue the sky could be, how golden the sun. In quiet moments like this, with the sky so beautiful and vast, it was easy to forget how small the white ceiling of my cell was.
I closed the front door with a smile. The coffee was brewed and as I hugged my first mug close to my chest, the stairs creaked. Nervousness flared in my chest and I found myself uncertain, shy even as Easton walked into the kitchen.
Tiredness rumpled him. The marks of the pillow could still be seen on his face and he had misbuttoned his shirt. He stopped in the doorway and blinked at me for a minute. Then, a small smile rose as his cheeks burned red.
Shy.
I motioned to the mug waiting beside me. "I made you a cup of coffee."
"Oh, thank you." He took the mug, humming under his breath after he took a sip. "Just right."
"Enough sugar to block your veins."
"You always attack my coffee preferences." He tutted. "Have you tried it?"
"I like my teeth where they are."
He cast a look to the ceiling with a sigh, but his smile was warm and easy. It was easy, too easy to slip back into normalcy as Easton pottered around the kitchen to make breakfast. His morning paper was ready as always and his attention drifted as he read it, his answers becoming stretched. Still, he seemed to be aware of me, stilling as I neared. And because I could, I ran my hands over him; his hair, his arm, his back whenever I could. It always startled him, as if my hands were live-wires.
When breakfast was ready, and the front page of the newspaper devoured, he cleared his throat. He raised his eyes to mine. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
I was on my second omelette and was eyeing up the third. I had seen him clean away five, a mindless pit for food but I was just as bad. "Talk about it?"
"Yes." He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting away from me, before settling once again, resolute. "Talk about it. Before the house and the world wakes up."
I sipped my coffee and surveyed him. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know what there is to say." He admitted.
I arched a brow. "Do you regret it?"
Shock flitted across his face before his brows sloped heavily. "No. Never."
"I thought so."
His head titled and he mulled over the words visibly, his fingers tapping a nonsensical pattern on the wood. "Do you...do you regret it?"
"I wouldn't be eating breakfast with you if I did."
His mouth pinched and I felt a stab of regret for the curt reply. It was black and white to me but this was the man who painted me as an explosion of colour, who tattooed me over his heart. Who waited for me, who changed the world for me and others like me. Life was not black and white to him in that regard. It was hard to swallow the bite, to think of something comforting to say to ease the worry that pinched the edges of his mouth.
Sighing, I reached over the table and took a hold of his hand. I squeezed his fingers gently, and said. "No. No, I don't regret it."
"Good." He murmured, lifting my hand to his lips. The gentle touch was enough to set me off, a wild shiver chasing down my spine. He tracked the reaction, his eyes darkening. "Good."
I had finished breakfast and my coffee by the time Lux flounced down the stairs, rumpled and heavy with sleep. She grunted a good morning to us and Muffin made her appearance, yowling for attention. She haughtily skirted the Alpha who bent down to pet her head and criss-crossed through Lux's legs, relentless in her demanding
"We're doing the flower-beds by the park entrance today." Lux told me. "And there's a little toy boat show going on? We're going to be helping the primary school made the wooden boats for the children to decorate."
"And we have to make a stop by the compound." Easton cleared his throat. "We're closing in on a Ravi facility."
"I'm in high demand." I mused.
Easton set down his paper, his mouth tense. Sensing the turn of his mood, I faced him fully. "What is it?"
"I was thinking, perhaps, it would be a good idea for the soldiers to see the Omega and the Ravager in their alternate form. We've rarely encountered something like it, and there are fears sweeping through the barracks about what kind of ...creations... the Ravi are cooking up in their labs."
I frowned. "I'm not being flounced around like a show pony."
"You will be in a wide room. The door will be opened. I don't want you to feel like people are examining you." Easton's voice was soft. "And the choice is yours. It is always yours."
I worried my lip, thinking. I trusted him and his words, and knew the advantage that the Ravi had was in their secrecy. "Fine. If Adken agrees."
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Hope burned like a kindling fire behind my breastbone. The feeling didn't escape me even when we left the army facility. We had sat in front of maps all day and talked with soldiers whose jobs focused solely on tracking down the Ravi. It lightened my steps and even though I walked without a sound, I felt like every step was so light that I could be sent flying into the sky.
A call came from my Kale late that afternoon, his voice hesitant but mirroring that hope. "Mamae and Nyssa are making cookies. Mamae says she would like to see you. Would you like to come for a late supper?"
I had shot straight up from my seat in the music room, my hand whipping out to catch my mug of coffee before it could tilt far enough to spill. In the silence of the music room, painted with nature and music, I pressed a hand to my rising smile.
"Bring Easton of course." Kale's voice echoed over the phone. "We'll get all this awkwardness sorted out. I promise you."
"It isn't your job to look after me."
"As your only brother, it's my duty." His tone was warm. "Come by."
I did. And Easton had readily agreed. I found myself with hands fisted on my lap, clutching a tray of baked goods that we had picked up from the bakery as a gift. Easton had rolled down the window and I tipped my face to the wind that streamed in, senses burdened by the passing countryside.
We reached the farmhouse in Alpacina with sun peeking over the horizon, bathing the farmland in a buttery gold. The jeep rolled to a stop. A tightness sat on my chest and Easton fell silent as I stepped out of the jeep, eyes squinting across the light. The front door was blue and as it opened, the smell of baking cookies flooded the front yard.
Mam stepped outside, her apron splattered with flour. Her smile was tentative, but familiar.
"Nova."
That hope burned brighter. "Mam."
"I made your favourite cookies." Her smile faltered. "Well, they used to be..."
"That never changed."
A black and white dog shot out from the barn, his body shaking with excitement. Easton laughed as the dog fell upon him, scrambling at his legs with an excited whine.
"It's good to see you too." Easton laughed, scratching the dogs head. "Kale didn't manage to wrangle you into the bath."
A loud groan sounded as I stepped out. Kale emerged from the shed, wiping his hands in a ragged cloth. "Dusty, come here. I am sorry, Easton."
Dusty was not one to be put off. Deciding that he was done with Easton, the dog launched himself at me. I laughed, startled as he lapped at my hands and pushed his snout insistently into my palm.
"Hi." I murmured.
"He likes you." Kale greeted me with a smile, his eyes crinkling. "Welcome...home, Nova."