"𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑

“Freezing!” hissed from his side.

The source of the exclamation darts to him in a blur. And it comes to him in the form of hands wrapping around his bicep, followed by a frost-kissed cheek smooshed against his arm.

Amusement colors his features. He looks down at the crown of her head, resisting an urge to pat through locks speckled with frost. She shivers. Teeth chattering, and it looks like she has no intention of letting go.

“Miss Hunter,” Sylus acknowledges.

She responds with a violent shiver sifting through her bones. Sylus’ chest swells. He tries vainly to hide that stupid smile she always heralds in. Told her to wear more layers before she left the mansion. But she’s stubborn as all hell. And he supposes that’s what draws him to her like a moth to a flame.

He can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy this—being the center of her attention—even if it’s only to siphon his warmth. Regardless, he chuckles fondly. Encases the woman in his arms, tucking her beneath the flap of his trench coat.

“Someone was more concerned with being cute than warm,” he chides. Peers off to the side as if she’s a nuisance when she fixes him with a pointed look—like he isn’t secretly eating this all up.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” squeezed through grit teeth as she cowers into his jacket, tucking herself impossibly closer to his hip. “Just…keep me warm, will ya’?”

“Of course.”

So enthralled by the adorable honey-badger at his side, he forgets they have an audience.

Something bitter-cold sinks into his belly when he feels you in his peripheral. He winces as if pricked by a needle when, as he turns his head to fully take you in, his darling little hunter friend wraps her arms around his waist.

No matter how harmless the gesture, Sylus can’t help feeling like he’s betraying you.

Your gazes interlock. For a moment, your eyes quiver with something far-off. But you quickly look away, your hands stuffed in your coat pockets and a facsimile of a smile twitching your lips.

Sylus’ breath thickens in his lungs. Barbs line his throat, trapping whatever excuse he wants to utter. Whatever words he wishes to offer as comfort. It’s not often he’s at a loss for words. But maybe it’s better this way, if he keeps his thoughts to himself. You’re already wounded, both inside and out. Wouldn’t be fair to throw salt in festering lacerations.

You look so small. So plain where you otherwise shine like a constellation, attracting the awe and wonder of those around. He did this. Stole your luster. Whittled you down to this quiet, avoidant thing. There isn’t a moment that passes where he doesn’t regret hurting you, but—

Sylus stiffens when you reach through the maelstrom of his thoughts to pat the other woman’s arm. You flash him a wary look before the smile returns to your lips, and you rub her arm to ward off the biting, wintry chill.

Warmth returns to your countenance. That sisterly affection you exude exclusively for her. He remembers a time when she was the bane of your existence. A thorn in your side. Now, she’s something like family. Or as close to a family as you could call this patchwork of misfits.

Though his heart tugs and the cogs in his mind whirr, Sylus is grateful you found a little solace in the discord. A distraction to keep you busy where your mind is a slurry of self-doubt, rejection, and things of the like.

“Why don’t I go get you some coffee,” you state more than ask, your voice rivaled by the chatter of those around.

Sylus doesn’t contest you. Figures it’s your way of excusing yourself. Running away. He’d be bitter, too, if he caught him like this.

He watches you with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Dons a mask of indifference as he nods, and your aura exudes playfulness despite the forlorn glimmer in your eye.

He wishes you didn’t have to wear such a brave face. Sure, you’re used to wearing facades. He’s forced them on you for years. But he knows your pride’s leaking through the cracks.

You’d punch him if you knew how chaotic his thoughts around you were.

So he watches you meander towards the coffee trailer without a word. Peers down at the woman housed in his embrace, a twitch of a smile on his lips. He rubs her back to help her defrost. Ignores how his chest tightens, and something in the darkest recesses of his mind screams for him to fix this.

Two.

Did he mention only two people who could get away with making him feel like this?

The aromatic scent of coffee is comforting. A soothing balm to your heart, easing that gnarling feeling in your gut. That sensation you can’t place that makes you sick and your head all fuzzy.

“—and one chai latte, please. Almond milk,” you say, sliding the barista your black card.

She gives you a rehearsed smile when she returns it. Tells you she’ll call when your order’s ready. You respond with a practiced grin of your own, turning away from the window.

Stepping down from the steps of the coffee trailer, you clap your hands together. Rub them together to ward off the cold. Cup them to your mouth and blow. Pointedly avoid a set of carmine eyes, whittling you down to the marrow as you duck beneath an awning coated in gossamer frost.

He’s been staring at you like that since you walked away.

You sigh. Shove your hands in your pockets, shoulders dropping. You wish Sylus didn’t worry. Like you’re something brittle. Wish he didn’t skirt around you, your issues, and this tension. It makes you angry.

He acts as if things will never go back to normal. And maybe they won’t, given the trauma you recently endured. But you wish that were the only reason he kept you at arm’s length. Walked on eggshells around you.

You spare a glance at the pair of them. Catch Sylus’ gaze before it fleets away, his attention returned to his darling Miss Hunter and her friends crowding him. The center of attention, as always.

You smile wryly. Kick up some snow. Peer up at the star-speckled sky, leaning against a pole.

You just want this to be over. This feeling of unease between you—all of you. He made his choice. You happened to not be it. So what? You’ve been let down before. Been through worse, literally dragged through the bowels of hell and back.

It’s your job to be detached. Indifferent. Years spent seducing and killing the scourge of humanity have trained you to be stiff as stone. But even stone weathers with time.

You suck your teeth. Since when have you thought like this? Stupid.

You’re caught up in the inner turmoil of your mind. Hardly register when someone calls your name. Tentative, but they try again, and you hear it clearly this time. You look up. Surprise warps your features.

“It is you!” he calls enthusiastically, jogging over. Trips in the thick snow, and you reach out to steady him. He laughs abashedly, rubbing the scruff of his neck. His smile is infectious. And he’s still as endearing as ever.

You perk up as the man’s face comes to loom over you. He’s all dimpled smiles and rosy cheeks. His glasses overwhelm his face, only adding to his charm.

“Greyson? Hey!” you greet, your breath visible and filling the space between you.

“Long time no see!” he replies, reaching out to pat your arm. Friendly in nature, but it nearly knocks you off kilter. He’s stronger than you remember. “How’ve you been?”

For the first time in months, you smile. Genuinely. Nothing rehearsed, nothing forced. “Been makin’ it. Taking it day by day. How are you?” you ask with a playful jab.

“Same, same.”

“Yeah? See you’ve been workin’ out. You got big,” you add coyly, touching his bicep. Greyson chuckles, his cheeks turning several shades of red.

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into conversation with an old friend. Seamless, as if the years haven’t kept you apart. With all your notoriety, you’ve barely taken time to remember those you came up with. Barely taken time to breathe.

While you’re busy catching up, you feel them. Red eyes tuned to your every move. To every titter leaving your lips, every well-placed hand on a shoulder, or demure fingers wrapped around a wrist.

Maybe you’re playing up the theatrics a little too much under the guise of “catching up.” You squeeze Greyson’s biceps. Flutter your lashes a little too temptingly, laugh a little too sweet. You’re too good at this.

Maybe a part of you basks in the attention given to you from afar. From the jealous aura he exudes even from that distance.

As you pick up your order, then turn back to Greyson to key your number into his phone, you feel your chest swell with pride. Triumph.

He’s watching you like a hawk. Sylus. And you don’t doubt that he’ll have something to say when you return to them. But for now, you’ll have fun making his head swim with envy.

He made his choice, after all. And now you’re making yours.

“Call me whenever,” you all but purr. “We can catch up more while you’re still in town.”

Jealous?

Sylus doesn’t get jealous.

Territorial, maybe. A little possessive. Overprotective. But jealousy’s never been a part of his repertoire.

So why the hell can’t he get this scowl off his face? Shake that twisting feeling in his stomach as you return, a foxlike grin rounding your lips?

Sylus doesn’t let you out of his sight, even after you’ve given everyone their drinks. Follows you to a bench a little ways off from the pier where the fireworks are set to go off.

He sits a considerable distance from you at the other end, the warmth of his coffee cup bleeding into his palms. You’re none the wiser to his silent rage. Or at least, you pretend to be as you innocently sip your coffee, watching the Ferris Wheel languidly turn in the distance.

Sipping from his cup, he clears his throat. “Who was that?” There’s an edge to his voice. Then again, there always is. Maybe you won’t notice this one’s more venomous than usual.

You snort in disbelief. “An old client.”

“An old client?” Sylus parrots with a raised brow. “You two seemed awfully…close for him to be old.”

You snort again, setting down your coffee. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Do…that,” you say, dismissively waggling your fingers.

Sylus bristles, biting the rim of his cup. “Whatever do you mean?”

For the first time since sitting down, you look at him. He returns the gesture, feigning indifference. Can’t deny how beautiful you appear, silhouetted by the moonlight. The furrow of your brows does nothing to detract from your allure. And it’s the first bit of real emotion you’ve given him since he rejected you.

You sigh with frustration. “Can we just…can we not do this? This weird shit you’ve got going on?”

Sylus fixes his mouth to retort. To continue this childish game of keep-away, skirting around the tension that slowly brews in the space between. He decides against it. Deads the whole ordeal, taking in the exhaustion marring your face. You’ve been through enough.

Silence lapses between the pair of you. An uncomfortable silence where there was once laughter and banter and harmless flirting.

A few people walk by.

His throat clicks as he swallows. And he releases a breath alongside the tension from his shoulders. He sits back in an easy slouch, nursing the contents of his cup. Feels silly, baby-stepping around you like this. It’s uncharacteristic of him. But you’ve drawn things out of him as of late, things he thought himself dead to years ago.

“So, who am I seducing tonight?” you query on a laugh. Your attempt to shift gears. To dispel the awkwardness as you watch the darkened horizon glitter with lights.

Sylus tuts, fixing you with a sardonic smirk. “You know I don’t only keep you around for your looks, right? For your body?”

Honestly, he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know why he suddenly feels the need to clear the air when you’ve discussed this ad nauseam before.

When those thugs had filled your head with those lies after they kidnapped you. Convinced you, you were nothing more than a pawn. A rook on Sylus’ chessboard.

He bristles at the recollection. The way he found you, all bruised and battered. Because of him. All because—

Your scoff breaks through his ruminating.

“Then why do you keep me around, boss?” There’s a bitterness to your tone. Bitter like the coffee grinds sitting at the bottom of his cup.

You maneuver yourself to fully face him on the bench, legs and arms crossed. Expression expectant, hopeful.

Sylus lips work around an excuse. Something to put you at ease. He knows. He knows this. Why is it so hard to say it? Why is it—

A thunderous explosion parts the sea of tension between you. You both look skyward as the stratosphere erupts in a flurry of technicolor lights and the ground shakes.

People gather ‘round the rail in front of you, in awe and amazement at the beautiful display.

Sylus releases a breath he was unaware of holding. Surprisingly quiet as the sky burns with light. Can’t help watching you in his peripheral, your gaze unwavering as you watch alongside him.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

Doesn’t know if he’s referencing the fireworks exploding overhead, or you with your defenses buried beneath the snow and your heart on your sleeves. Just for a moment.