Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (20 page)

As if self-conscious, he nudged my fingers out from under the thick cloth. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing, Farra?”

It still gave me sparks to hear him call me by my first name. “People normally wear things
under
a jacket, is all,” I chuckled. “Didn't your mother ever teach you that?”

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, he flashed a tiny smile. “Would you like me to wear more clothes, then? I suppose I could do that. I worry that you would grow frustrated quickly when trying to peel them all off.”

I blushed furiously, reaching up to adjust the collar of his jacket more violently than was needed. Grault had become far more playful and affectionate in the week since we'd first kissed. “I've never peeled off your clothes.”

“True,” he agreed, “you've resisted that much.”

Scoffing, I made a face and stepped backwards. “Resisted! That's not fair, you make me sound like I can't control myself.”

“The opposite.” He leaned forward, showing me that, if my goal had been to retreat, the kitchen counter at my back was a poor choice. “I'm saying you're quite good at controlling yourself, Farra.”

His arms were on either side of me, that wicked grin so very near. He wasn't wrong, not really. I'd fallen hard for the feel of his lips, how the muscles in his chest felt on my cheek.
But we've done little besides kissing.
“I think,” I said quietly, “that you might be the impatient one.”

Grault's fingers vanished into my hair, ruining the bun I'd rolled it into. I'd never have pegged the man for someone so raw, so excited just to touch me. Yet every time he got close, I could literally
hear
him inhaling my scent like it were his last breath.

“Why?” he whispered into my ear, breaking the kiss. “Farra, what makes you hold out?”

I had to close my eyes, searching for my bearings. He could make a glacier melt, if he wanted to, I suspected.
So passionate for what seemed so cold of a man before.
“Grault,” I said, hearing my hoarseness. I calmed myself, tried again. “Grault, it's going to sound... very dumb.”

“What is?” His thumb dragged down my throat, making me gasp. “Tell me, you know I'll do it.”

Talking around the tingling in my mouth was a chore. “I'm worried you won't.”

“Ask, just ask, Farra.”

It took all of my composure to grip his jaw, pulling him away from the sensitive skin of my neck. His eyes were black lava, challenging me all over again. “You mean that?”

He turned enough to take my hand, kissing my inner wrist. “Of course, always.”

I hoped my voice didn't waver. “I want to see where you sleep.” His aura rippled, tension crawling into his limbs. I knew he would falter at my request, he had before. “You still haven't shown me, it's becoming really strange.”

“Farra, a room is a room, where does it matter where I lay my head?”

“It matters when you want me to lie
with
you.”

Gaping, the big man pushed himself against me. His forehead touched mine, our noses nuzzling. “You make quite the case when you phrase it like that.”

Blushing crimson, I looked up at the awning of his ivory lashes. “You make me feel awkward when
you
phrase it like
that
. Well, you said you'd do anything if I just asked. What will it be?”

In answer, he looked out the window. “My room is terribly cold. This snow will only make it worse, perhaps when the weather gets better—”

“Wait,” I said, twisting around to stare out of the glass. “It's snowing?” There, through the emerald sheen, I saw flecks of white drifting down from the dish-water sky. “It's snowing!”

Shoving Grault aside, I ran at top speed for my bedroom. “Farra!” he called after me, “where are you going?”

I didn't waste time answering. Shoving on a thick hat, my jacket, and three pairs of socks, I jumped the steps two at a time. His face was priceless, pure bafflement. “Come outside with me!” I said, tugging at his arm. “I want to go play in it.”

“Why would you want to do that?” He wasn't fighting me, but neither was he moving at my speed.

Yanking him harder, I grinned through my panting effort. “Because—I—haven't—seen—snow—in—years—and would you just come with me already?” I finished, letting him go to catch my breath.

Grault arched an eyebrow, looking pointedly out the window of the front door. I hadn't made any mention of it, but I wasn't planning to go in the backyard. I didn't want to be near the lake. Luckily for me, snow came down indiscriminately.

“Alright,” he said, mulling it over for a long minute. “But if I get cold, I'm coming back inside.”

“Don't worry,” I said, rushing to open the door. The brisk wind was refreshing, and a warning of what was out there. “It's only some flurries, it won't be that cold yet!”

My claim proved to be wrong. Within the first half-hour of us running around outside (or me running, Grault watching) the bloated clouds began raining down heavily.

Laughing, I leaned back to catch some on my tongue. “Wow, look at it come down. I've never seen it like this.”

“Never?” he asked curiously, reaching down to brush some white fluff off my shoulder.

In response, I shook my hair free of it. It was useless, more just stuck there. “When I lived in Atlanta, with my parents, I saw it sometimes.” The memory was bittersweet, thinking of how my mother would always make me hot chocolate after I was done playing. “But not down south in Macon, there's not much there at all. Never mind snow.”

Folding his arms, the man kept staring at the sky. The thick clouds were gloomy, hiding away any hint of the sun. “I see. Why did you move, if you like the snow so much?”

Crouching, I scooped up a handful. It burned, but I liked the feeling. “I didn't move by choice. I guess you wouldn't know about my parents.”

“I knew Gina,” he said, looking down at me. The snow made his lashes vanish, his irises even darker. “When she was young. The news of her death did not reach us for a long time.”

“I guess that's why I ended up in an orphanage, and not here,” I mumbled. “Mom must have done a good job of hiding any trace back to my grandmother.”
Would it have been better, coming to live here?

Something he said pricked me, made me glance up with a pinched mouth. “Wait. You knew my mother when she was young? How is that possible?”

The shock that rolled on his face made my heart sink. It was the look of someone caught with a two headed coin. “What do you mean?”

“You look
my
age,” I said, standing slowly. My fingers were numb as the snow fell from them. “You couldn't have known her. Could you?”

“It was brief,” he said, showing me his profile. “She ran away at fifteen, I was working for Tessa already then.”

I was running numbers in my head.
I guess... if he was younger than her, young enough to remember but old enough to work. Mom had me when she was seventeen, if Grault is ten years older than me, okay, maybe... but he doesn't even look thirty.

It still sounded weird to me. “How old are you, Grault?” I couldn't mute the doubt in my tone.

He tilted his head, turning back to me like an owl might. “How old do I look?”

“I would have guessed twenty-something,” I said nervously, “but that wouldn't work. So, um, maybe thirty, thirty-one?”
He would have been, like, eight when he was here, then. And she was fifteen. Does that even make sense?

His smile was slow as a snail. “Yes. You're correct. I'm thirty-one.”

It still struck me as wrong. So young to be helping my grandmother, did he have no parents, either?

Biting the inside of my cheek, I decided not to pry. The mood was already morose from talking about the dead. “When was the last time you built a snowman?”

“Never,” he said, shaking his head.

Yes, that would fit with no family. Maybe him and I are more alike than I thought.
Gathering up a big handful of snow, I began packing it into a hard sphere. “Grault, you're in for a treat.”

****

W
e played for hours. Despite claiming he was worried about becoming cold, Grault never voiced a single complaint. In fact, it was me, my teeth chattering after the hour grew late, who was the first to shiver.

“Maybe we should go inside,” I chuckled, dusting snowflakes off the blob of a snowman. It was awful looking, and the heavy ice trickling down didn't help.

Grault was very proud of our creation. He'd placed rocks for a mouth and eyes, lovingly choosing the most round ones possible.

Glancing at me, he took in how I was hugging myself. “Your nose is very red. Yes, let's go get warm.”

“I wish I had actually bought hot chocolate,” I said, kicking the crust of snow off my shoes. We left wet puddles on the doormat.

Hanging my coat up on the rack, I instinctively went to reach for his. Of course that was silly, he had no intention to remove it. “Sorry,” I said quickly, “uh, old habit. You sure you don't want to change out of that into something less... wet?”

He ruffled his short hair, bits of frost dusting free. Then he repeated it with his shoulders. “I'm fine, don't worry. You look very cold, though. Let me make you some tea.”

In the kitchen, I huddled in front of the furnace. My fingers throbbed, itchy as sensation returned to them. It had been grey outside for a few days, the sun forbidden.

Squatting in front of the fire made my vision blurry. It ate at the moisture on my face until my skin could have cracked. “Here,” Grault said, bending down to offer me a steaming mug.

“Thanks.” Squeezing it tight, I took a tiny sip. It burned my taste-buds, warming me from the inside.

“Is it good?” he asked, crouching beside me. The fire played off of his hard features, sinking the hollows of his cheeks even deeper.

I knew I was staring. “It's perfect.”

“Perfect,” he repeated, smiling down at me. “Even if it isn't hot chocolate?”

“I wasn't talking about the tea.” Leaning up, I slid my lips across Grault's. I thought I could taste the snow, he was oddly cold. “Maybe you should get closer to the fire,” I mumbled against his cheek.

“Or maybe just closer to you,” he chuckled. He took my tea, setting it on the floor. The flat stones of the kitchen had stolen the heat from the furnace. It felt wonderful on my back when he pushed me down.

Grault's mouth still felt bloodless, a place that even frost wouldn't melt. Yet, the more he pressed against me, the more he stole my own heat. It wasn't long before his tongue was as warm as my forgotten tea.

The front of his jacket was damp, I wanted to ignore it, but it was seeping through my sweater. “Wait,” I gasped, turning away from his eager lips. “Wait a second. We can't do this like this, not here.”

“We're only kissing,” he said against my throat. For a second I felt his teeth.

It was hard to argue, my brain was becoming useless mush. “You want more than kissing,” I managed to say.

“Don't you?” His long fingers curled in my hair, a pillow made just for me.

I do, I do I do I do. But...

Gingerly, I pushed against his chest. “You're soaked, it's distracting. Show me your room, you can change there.”

He leaned off of me, eyes narrowing like I'd told a lie. “You want me to change my clothes?”

“It would be nice.”

“And what if I take off my coat, and have nothing else to wear?”

I thought he was teasing. “Well, that might work, too.”

There was a tightness around his mouth. It was clear something was bothering him, I was prepared for him to dodge the issue like he had so many times. “Alright,” he sighed. “If you're so determined, Farra, I'll show you where I sleep.”

I was on my feet, nearly kicking over the mug of tea. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, a smile tugging at one corner of his delicious mouth. “But I have to warn you. I don't get company up there, so it may be drab.”

Wait, 'up there?'

“Also,” he went on, “you should bring the lantern. I don't have lights.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “I would have gotten you some, if I had known where to run the wires.”

“It's fine, I never minded.” He led the way from the kitchen with me scurrying at his heels.

I'd left Tessa's lantern in my room, which seemed to be where he was going. Snagging the light wasn't much of a detour. Grault continued along the hallway upstairs, taking me down the path that had become familiar to me on my rounds.

It was only when he reached up, tugging down a set of attic-like stairs at the end of the hall that I stopped in my tracks. “Was that always there?”

“Of course,” he said, motioning me up the steps. “You never noticed?”

“If I had, I would've checked it out.” Shaking my head, I held the lantern high. The wooden stairs were stable, but that didn't make me more eager to ascend them. “You go first.”

Grault climbed in front of me, reaching back to take my hand. “It's safe, trust me.”

My brain was trying to understand how I had never once seen Grault in the hallway, or heard him opening or closing those stairs. Was I that unobservant? It seemed impossible.

The lantern illuminated the room, revealing a big loft that reminded me of Dirk's upstairs. The roof tapered above, rafters melting into the shadows. I couldn't see everything, he hadn't exaggerated when he'd said there were no lights.

He helped me off the top step, letting my hand go reluctantly. Turning in place, I squinted around at the blackness. “Why
is
it so dark? Do you have no windows at all?”
Even the green glass gets a little light. It's dark outside, but still.

“I do have one window,” he said softly, walking off towards the far right wall. Curious, I followed him. The lantern flickered, showing a long cloth the color of charcoal. Grault reached up, tugging it sideways like a shower curtain.

Taller than him, perfectly round, the emerald window was more a circular door than anything else.

I gasped, my breath visible in the chilly room. “It's so big! Why keep it covered?” The snowy outside world let only a hint of glow inside. I imagined that when the sun was shining, the whole room could be beautiful without the cloth.