"Huh..." Serena said, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I am not that hot. Besides, it was just my hair."
"I insist," Darius said, standing up from the seat.
He strode to the small closet in the corner, the wooden floor creaking beneath his steps. With a swift tug, he threw open the doors and rummaged through the neatly folded garments inside. Then he froze, one hand braced against the frame.
"You see," he said, voice slightly strained, "this place was meant for temporary stays by the Hawthornes and, well... I don’t have anything suited for you."
"That’s okay," Serena said quickly, pushing her hair behind her ears.
Truth be told, she wanted out of the clothes she wore. Every dart in the bodice seemed to pinch, every seam felt like it pressed harder with each passing second. She couldn’t stop thinking about Darius’s hands on the zipper, the fabric falling away, his fingers brushing against her back-
A small, mangled cry escaped her lips.
She squeezed her eyes shut. What is wrong with me? Snap out of it. But the image refused to fade out. She licked her lips, then quickly pressed them together.
"Would you mind wearing this?" Darius asked, holding out a cream cotton shirt of awkward length in front of him.
It would make a perfectly decent nightgown. For a moment, Serena could only stare. His clothes. Her heart kicked violently against her ribs, like it was trying to climb out.
She tried to exhale and then looked at Darius, forcing a small smile. "I do not mind at all."
Serena laughed, but it sounded so awfully awkward and fake to her own ears. It was just Darius, she repeated over and over to herself. Her eyes raked over his body... Darius.
"But I can change myself."
The silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Darius scratched the back of his neck. He was horrified that he had even suggested that to her. Gods, what was he thinking? He winced inwardly. He had made her uncomfortable. What kind of man says something like that? Creep.
He carefully slid the shirt off the hanger, avoiding her eyes, and replaced the hanger with mechanical precision.
"Of course. I will... go downstairs and change myself."
Serena nodded quickly, and he dropped the shirt in her lap before practically vanishing out the door. She released the breath she had been holding once the door closed.
She stared at the shirt and then clutched it. Serena brought it to her nose and took a deep inhale. It had been a while since Darius wore the shirt, she could tell from how faint his scent was. But that jasmine and freshly cut grass lingered.
"How nice," she murmured.
Serena lowered the shirt and her mouth hung open slightly. She shook her head and jumped to her feet, putting her palm to her face and patting it repeatedly.
"Oh, sweet moon goddess," she whispered. "I’m going insane."
She fumbled with the zipper of the dress and pulled it down. The sleeves were oddly tighter at the wrists, but with a little grunting and effort, she was able to pull it off.
The shirt was easier to put on. Serena simply slipped it over her head. It ended a few inches below her knees. Serena fiddled with her hair and ended up putting it in a loose single braid.
Serena exhaled, smoothed out the shirt, and walked to the door, giving the knob a single hard twist.
In front of her, Darius stood fumbling with the plainest clothing she had ever seen him in- brown, loose-fitting tunics. The sight was oddly endearing.
"Darius," she called out softly.
He glanced up at the sound of the door and froze for half a beat, eyes flicking over her. "Oh, Serena... you’re done," he said, his voice softening. "You look really nice." Official source is ɴovelfire.net
"Do I?" Serena asked, scrunching up her nose and then looked over the clothes.
She had never been the glamorous type. Silverstone was laid-back with their fashion, if they could even call it that.
"Yes, I am honest," Darius answered.
Serena smiled faintly, her tone laced with dry amusement. "Thank you very much. I think you look dashing."
That pulled a laugh from him. He shoved both hands into his pockets, his cheeks turning a faint shade darker. "You talk like Nana."
"Yes. Oh, that would be Elder Evelyn," he clarified with a short nod.
"She’s your grandmother?"
Darius shook his head and stifled a smile. "Not at all, but she could be, more or less. You know, actually... she is."
"I never met any of mine. Both sides. Any of my grandparents."
He lowered himself onto the cushion behind him and gave the spot beside him a small pat. She quietly joined him, sinking into the old seat.
"I’d imagine that’d be hard," he said. "Since you were a rogue. I’ve never known them to... stick around each other. Or have families."
Serena nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the floorboards. You don’t know how wrong you are, she thought, a sharp pang curling in her chest. But she simply smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
"Yes... it’s very different out there, outside a pack."
"You’re the most polite rogue I’ve ever had the privilege of speaking with," Darius said.
Serena pulled on her collar and smiled. She was not sure how to take that kind of compliment. Maybe it was how quickly she assimilated to the pack dynamics because she had been in one herself.
"You’ve met others?" Serena asked.
"Yes, I have. Never a pleasant encounter...until you."
She nodded slowly. It had not taken her long to understand how much rogues were hated here. Rogues in general were detested, but this was pure hatred from the inhabitants of Ironshade.
"Speaking of which," she said, shifting slightly, "how is Emmett? I haven’t seen him since the incident."
"He’s been quite fine," Darius replied. "Left the castle as soon as the meeting ended. You can never pin that man down."
Serena breathed a small sigh of relief. Emmett practically relieved most of her treatments. He insisted on keeping his daughter and his student alive. Still, Serena mixed herbs in the water she gave him to relieve his pain.
Darius leaned a little closer, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. He tilted his head, curiosity bright in his expression.
"So, Serena, I’m curious... What was life like for you as a rogue?"