Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 26

That evening, I went to Remi's cabin. I had so much to tell him, to apologize for, and I didn't want to waste any more time. He hadn't returned from the hunt yet, so I retrieved fronds from my cabin and settled at his small table to weave myself a hat.

The darker it got, the sleepier I became, until I eventually set my work aside. I told myself I would rest my head on the table, just for a little while . . .

***

Something tickled my nose. I waved my hand to shoo the fly away. It came back to tickle my nose again. I mumbled something to the persistent fly and turned the other way, wrapping my arms around my head. Then I heard snickering.

I opened an eye and peeked out over my elbow toward the sound. Remi stood there, one of my fronds in his hand. I grunted and sat up, blinking my bleary eyes.

"Watching you wake up is my favorite time of day," he said. "Even if it's at night."

"Why are you always waking me up?" My voice was a drowsy slur, and my eyes had sealed themselves shut again. I hadn't quite remembered that I was in Remi's hut at night, and that he had every right to wake me.

"Because I don't want to miss it."

"Miss what?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to grasp onto wakefulness.

He didn't answer, and knelt beside me. I felt the feathery touch of his hand as it wandered down my bare arm, lingered on my thigh, and continued down my trousered leg. That effectively chased my sleep away, and I opened my eyes, already slightly out of breath.

"There she is," he murmured, shifting his gaze across my face. "I always feel like your eyes pull me in."

I blushed and looked away.

"You want to know the real reason I like watching you wake up?"

My eyes flicked back to his.

"There's that unguarded moment, right before you're fully awake, when I get to see you without your self-consciousness, and without the walls."

It was ironic. The moment he mentioned my self-consciousness, it slammed back into place, making me keenly aware of my purpose for coming here. I watched the shadows that played on his face in the torchlight, his lips slightly parted with expectation. He was waiting for me to speak.

"Um." I scooted back in the chair, sitting up straight.

His lips pressed together in disappointment.

"What?" I asked, alarmed I'd already done something wrong.

"Nothing, it's okay. Your walls are back in place, that's all."

I looked down and wrung my hands. What was it Dilla had said? To accept it and move on? Maybe it was time to get over myself. "I'm sorry."

He leaned back. "For what?"

"For staying away from you, for shutting you out. I wasn't . . . I had a lot of things on my mind."

"You could have shared some of them with me. Eased your burden a little."

I shook my head. "You would've said I was being silly."

He tilted his head. "And how do you know that?"

When I gave no response, he said, "Siena, do I make you uncomfortable?"

I hesitated before answering. "Sometimes."

"Why?"

I reached for a frond and rubbed a green stem between my fingers. "I'm not sure. I think maybe . . . I'm afraid to get close to people. To trust them."

"You don't trust me?" His voice sounded hurt as he sat on the floor, knees drawn.

"No, that's not it!" I answered quickly. "I trust you with my life. It's just, you make me nervous." I stole a glance at him and found him grinning. "What?"

"I think it's normal to be nervous around someone you like. Someone special."

I thought about this. "Do I make you nervous?"

"You used to."

"What happened?"

"I started watching you wake up."

I scoffed. "Be serious."

"I am. Every time I start to feel nervous, I think about innocent, sleepy Siena and how she could never hurt me."

I pursed my lips. "Now you're just making fun of me."

He smiled, not confirming or denying.

I set the frond down. "Remi, I really am sorry. I treated you horribly. You didn't deserve that. And . . . I understand if you'd rather not associate with me anymore."

He arched his eyebrows. "Siena, it's going to take a lot more than a few hurt feelings for that to happen."

My heart sank. "So I did hurt your feelings."

He lifted a shoulder. "A little. But I understand. Sometimes, when the thoughts are just so heavy, talking feels like the worst idea."

I gave him a wan smile, glad he understood, but ashamed that I'd hurt him. His unwavering gaze unnerved me and I looked away.

He raised himself onto his knees so that his face was level with mine, and lifted my chin with a gentle finger. "You are so beautiful in this light." His palm was warm against my cheek. "Siena, I'm about to make you nervous again."

He was right. My heart quivered at his proximity, and I was torn between wanting to lean closer and wanting to jump out of the chair.

His hands brushed my arms, and goosebumps rose to the surface. I looked up into his eyes and they ensnared me. No, I would not be running away.

His hands slid down over mine and intertwined with my fingers, then he leaned in. My breath quickened and my pulse raced. When his lips touched mine, my eyes fluttered shut and I sank into him, reveling in the feel of his body against me.

I felt his energy mingling with mine, tingling within me from head to toe. He pulled away slightly and looked into my eyes. "Do you feel it too?"

"The tingling? Yes," I answered. "Is it always like this?"

"No," he said before capturing my lips again.

Several dizzying moments followed before I pulled back and asked, "You've had other girls?"

He grinned. "I don't kiss and tell."

I tilted my head and looked coyly at him. "You should tell me. You have to make me not-nervous, remember?"

His grin broadened. "Let's just say that, the way I feel about you, there will only ever be you."

My heart leapt at his admission and something melted within me, blooming into something indescribably beautiful. "Okay," I said, releasing my hand to stroke his face. "I don't think I'm nervous anymore."

He squeezed me into a tight hug, and I returned it with all my might, the last piece of a puzzle, clicking into place. The previously dominating fear, guilt, and shame receded far into the background, overshadowed by the feeling that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. That I was well and truly, finally . . . home.

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