Phoenix Found (Brothers of Fire #5)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

“Am I interrupting?” Oliver stood in the doorway. He’d expected to have the kitchen to himself, not that it mattered, but now he’d need to talk to the man with ice-blond hair sitting at the kitchen counter.

The man glanced over his shoulder. “Just thinking and snacking.” He slid the lid over the tub in front of him.

“You don’t need to leave because of me…”

The man smiled. His eyes were a disconcerting pale green. Or maybe it was the way his gaze slid over him, as if in those few seconds, he had figured Oliver out. If he did, it would be nice if he shared. “I’m about to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

“Sure.” Oliver didn’t know where anything was in the big industrial kitchen. “So where do I find bread and such to make a sandwich?”

“In the fridge, there is a tray of sandwiches. The sandwich press is over there.” His words were accented, as if English wasn’t his first language. While his brothers switched between languages without thought and spoke English with a British accent, this man was different.

“I’m Oliver. Do you work in the kitchen?”

The man laughed. “No. I’m useless in a kitchen—aside from eating. I’m Perrin, the castle handyman and repair organizer. My father is the head chef. So if there’s something special you want, I can put a word in.” He winked.

A rush of heat, as if he was about to shift, shimmered over Oliver’s skin. “Thank you?” The words came out as a question, making him sound as if he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

He didn’t, both in the kitchen and with Perrin winking at him.

Perrin opened a box. “What kind of tea would you like? Caffeinated or herbal.”

“Herbal?” Oh my god, could he speak without everything being a question? “What were you munching on?” Oliver walked over to the tub.

“Nothing that you want to eat, phoenix. Come and make a selection.” Perrin stepped to the side, opening another cupboard and pulling out two mugs.

“Tea needs a cup and saucer.”

Perrin stared at him. “Tea needs a mug because it holds more, and I’m not about to sit around eating delicate nibbles and pretending to be fancy. Are you?”

Oliver shook his head. He wasn’t a prince. He wasn’t anything. “How did you know what I am? Everyone is supposed to think we’re fire witches?”

Should he have denied being a phoenix even though Perrin worked in the castle?

“You have that look.”

“What look?” Oliver leaned a little closer .

“Dark hair, sharp features. And I’d heard they brought you home.” Perrin studied the tea box for several seconds and plucked a bag out, dropping it in his mug. “There is loose leaf, if you’d prefer. And I can grab you a cup and saucer. I shouldn’t have been so rude. You are part of the royal family.”

Royal by default. He didn’t feel very royal. “I didn’t think you were being rude. It’s kind of nice to be treated…” He wanted to say normal, but he didn’t want Perrin to see him as a broken thing the way his brothers did. The way the psych did. Everyone was always watching as though expecting him to break.

Perrin lifted his eyebrows, his green eyes bright and a smile playing over his full lips.

Oliver ducked his head, hoping to hide the heat that flooded his cheek for no good reason. He’d just shifted, he wasn’t about to… Oh. It wasn’t shifting heat. He’d only ever had this feeling when reading a book. Never with another person. But then the only people he’d known were the witches bleeding off his magic and keeping him shut away from the world. “These are all written in French.”

“Ah…you don’t speak it at all?”

Oliver shook his head.

Perrin stepped closer. His arm brushed against Oliver’s, and Oliver flinched back, which made Perrin glance at him rather sharply. The smile thinned, and the light that had been in his eyes also dimmed. “You can’t go wrong with peppermint or lemon grass. I like the ginger, but some people find it a bit too much.”

Perrin wasn’t looking at him at all now, and that was worse than the accidental contact. He wanted Perrin to bump into him again. He sensed him only millimeters away, even though he didn’t exude the heat that his brothers or other shifters radiated .

“I’ll try the ginger.” He reached out and accidentally on purpose let his arm brush over Perrin’s.

Every hair on his arm stood on end. While Perrin might appear human, he wasn’t. He had that paranormal static about him. A buzz that rattled Oliver’s teeth.

Perrin didn’t pull away.

Oliver picked up the tea bag and handed it to him. “You aren’t human.”

Perrin sighed and dropped the bag in the other mug. “I’m not.”

“And you’re not a witch?” He was almost sure about that. Witch magic felt different.

Perrin poured the hot water into the mugs. “Was that a question or an elimination?”

“And I don’t think you are a shifter. I’ve only met a few, though, so you might be something I’m not familiar with.” Oliver frowned.

Perrin wasn’t hot to touch. Most shifters he’d met were warm because…because of the shifting heat, he realized.

“I’m being rude by prying, aren’t I? It’s just that I haven’t met that many kinds of shifters, and I don’t know much about the other kinds of paranormals.” He pressed his lips together, not wanting to appear completely out of the loop on paranormal matters.

Perrin passed him a mug, and their fingers brushed as Oliver accepted it. “I didn’t volunteer the information when you started asking, so yes, you are being rude by continuing to ask. If people press, I say I’m a reptile shifter. A snake.”

“But you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, fire witch.” Perrin took a sip of tea. The glint in his green eyes returned.

They were standing too close, but Oliver didn’t want to step back. If he was close, Perrin might bump into him again. The energy around him was cool and calm…definitely not a shifter.

If Perrin called himself a snake shifter, they both had little lies to hide the truth. Oliver took a drink.

“Would you like a sandwich?”

“Are they all labeled in French?”

“They are…you are going to need to learn how to speak it and read it.” Perrin walked over to the fridge.

Oliver stared at the cup. Tutoring had been arranged, but Dalmon and Kaine were trying to ease him into castle life. He’d only seen Gerrit twice, for no longer than thirty minutes each time.

“Two types, meat or no meat.”

“Meat.”

Perrin grabbed what Oliver considered a decent-sized, paper-wrapped sub out of the fridge. He flicked on the sandwich press and popped the sub in, still wrapped up. While he’d said he couldn’t cook, he seemed to know his way around the kitchen as if it were his own.

“How long have you lived here?”

“My whole life. I was born on the castle grounds.”

“Oh.” Perrin belonged there. He didn’t. He was back in the castle because Everest had made it his mission—over several lives—because they’d once been lovers, and he wanted to heal the soul bruise.

It had never been about saving him.

“I know all the best places. The hidden spots and cozy corners. So if you ever want to escape?—”

Oliver glanced up. “Yes!” That was exactly what he wanted. He needed to find himself, and maybe he was somewhere in the castle. “I mean, this place is meant to be my home, and I want to explore it. If you have time, that is… ”

Perrin sipped his tea and considered him. “I have time now. If you want to bring your tea and snack?”

“Where are we going?”

He smiled, eyes glinting. “Nowhere that will get us into trouble.”