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Fool! He wished he'd never learned the rapture of having her hands on him. The kind he'd never thought possible. Passion had ruled him. A woman had owned him.
But Puck did not own her. He'd been so arrogant to think he could addict Gillian to his touch, to make her crave him forever. William's claws were embedded far too deeply in her heart. William, who gave her affection and had fun with her, who somehow made her feel supported.
At least, he used to. Perhaps her feelings for the male stemmed from the past?
Either way, envy seethed inside Puck, a monster more powerful than Indifference. Every cell in his body screamed alongside the demon's constant wails: win her from the other male.
He hadn't given his rules a single consideration, had only thought about her. He was falling for her, hard and fast. And what happened when you fell? You crash-landed, and you hurt. You didn't walk away--you crawled.
Do you want me to love you? Her question still tormented him. He'd said no, and he'd meant it. The moment he used the shears, her feelings for William would return. Puck knew this beyond any doubt. If he had her heart, only to lose it...
He played her game: what if.
What if she gave her heart to Puck, then took it away? What if she gave her heart to Puck, but left it in his keeping? What would he do then?
What would he give up for this woman?
Should he walk into the sword, or continue to walk around it?
He bit back a curse. Why was he even contemplating this? The answer was simple. Walk around. Always around. He would settle for her body, as planned, and experience whatever satisfaction she had to offer. Nothing else.
"You told me about adult Puck," she said, oblivious to his turmoil, "but not about baby Puck."
Ruthlessly, he turned his thoughts from love, sex and different possible futures. "I was like anyone else, I suppose. I ate, wet myself and cried. Not sure what more you'd like to know."
"Only everything." She toyed with a blade of grass. "While you were off hunting William, I noticed a lot of child soldiers on the battlefield. How old were you when you began training?"
"Seven."
"Seven!" She sputtered for a moment. "So young."
"Not young enough, according to my father. But my mother agreed with you."
"Good for her," Gillian said with a nod. "No child of mine will ever go to battle."
How different his life would have been, if he'd had a champion like Gillian.
Then her words registered, and he stopped breathing. No child of mine. A child. Her child. Their child.
In his mind arose an image of Gillian, pregnant with his babe. An image he couldn't shake.
What kind of father would Puck be?
Daddy isn't proud of you, son. Daddy doesn't love you, or care if you live or die. Stop crying before I give you a reason to cry.
Besides, family made you vulnerable to betrayal, as Sin had proven.
Would Gillian one day marry William and birth his spawn?
As jealousy burned inside Puck, Indifference reacted as if his heart had been shocked with paddles, jolting into motion, prowling across his mind and howling with...pain?
Now you know how I have suffered, helpless to act, all at your behest, fiend. Cheers!
The butterfly tattoo on his chest slid over his skin, ending up on his back.
Gillian noticed and gasped. "Is the demon attempting to weaken you?"
"Probably, but he's failing." Back to the subject at hand. "Sin began training at five. Though he could have stayed with our mother, he chose to accompany me to the barracks."
"Sounds like a pretty cool brother."
A nod. "He was." Which had made his betrayal worse than...anything.
"What's your favorite memory of him?"
"There are too many to name."
"Pick one, anyway."
He thought for a moment, sighed. "A few days after we were taken to the barracks, I threw a fit about our treatment. No soft pillows on our beds. No platters of meats fed to us by adoring women. No clean clothes. I was beaten for my insubordination. Sin, too."
"Uh, this doesn't sound like a happy memory."
"I'm getting there," he said. "Patience, grasshopper."
"Grasshopper?" She grinned, and his gaze zeroed in on her mouth.
Hunger clawed at him, but he forced himself to go on as if nothing was amiss. "I expected him to complain, to hate himself for joining me. To hate me more for not insisting he stay behind. But he looked at me with wonder and said I was the strongest person in the entire world, that no matter how many times I was struck, no matter how many times I fell, I got back up."
Eyes luminous in the moonlight, she flattened a hand in the center of her chest. "You're right. A beautiful memory. You might hate your brother for what he did, but you love who he used to be."
He shrugged.
"How easily you dismiss what so many of us dream of finding," she said quietly. "I wish I could tell you vengeance is or isn't sweet, and you'll feel better when your brother is dead. But the evils of the past aren't washed away because the person responsible is gone."
"You feel no better suspecting your abusers are dead?"
A shake of her head, dark braids dancing over her breasts. "If they're dead, and I'm almost certain they are, my guilt and shame still have not eased."
"Guilt? Shame? Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened all those years ago. A man, any man, even a boy, knows better, always. They simply choose their pleasure over another's pain."
"What am I to feel, then? Hating them does no good. It certainly doesn't hurt them. Worse, it gives my abusers power over my emotions, my life."
"But look at you now. Thriving. A queen of strength and bravery. The past might have dragged you down for a time, but you fought your way up. And maybe you didn't always stay up, maybe you fell back down a time or two, but you kept fighting. Today you soar."
She seemed to bloom with every word, and it eased some of the tension inside him. "Thank you, Puck."
He nodded in acknowledgment.
"Tell me about your mother," she said.
A realization: he was speaking with a woman, sharing his past, learning more about hers--what he'd once dreamed. His secret desire, and it was better than he'd ever hoped.
"She was a gentle woman, kind to everyone she encountered." He reached out to sift Gillian's braids through his fingers. Pure silk. "She would sing me to sleep while caressing my face."
"You said was." She placed her hand over his and offered a comforting squeeze. "She died?"
Bad memory...seductive company. He should have kept his hands to himself. Now, he only wanted more.
Now?
"She killed herself after the stillbirth of my only sister," he said.
"Oh, Puck. I'm so sorry."
A pang in his chest, new howls in his head. "Tell me more about you. Any siblings?"
She shuddered but said, "I always wanted a sister."
"Now you have one in Winter."
"And William. Even Cameron."
She considered William a sister? I call foul. "I'm sure the two males would love hearing themselves likened to a female sibling."
"Please! They'd both welcome compliments to their feminine side."
Puck curled his hands into fists. "I don't want to talk about them." Especially William. How he hated hearing the man's name on Gillian's lips.
One day, the bastard would have what Puck wanted most.
*
"All right. Tell me more about Sin. Why can't you take his crown?" Gillian asked, sensing a dark change in Puck's mood. "You're certainly strong enough. And I've seen you in action. Despite the demon, you're amazingly fierce."
His chest puffed up with pride, and she almost laughed. In so many ways, he was a typical male. Proud to the max. In other ways, not so much. "I am fierce. There's no one fiercer. I should be able to take the crown without issue, but for some reason, I cannot. The man I no longer wish to discuss is the only one cap
able of the feat."
"The Oracles named William, specifically?"
"They did. Said he would live or die for you."
Live or die. For her. "Sorry, Pucky, but no one's dying for me." Although, if William died on her behalf, she'd get that not so happily-ever-after, wouldn't she? Her friend would have died for nothing!
Did one prophecy feed off the other?
Foreboding struck her. If someone had to die... Put me in the game, coach. Gillian would literally jump on a grenade for William. Her life for his. Puck's, Winter's and Cameron's, too. Even Peanut's. Johanna's and Rosaleen's. Any of her people, really.
"Has he-who-shall-not-be-named asked for more details about your prophecy?" Puck inquired.
