He gives me a playful, mischievous smile, his face still clad in his usual clown makeup. I’m realizing now I have no idea what he looks like without it. “I’m here to watch you.”
I shake my head. “You weren’t assigned to me. Nobody’s been assigned to me in days.”
“Yes, and I think that’s a mistake.” He brushes a finger against the fur of my wrist. “I wanted to…take one… for the team.”
The emphasis he places ontake onesends my stomach churning, and I make to escape from him. He grabs my wrist, and I’m taken aback by his boldness.
I’m tall, but Baelor is taller. He’s older, too. I doubt he’s stronger than me and I know he’s not more powerful than me—I’m not even sure he has access to magic—but there’s something overwhelming about him and the evil gleam in his eyes that unnerves me.
I can feel the tattoo on my spine vibrate, as if waiting for me to make my next move, and I take that as a sign from the lupion goddess. Splaying my fingers out, I wield water from the bathhouse and use it to freeze his feet to the ground.
Baelor struggles in place as I stare him down.
“I was just trying to be nice,” he says, and spits at me. “Fucking ugly bitch.”
Walking away from him, I head away from camp. I don’t know where I’m going or who I’m going to talk to, but I have to get away from this, if even for a moment.
Taryn pops into my mind, and I decide that’s where I’ll go. I could use a friend right now, and hopefully she can too.
Movement No. 19
Yasmeena
Iwant Tempest—more of whatever that just was. I don’t know how long these feelings have been festering inside me, but they’ve become an undeniable truth.
She’s attractive, sure, I’ve thought that from the start, but it’s deeper than that. It’s this chemistry that lingers in the air between us, and the way our bodies move with such expert precision. I don’t necessarily alwayslikeTempest, but I want her in the most primal ways imaginable.
I’m just glad I read her correctly. It’s clear that Tempest has walls up and she’s not willing to let anyone in, which is totally fine by me. But I want to enjoy myself. I think we both deserve a little fun while we attempt to stop the war waging between our peoples.
If we’re going to have to continue pretending to be in love, we can at least drink our fill of each other.
Sitting at the table beside Absinthe and Reina, we wait for Gemma and Draven to return. Gone is my shower orgasm-haze, my mind now stuck in an endless loop of political agreements and battles brewing.
“You confirmed Roxanne’s death was performed by a memberof Pack Caliban—did we ever learn who?” Reina asks from across from me.
“Negative. Alpha Ferdinand states it was an unsanctioned kill, but he would not give me or any of the felion details about the member. He claims it was handled in-house,” I say, and she nods.
“Do you think they actually killed him?” Absinthe asks, a wild gleam in her eyes.
I shake my head. “Doubt it.”
“They likely exiled him. Anyone you suspect?” Reina cocks her head. “Kevin, maybe?”
“No, I’ve seen him around. One eyewitness reported copper hair, so I’m guessing Phillipe. He hasn’t shown his face in a while.” I shrug and let out a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t want to avenge her?” Reina asks in earnest.
“No, I want this fucking war to end.”
Gemma and Draven storm into the room, sweaty and looking a mess.
Gemma gives us a polite smile before taking her seat next to me. “Sorry! We were busy…”
“Busy fucking?” Reina snorts out a laugh.
“Busy parenting, actually,” Draven retorts.
“Is he going to see you two as parents or guardians?” Absinthe asks.
