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The howl stopped, followed by Marco’s voice, “Valk, Valk, Vaaalk!”
Valen’s head rubbed softly against mine as he muttered, “Fucking fucker…”
With what seemed like an effort, he pushed away from me and turned to face Marco, who was sauntering into view like he was dancing his way through the woods with nary a care in the world. He looked like some sort of fae gone wrong. No, not wrong, just less the Disney version and very much the darker, drunken, traditional fae image. He had a bottle in one hand and a knife in the other. He vibed danger and, like all the Angels, treacherous temptation. It was almost lucky that Valen was there so Marco paled in comparison, even to my drunken and highly sexually excited brain.
“Well, what do we have here?” Marco asked happily, waving his bottle around.
“What are you doing?” Valen asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“Me?” Marco asked innocently as he slid the knife back into its sheath. “Nothing. I’m just off on a stroll through the woods on this pleasant evening. Making sure no one’s getting into trouble. But I see the princess is under control.”
They squared off against each other and I watched the silent exchange pass between them. I didn’t know what it contained, and I didn’t need to know.
“She needed a reminder of her place,” Valen said carefully.
Marco nodded. “I saw.” He looked past Valen and waggled his finger at me. “Naughty. And we can’t have that. But, if the punishment is complete, I am going to need the wolf for something less…savoury.”
Valen’s whole stance changed. “What?”
“God fancies himself the vengeful sort tonight.”
Valen looked back to me. “Go back to the fire.”
I frowned. “I think I’m done for the night.”
“Get back to the fire.”
Valen’s voice brooked no argument. It was bossy and forceful, but different than usual. It sounded important. Not just a useless order that I was just expected to blindly obey so he could flex his superiority.
So, I nodded. “Okay.”
“Find Florence and get back to your room,” Valen added.
“What’s–?”
“Just do it, Harlow!” he snapped.
I blinked at the force of his voice, but I nodded again. “Okay. Okay.”
Valen started pulling his gun from its holster, seemed to rethink and held it out to Marco. Marco took it and, like they could read each other’s mind, handed over his knife.
“See she gets back. Stay with them if you need to.”
Marco nodded, tucked the gun in his waistband at his back, and saluted his lieutenant.
Valen stalked off through the night, leaving me cold and shivering without his warmth.
“Come on, then,” Marco said cheerfully.
“What’s happened, Marco?” I asked him, starting to follow him back to the fire.
“Nothing you need worry your pretty little head about, missus. Valk will sort it like the good little tame wolf he is.”
I felt like there was a message there, but I’d had too much to drink and was still replaying those last few moments with Valen in my head to really pay attention to him.
Marco helped me find Florence and saw us back to our room, where of course I told her everything that happened.
Whatever had happened after Valen walked away would forever remain conjecture. The only hint that something had gone down was the cut and bruise that Valen sported on his cheek the next day and the way his glare seemed stormier than usual. Apollo looked a bit worse for wear, like he did after a night of heavy drinking, but was otherwise as pristine as ever.
