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I’m usually notone to complain. As a man not born to a life of privilege, I understand hard work. I understand having to do distasteful tasks for the good of all of us. But this,thisI don’t like.
Why do I have to take Ann home?
Probably because I won’t be able to hear her excuses, her complaints, and what has been described by Dusk and Phantom as whining. Plus, I lost the Rock, Paper, Scissors game, a strange game that we learned from the fae that the others like.
But I’m the only one who doesn’twantto get stuck with her, so how is this fair?
Throughout the night, my headache had woken me up a few times. And each time I’d looked over, either Phantom or Dusk was snuggling with the woman as if they’d already mated her. I knew they hadn’t. But I also expected it had more to do with the fact they’d given her their hearts than anything else.
“Hey, we both know you don’t like me, so why not just let me go?” She had stopped walking and turned so that I could read the question on her lips.
It’s strange. Most of the shadow beasts took time to figure out that they could communicate with me, both with their hands and by letting me read their lips. They would turn away from me while talking, and then realize I hadn’t “heard” most of what they’d said. But this Ann had picked up on the fact too quickly.
Which makes it harder to ignore her.
I point to the path back to our smaller cave with my free hand, then tuck the small package I’m carrying beneath my arm.
She glares, and I don’t need to read her lips to know what she’s thinking. But still, the delightful woman slowly mouths the word, “Ass.”
I smirk at her, trying not to admire her attitude. “Walk,” I mouth right back.
Flipping that ponytail over her slender shoulders, she lets it fall back along her spine and continues marching in front of me. Yeah, march. Be mad. Because Ireallywant to be babysitting you right now. Even while the angry thoughts enter my mind, my treacherous gaze goes to her ass. Ann is not as lean as our women, but I find her shapely rear end surprisingly pleasant.
If she wasn’t her, and I wasn’t trying to save the world…
But no, those kinds of thoughts would get me nowhere. From a young age I had discovered that few people could be trusted. Most would slit your throat in your sleep for something you’d willingly give them. My own mother sold me at just a few years old.
I still remember her smile as she shoved me toward the captain and said goodbye over her shoulder. She tossed that bag of coins up and down as she walked away, whistling. There wasn’t even a hug, not even in our final moment together. Just a sense that I would never see her again.
Most kids would have followed her, but I knew that wouldn’t matter. My mom had wanted to be rid of me, and she had. And this Ann? She wants to be rid of me too. Eventually, I’m sure she’ll be successful.
My gaze returns to her. She’s still walking with purpose--fast with strides as long as her legs allow--but it’s not quite enough to keep up with me.
Sighing, I move around her and see her lips form the word, “Ass,” again.
Fine, at least the feeling is mutual.
I try to remain three steps ahead of her now. It seems to quicken our pace through the woods, although every time I look back, I see that she’s struggling to keep up with me. I try to not feel bad about it. If she wants to survive out here, she’ll need to get faster and stronger.
But deep down I know I’m not walking ahead of her just to get her in fighting shape. It’s as much to find danger before it finds her as it is so I don’t have to pretend to care that she’s huffing and puffing. Every once in a while, I see a tear that trails down her cheeks. Each one rips my heart out, until I force myself to stop looking behind me.
Feeling sorry for her, growing attached to her, accomplishes nothing.
I stiffen when I sense something behind me and freeze when I see that she’s hurried up to me. Her hand is outstretched, as if she planned to touch me. “I need to rest,” she mouths.
I shake my head. No, we can’t rest. But I could carry her. I sign that back to her, then realizing she’s not understanding me, sign more slowly, pointing from her to my shoulder.
“Not a chance!” she mouths, and I can tell by her face that she’s mad. “I don’t want you touching me.”
Oh, really? She doesn’t want me touching her? Fine, then she can enjoy the rest of our walk.
Spinning on my heel, I keep marching, only briefly glancing back to see her dragging herself along behind me.
The truth is, as much as I hate it, all she has to do to make this thing right is agree to mate with us, to form a bond. It’s not like we’re going to sacrifice her in some religious virgin ceremony. I mean, I don’t know the exact ceremonial procedure, if there even is one, but I highly doubt we’re sacrificing our light fae to save the world. At least, that doesn’t really make sense in the grand scheme.
Because even though I don’t want her as my mate and I don’t want to focus on this sulky woman, if what the elder had said was true, that accepting the mate bond could end this war with us as the victors, I would accept the mate bond and move on.
I’d decided it in the cave. But now, I’m rethinking my decision.Is winning the war really worth dealing with her?I don’t really mean it, any price is worth defeating the Shadow King, but I am frustrated as hell.
