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“Crotchety?”
“Tell me how you really feel,” he mutters.
I bite back a laugh. “Hey, if you’re Grumpy, that means you’re the lucky one. You get me, an arguably perfect woman, and I get Grumpy.”
“Good thing it’s a story then, eh?”
A little bit of my joy deflates. “Yeah, totally fictional” I say around a yawn. “I’m going to sleep.” I roll over and pull the blanket up to my chin, hiding my hurt sadness as best I can. Part of why I love, love stories is because of the complete and utter lack of love in my life. It was nice to imagine myself as sunshine, if only for a moment. My chest aches, that stupid organ inside of it desperate for love. Sometimes it’s so painfully obvious why I never had a boyfriend. I’m always over eager. I’m always waiting to fall. I should know by now that won’t happen for me.
Silence settles in the room, thick and uncomfortable. Minutes tick by, and I begin to regret telling that story. I should have stuck to something safe, like an arranged marriage or a stalker. It was dumb to think that whatever is happening between us would be anything like the books I enjoy. The ogre may like my vagina, but that’s a far cry from actually caring about me.
The bed shifts and Orcus’ fingers graze over my back. He drags them all the way down and then slowly back up my spine.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, voice shakier than it should be.
“Scratching your back before bed.”
My stomach flutters as his touch skates over every inch of my back. A bit of warmth seeps through the bond. He’s trying to comfort me. Embarrassment flushes up my neck. I’d forgotten that the bond is a dirty little snitch and he got a whopping dose of my own self-loathing.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Trust me, Daisy. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” His fingers run up my side, and I wiggle away from the tickle. He chuckles but moves his touch to safer territory. “Go to sleep.”
“Yes, sir.”
He squeezes my side, and I grin into my pillow, relaxing into his touch and accepting his comfort. I shoot a beam of sunshine through the bond, and he releases a soft hum. We may not be in love but there’s something to be said for the butterflies taking flight in my stomach. And if I dream about a certain ogre falling head over heels, it’s merely a coincidence.
TWELVE
The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children
DAISY
Farther away from the mountain, the forest isn’t as thick. There are still plenty of trees, but in the space between each one is lush grass and pretty wildflowers. Dark green vines dotted with violets curl around trunks, and insects buzz, enjoying the warmth. It’s as hot as it was yesterday, and I’m thankful for my makeshift dress.
“We’re close,” Orcus says when he catches me peering up at him. He said the same thing yesterday when we were still a few hours away from the inn.
We’ve been traveling for what feels like two hours, but it could be longer for all I know. Edgar was awake long enough to eat a biscuit for breakfast but he’s fallen asleep again, either from jetlag, the heat, or being bored. Orcus is brooding at the horizon. Ever since the confrontation with Basil, he’s been more moody than usual. It bothers me for some reason. I can handle grumpy, but the emotions pouring down the bond are different. Frustration. Guilt. Sadness.
I rub my chest, hating his inner conflict. “Do you want to talk?”
“About?” he asks, not bothering to glance in my direction.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe how the snake ominously told you that you had responsibilities and couldn’t hide forever, or about you fighting with the king. Or maybe we can chat about the foul mood you’ve been in all morning.”
“I’m not in a foul mood,” he snaps and cuts his navy gaze to me.
I lift an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
He releases a harsh exhale. “Things are complicated.”
I frown. “And why’s that?”
“Because the king would rather put everyone in danger than admit he was wrong.”
“About what?”
His eyes drift to meet mine. “Do you really care? You want to leave.”
