Chapter 14
Rue
Weeks of bland days pass with more quiet moments than I’d prefer. My days consist of tending the garden with my mother, washing our few garments of clothing, and finding nuts and berries to eat. I have too much time to lie in my bed and remember the perfect lines of a face I need to forget.
Not only his face but his body, too. Nakedness isn’t shocking to me. The Alphas weren’t shy after shifting. I was never particularly impressed by any of their bodies, though. As much as I hate to admit it and despite my fear of the fae, I was taken with what I saw.
Alphas are big and broad, with muscles growing on top of muscles. The fae stood even taller than an Alpha but with a leaner frame. His muscles looked just as powerful, but they flowed across his body like a calm rapid instead of the choppy, towering waves of an Alpha’s. Just as impressive, but less intimidating.
Though his body tempted my eyes, I kept them away from the part he used to violate me. I didn’t want to see his weapon of choice. But now, even though I hate him for what he did to me, I actually regret not looking. I’m dying to know what a knotless cock capable of satisfying a heat looks like.
It’s stupid. I don’t even want to remember him. But I’m so bored. The brief memories that flash through my mind are the only exciting parts of my day. What makes it worse is that they’re not just of his stunning looks. I have memories of being aroused and hearing my own sounds of pleasure.
Ugh. I need to get my head straight. If those bits are real, it was just the heat that made me enjoy them. There could be awful memories lost forever to the heat.
Still… I feel I deserve to at least enjoy the good ones. Shouldn’t I get to take something good away from what happened?
The memories are incomplete, though. It’s like having flour, water, and salt but no yeast to make the bread rise. There’s nothing for my mind to truly feast on. I’m forced to survive on the crumbs. It’s maddening, but I’ll admit that it passes the time fairly well.
At first, when I made it back to the safety of my new home, I was glad I didn’t remember the mating. I didn’t want to know if he had hurt me or mocked me. But now that I know there were pleasurable moments, I’d give anything to remember more. My curiosity is incessant. So many questions float around in my under-stimulated brain.
Did he kiss me? I touch my lips as if I could find any trace of him still there.
Was he affected by my slick like an Alpha would be? Was it repelling to him as a fae? Did I try to please him, or did he just take from me the entire time?
I growl at myself and storm out of the hut. Why do I care so much? He used me. That’s not anything to be swooning over. It’s pathetic. I’ve latched onto the only exciting thing that’s happened since we left our pack. My idle mind has turned a dangerous, degrading encounter into something exciting. I can’t allow my boredom to invite him back inside me, even just my brain.
The fae is dangerous. He hasn’t come for me yet, but he still may. It might just be taking him a while to find me since this place is so well-hidden. I can’t let my guard down, no matter how bored I might be.
I hear my mother behind the hut, tending the garden she planted. We now have herbs and a few fruits and vegetables safely growing inside our protective walls. We’ll get the other things we need from the market when we need them. Maybe in a year or so, we can move on and find a new pack. A better one.
It’ll be comfortable and safe here until then. I’ll just need to find a way to keep things interesting. If I don’t, thoughts of that fae will fester in my head and devour what’s left of my withering brain.
Maybe I just need to be more productive. We often gather berries from the bush outside the thicket. I decide to get some for us to eat later. I stop in front of our hidden entrance and listen closely to make sure nothing is lurking around. When I’m sure it’s clear, I slip outside. As I move toward the berry bush, I notice a cloth bundle nestled beneath the thorny stems that wasn’t there before.
My heart stops. Instinct screams at me to run back inside to my mother. But the burn of adrenaline and pounding in my chest are exhilarating. It’s a break from the endless monotony, and I need it. Nothing could stop me from giving in to my curiosity right now.
I crouch in front of the bush and look around again to make sure no one’s watching. Then, I reach out a shaky hand to retrieve the bundle. This is foolish. It could be spelled. It could be cursed.
I really couldn’t care less.
I carefully pull it out, wincing as I snag the cloth on the plant’s thorns. I pull back the flaps one at a time and can’t help my grin when I see what’s inside. It’s not the dried meats we desperately need or the nuts and grain we’re low on that excite me. It’s the elegant pink soap and luxurious, pale-blue washing cloth fit for the queen herself.
Everything else drops to the ground as I take the cloth in both hands and glide it across my cheek. It’s every bit as soft as it looks. I run my finger across the delicate purple vines stitched into the corners, sighing to find that the threads are made of silk. Could I actually use this beautiful thing to wash dirt and sweat away? It seems too perfect to even touch. It’s by far the nicest thing I’ve ever held in my hands.
There’s more to it than that, though. All shifters are sensitive to smells, not just Alphas. I don’t need to lift the cloth to my nose to notice the fae’s warm scent lingering in the fibers. But I do it anyway, drawing in as much of it as I can. Chills race across my skin as I remember waking up happy in the cave, surrounded by this very scent.
His blue hair was so mussed up, like I’d been gripping it for hours. But his face was flawless, like he’d just touched up his perfect glamour. Smooth bronze skin, a sharp jaw, and full, wide lips, slightly parted to give me a peek of his straight, white teeth. I find myself offended by the perfection of his face, feeling the need to muss it up, too.
I should be angry at the fae’s smell. He took advantage of me. He used my body and probably isn’t finished toying with me. But I’m too stimulated by his scent to focus on any of that. I just want to keep feeling so alive.
I look up, half expecting to see bright blue eyes peering at me from within the trees. But the forest is empty. There’s only me and this unexpected gift.
Mother calls out for me from the other side of the thicket. My stomach tightens as I realize how foolish I’ve been. This gift means the fae knows where we are, and he may have known for weeks! He might have been plotting against me this entire time. His plan could start with these offerings.
We need the supplies. I want the stupid cloth. But I can’t take them. I’d have to tell Mother the truth about my heat. She’d never accept the gifts. She’d make us leave. But if the fae found me once, he’ll find me again. This is the safest place we will ever stumble across. There’s no reason to trade it for somewhere we’re more vulnerable to everything else… only to have him return. Leaving would be a mistake, and Mother would surely make us go.
I shove the bundle back under the bush. A pang of loss hits at me as I notice a hint of blue peeking from between the leaves. The washing cloth was beautiful. Perfect in every way. But I won’t lie to myself. I don’t want it for its beauty. I want it for the scent it carries. For the thrill. For that small piece of my missing memories.
But I can’t accept anything from him. It could send a message that would end up hurting my mother. Perhaps, if I ignore the gift, he’ll lose interest. I turn and stomp back through the thicket as bitterness overtakes my heart. I wish he’d left me to my heat. I would have forgotten the pain. Now, I’m forced to live with the resentment and confusion he’s dumped on my head.
I find my mother still behind the hut and chat numbly with her until she becomes distracted. There’s nothing left to do but lie down on my narrow bed, hoping sleep will come soon to pass the time. Once Mother thinks it’s safe, we can start a new life somewhere else. Hopefully, it will be before the fae comes up with something harder to resist.