Verena #2
"I'd rather not," I grimace, thinking we're still talking about Rhinestone.
The second Snow White's face falls ever so slightly, I realize I misread her question.
Queen Rhinestone was clearly checked out of all queenly responsibilities, let alone having any interest in her stepchild. From Snow White's reaction earlier, it seems like she pretty much never spoke to this poor girl.
The princess is really asking if I'll be the kind of guardian she hasn't had yet.
"Oh! Yeah. Sure, I can take you under my wing for a bit," I amend.
"Really?" Snow White's entire face lights up with a smile, her blue eyes sparkling.
Wow. Yep, that's just how a fairytale princess should look. What a cutie patootie.
"Really, really. So long as you call me Verena or Vera or even just hey you, because Stepmother is way too formal and stuffy for me," I add.
"Absolutely! I'll call you Vera," she gushes, clasping her hands together in excitement. Then she grows abruptly serious, tipping her head thoughtfully. "The Huntsman was very kind to me while helping to hide me from the real queen. He seems like a good man, and he's quite handsome."
"Hello, topic change," I laugh. "Look, of course you're allowed to think older guys are nice and handsome—but Snow, you're seventeen. The Huntsman looks a little older than me, so he's probably in his thirties. You're way too young for him, but there will be other Wulfs your age later on."
Snow White is scandalized. "I have no interest in him, nor he in me! I only thought…well, to start, do you have someone you care deeply for in your world? A true love, I mean? Is that why you're so eager to return home?"
I've almost forgotten Eris is here until he moves to the mirror across from me, as if to see my face better. His jaw is clenched.
When I frown slightly at him to nonverbally ask what the deal is, he makes an impatient motion.
"Well? Answer the princess already. There's something you should know, but I'll wait until this conversation is over with."
Who pissed in his Cheerios today?
A completely rhetorical question, since I've never seen him eat or sleep or anything else remotely human.
My attention returns to Snow White. "Nope, I'm a chronically single hermit in my world."
I leave out that I mostly want to get home to avoid dancing to death as the evil queen at her future wedding.
Even if she and I seem to get along, what if this mysterious fairy tale world somehow forces me into the queen's awful ending sooner or later, no matter how much I change the queen's reputation?
Magic is real here, so why wouldn't fate be real, too?
Thanks, but no thanks. I'd much rather survive and go back to the peace and safety of my little studio apartment.
Snow White lights up again. "Then, if my prayer did not bring you here, perhaps the Three Crones or even the great Matron goddess herself brought you here to meet the Huntsman! Maybe he is meant to be your true love!"
Oh, balls. I see I have a hopeless romantic on my hands.
I doubt the powerful beings of this world brought me here just for a fucked-up meet-cute with a terrifying beast of a man via abduction and torture. But before I can tell Snow White that, there's a strong knock on the door of the solar.
"Verena?" Wulf's resonant voice calls.
"Speak of the fucking devil," I grumble.
Snow gets a little round-eyed at my language, but whispers excitedly, "See? He was looking for you. Is that not romantic?"
"We really need to raise your bar for what constitutes romance."
As I move toward the door, reaching for the handle, Eris calls out in a confusingly now-chipper tone.
"About that thing you should know, Fairest. The Huntsman was just taking care of a little pest and may have gotten nicked by a knife—"
His voice and everything else in the world cut out when the door swings open and a mouthwatering aroma hits me so hard, I have to grip the door to stay upright as the rest of the world sways.
Blackberries and wild mint.
Invigorating, tart, brisk, sweet…
Irresistible.
Wulf is saying something to me, his ice-colored gaze gentle on my face.
But all I can look at is the red-stained bandage wrapped around one of his thick forearms. A visceral need overtakes my senses, wrenching control from me and making my teeth ache—until, all at once, I'm grabbing the Huntsman by his arm and towing him away from the solar.
The thirst is excruciating. It burns me from the inside out.
I can't think. I can only march down a set of stairs and through another corridor, desperate to find somewhere we won't be spotted.
The other blood I've smelled in this world seems laughable now. That was like hearing the distant rumblings of thunder compared to getting struck by a fucking bolt of lightning.
"Verena?" I hear the Huntsman ask from what feels like far away.
I spy an alcove off this hallway. It offers some privacy, but at this point, I almost don't even fucking care anymore.
I pull the Huntsman into it—and by pull, I mean Wulf follows because I'm pretty sure I could get a running start charging at this man and still not knock him over if he didn't want it.
Once we're under the arched stone beside a shadowed window, I grip the edge of the bandage around his arm. Mint and blackberries coalesce around me, potent and bold as my universe seems to zero in on the bloodied bandage.
It takes three tries to swallow. I barely recognize my voice as I pull hard on the thin fabric.
"Take this off."
Wulf obeys at once, starting to carefully unravel the bandages with his other hand.
Damn it, of course, he's doing as I say. I almost forgot again that he has to obey everything I tell him.
Realizing how easily I could abuse that power, I reach out to stop his hands, squeezing my eyes shut as I fight the growing urge.
"Stop. Stop. You shouldn't do that," I rasp.
"Why?"
Because I don't want to want this.
But I need it. I'm on fire, and he smells so fucking delicious.
What is wrong with you? He's a person, not a three-course meal.
Desperate to focus on literally anything else, I release Wulf and pace for a moment. I end up bracing my hands on my knees, breathing in and out through my mouth to try alleviating the dizziness.
It's no good. The scent of crisp mint and ripe blackberries is still overwhelming.
Straightening, I try not to look at Wulf's arm and immediately fail.
"I need a distraction," I groan.
"That's not what you need, and you know it," Eris says, appearing in the reflection of the window beside us. He looks at Wulf. "Just unwrap your arm. I don't know why she's fighting it this hard yet again."
"Fuck off," I scowl at him, trying to hang onto any kind of control. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine, you're suffering. Ignoring the thirst is a fool's errand."
"Thirst…" the Huntsman repeats in a low tone, perplexed.
I see the instant he puts things together, looking between his injured arm and the way I'm endeavoring to make myself back away.
But instead of getting chills, being disgusted, or pulling out his axe to chop off my head, Wulf just rips through the rest of his bandages quickly. He extends his arm.
"Here," he says simply. "Take all you need."
A thumb-length cut near the crease of his elbow is already starting to seep again. The scarlet drips, rolling over his flesh, gleaming as it floods the air with more delicious, minty berry that I just—
I snap.