Chapter 9 #2
It might have helped if she’d mentioned Nash by name and explained their connection, but she got distracted watching him weave in the daisies she’d collected, only to remove them again immediately.
Jodi retrieved them and made them into a necklace.
It gave her something to do with her hands that didn’t involve touching him.
“Here you go. I think I’ve got it the right size.”
Paul knelt to place it on her head. Jodi put the daisy chain around his neck as a thank you.
He stood back to admire her. “Now you look like a faerie queen.”
“Waiting for my knight to appear. It’s always knights they marry, ain’t it?” She stood and did a little twirl and gave a curtsy.
Paul nodded his approval. “Not sure about elven knights, mind. They’re wily buggers. All the songs agree on that.” He started singing one she didn’t know the words to, full of longing and loss and rich with meaning. Even sung in his somewhat off-key tenor it raised goosebumps across her skin.
“What are you seeing?” she asked him a little while later. They’d moved over nearer to the track uphill at her behest. His gaze kept darting in the direction of the standing stones, while hers focused downhill.
“Ah…” He wagged a finger at her. “You have the means of determining that right here in your crown.” He plucked a bunch of mushrooms from the assemblage and almost had them in his mouth before she stayed his arm.
“Not sure you need anymore.”
He considered; lips pursed. “I remember you. You like contradicting me. Jodi Castle, the girl with heavenly thighs, wandering hands, and an inferiority complex.”
“Nice to know what you think of me.”
“Just saying what I see, but go ahead, tell me I’m projecting.”
“Are you?” In response he brought the mushrooms to his lips again. Jodi redirected his hand and bit the heads off them, leaving him with just the stalks. “What’s shitting on your parade, Paul Reed?”
“Well, there’s this girl I know who’s getting hitched…” He watched her chew. Damn, these things were bitter. “Nah…Just the usual. You know how it is. Sometimes pernicious little hobgoblins come and hang out on your shoulders and fuck your shit up.”
“Is your shit fucked up?”
“Evidently not as fucked up as yours.”
“Mine isn’t fucked up at all. Things are great. I’m getting married.”
“Your shit is fucked. I can see your aura.”
“My what?”
He squinted so that one eye closed completely, then focused just right of her ear. “Yup, it’s totally emo—pink, but like shot through with black.”
It was? He was probably just hallucinating, although, honestly, he wasn’t being much different to how he’d been the previous time they’d met.
“What colour is yours?”
“You tell me?” He offered her another mushroom, and then his flask. “A little boom-boom to wash it down. Probably green. It’s usually green, sometimes orange.”
Jodi swallowed, attempting to wash away the foulness that lingered on her tongue.
Not that the boom-boom tasted much better.
And if she’d expected the world to burst into colours, then she was sadly disappointed.
If he had an aura, she couldn’t see it. “What is that?” she complained of the flask’s contents.
“Absinthe.”
“Fucking hell, you’re like a one-man party. Isn’t that stuff illegal?”
“Nope that’s a myth, and I happen to like aniseed. Damn, I could go for some nice aniseed balls. Did you ever have them as a kid?”
“Can’t say as I did.”
“Bit like mini gobstoppers. Tough on the teeth. Nicer than chewing sticks.”
“Huh?”
“Liquorice…liquorice sticks. Not the same but they taste similar. You’ve never had one of those either? Woman, you’ve been living under a rock. Say, is that why I couldn’t find you? Should I have turned over more rocks?”
Had he been looking for her? If so, why? The cats, probably.
She was past the point in her life where she needed the likes of Paul Reed to swoop in and save her. Things were on track. Nash’s band was on the rise. The stars had aligned. She wouldn’t be spending next winter outdoors huddled under canvas… They’d have a home, somewhere safe and dry…
Wait, was that what she wanted? When she thought of Nash’s place, all white walls and guy furniture she felt like a cat trapped in Schrodinger’s box waiting to find out if it was alive or dead. Why did nobody ever ask the cat? She’d often wondered Surely, it knew.
In any case, she was going to be The Ghost Boys’ Girl Friday and tour the laundrettes of the world.
“You okay, Castle? You’re looking a bit wan.”
“Fine. How long is your tour?”
He shrugged. “Not sure, another six to eight months, maybe? It has legs. More legs than it probably needs, and it’s not like there’s any real down time between them, or any decent pussy nestled there like there is between yours.”
“What?” His logic was hard to follow. What had legs to do with her pussies?
“All I’m saying is that I hope he appreciates you.”
Of course he did, if they were talking about Nash.
Were they talking about Nash? Why did she feel like someone was walking over her grave?
Maybe she was just cold. That was probably it.
It was late. The sun had turned in hours ago.
She didn’t have a coat on, not even a jumper.
Nor did her companion, but he didn’t seem to be affected by the elements.
Nothing ever seemed to faze him. He just took everything in his long-legged stride.
Why did part of her want to grab him by the hand and yell lets go on a bear hunt together?
There weren’t even bears in the UK. Maybe they could hunt a Gruffalo instead.
They lived in the woods. The woods were right over there.
But no, wait… she had to be somewhere. Running off with him wasn’t an option.
It was a fact that one did not marry the goblin king… Except, Sarah should have.
Damn, what time was it. She managed to locate her phone. Thirteen o’clock. No, that wasn’t right. Twelve thirteen. Shit, she was late. Nash must have engaged stealth mode and slipped right past her.
Why did her legs feel so leaden? Her centre of gravity swished from side to side as she started making her way uphill.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“Feel a bit sick,” she said.
“Normal when you’re nervous.” Her giant slung an enormous, tattooed arm around her shoulders.
The action crushed her to his side and swaddled her in warmth and that gorgeous earthy scent of his.
It was almost impossible not to feel fine when he cuddled her in this way, so warm and…
happy. She was happy. This man, he always protected her.
Protected her with his big giant body and made her feel good with his rock-hard cock.
**
The standing stones came into view. Grey stooped pillars in a ring like a dozen cowled figures.
Why were they here? That’s right, she was meeting Nash.
She loved Nash. Where was Nash? Had he come and left already?
She slipped free of Paul’s hold to dart around the circle of stones in search of her betrothed, in case he was concealed behind them, but a full loop of the circumference failed to locate him.
“I can’t find him,” she said, taking hold of both of Rock Giant’s hands. He had a ring on his thumb, that she ran her thumb tip against. It wasn’t cold like metal usually was. “I guess I just wait, right?”
“It’s one option.”
**
“You’re the last pair,” the man said. He had a crabby face and funny forked beard and a moustache like a man out of a fantasy movie, only taller.
Everyone seemed to have grown really tall today.
Her neck got a crick in it each time she looked up, so she looked down instead. The grass was pretty, and very green.
“If you’re going ahead, it needs to be now.” Fantasy man looked pointedly at his watch as he spoke.
Jodi couldn’t quite recall what the delay had been about, but sure if he needed them to get on with it now, that was okay.
What was it they were doing?
Vows. That was it.
She’d been having trouble fathoming out what to say. The guy went first though, right? So, she could wing it based on what he said to her. That’s what she’d do. “I’m ready,” she told moustache man.
Damn, she wished she could focus properly.
Time kept jumping around and there were colours swarming around the standing stones like tiny luminescent insects.
They were very distracting. Not as distracting as the sounds though.
Whenever anyone spoke, she could taste their words like they were putting them right on her tongue.
She kept trying to wipe them off, but ribbons held her wrist in place, and whatever she was tied to was as immovable as one of those standing stones.
“Your turn,” someone prompted.
Turn tasted of oranges. All zesty and sharp. She figured that was what sunshine probably tasted of, too. It was night right now. She wasn’t sure what night tasted of. Someone was talking a great deal about hands and that kept overwhelming the taste of night.
“Jodi…”
“Yes,” she said.
“Jodi…”
“Yes.” Maybe he hadn’t heard her over the taste of hands. “Yes.”
Hands tasted of Armagnac.
“May this knot remain tied for as long as love shall last. May the vows you have spoken never grow bitter in your mouths. Hold tight to one another through good times and bad and watch as your strength grows. In the joining of hands and the fashioning of a knot, so are your lives now bound.