Chapter 14
Ifucking came.
I’m dazed and still reeling from the entire experience. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before—I don’t even understand how it happened.
I wasn’t thinking about sex at all when I climbed up onto the trunk. I was nervous, and already half-regretting everything that led me up to this point.
I was sure the bite would be painful, and I had to brace myself for that agony and try to remember why I’m doing this.
Returning to Vernallis is not an option, I have to find out if my mother and sister are here, and if staying with the wolves is the best way to do that, then I’m willing to put myself through almost anything—even pretending to be bonded to Fox.
I could tell that Fox was uncomfortable too, but willing, which made it somehow easier.
If he was strongly opposed, or even disgusted by pretending to be my bond—or, “mate”—then it would have felt different.
After the other night, my pride never would have let me go through with it.
He doesn’t want to be with me, and I have too much self-respect to beg or keep seeking out his attention.
But since we both understand that this is no more than a safety precaution…
He gripped my hair, tilting my head for better access and I closed my eyes.
I was expecting pain, so I was shocked when a sudden, intense orgasm tore through my entire body. I’m not sure I’ve ever come that hard before, and he wasn’t even touching me. I can only imagine what it would feel like if we had been…
Never mind.
What’s done is done, and now I should be safe to remain here for the next few weeks until it’s time to go to the castle.
Unfortunately, there might be more complications to our pretend bonding—sorry, “mating”—than just the bite mark.
There’s only one bed in this tent, and not a very large one at that. Worse, the tent is only one room, which means that things as simple as changing my clothes could become awkward. I’m terrified to even ask about the bathing facilities, doubting I will like the answer.
Fox and I barely talk again until it’s time to leave for dinner. He takes a seat at the wooden table, crosses his arms and closes his eyes. Clearly, he isn’t as bothered as I am by not having anything to amuse himself. I wish I had brought books or something from home.
Maybe the previous owners of this tent had something to read. Is it appropriate to rifle through the belongings of a dead couple? It seems a little callous, but after another half hour of monotonous silence, I decide that my need is greater than the previous owners and get up to search the trunk.
To my dismay, all I find in there is some extra armor, which looks like it belonged to a relatively tall woman, and various pairs of men’s shirts and trousers.
There is also some soap and a few tattered towels, a couple of bowls and spoons, and an extra blanket, but no books or cards or anything that might help pass the time.
Fox opens one eye. “What are you looking for?”
“Something to do,” I mutter.
He snorts. “Good luck.”
I scowl and slam the trunk shut, crossing the tent again to sit cross-legged on the bed. I grab my potions pouch from the floor next to my satchel and lay it out on the bed, rifling through until I find a small glass bottle.
“What are you doing now?” Fox asks sharply.
I look over to find him watching me. “Putting some healing potion on my throat.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really, I just thought…I don’t know, I just wanted to be doing something.”
His eyes flash darker, but otherwise his expression doesn’t change. “Don’t. If you heal it I’ll have to do it again.”
Oh. Right.
I sigh, and put the potion back into the satchel, then flop onto my back on the bed.
As I stare at the ceiling, Eugene climbs out of my satchel and crawls up the edge of the quilt to climb into my lap.
I pet his head absently, but I don’t say anything as I feel strange talking to the squirrel when Fox is right there, listening.
I’m starving by the time Fox announces we need to go to dinner, and despite my nervousness I’m more than ready to go.
I reach for my red cloak, but Fox stops me. “Leave it.”
“Why?”
He taps his own neck with two fingers and my eyes widen. Oh. He wants to make sure everyone can see the bite. I supposed that makes sense, but my stomach still turns over.
Fox finally stands up from the chair, where he’s been sitting all afternoon, and strides toward the tent. He reaches out to push the flap open, then pauses, as if suddenly remembering something. He swears under his breath.
“What?” I ask, nervously.
He glances back at me, eyes shifting back and forth. “Is the…thing you did still up?”
“The muffling—”
He clears his throat, cutting me off with a look. “Is it?”
“Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He looks caught between relief and frustration. “You can’t keep doing that.”
“First of all, I don’t know how anyone would know.”
“Magic has a smell,” he says flatly. “They’ll notice,”
I raise my eyebrows. “What?”
“It’s kind of metallic. Like blood.”
“Well, since this is a war camp don’t you think—”
“Just don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, but I don’t know what the problem is. Surely we would talk to each other sometimes, they can’t possibly find that suspicious.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, looking suddenly exhausted. “That’s what I forgot to tell you. If we were really mates, you could hear me in your head.”
I blanch. “Well then…don’t they already know we’re lying? I can’t hear any of them.”
“Not them, just me. We shouldn’t need to talk at all, so if we are…”
Oh no. This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
Ileave Eugene in the tent, because I’m not sure how the wolves will react to him.
I’m not sure I needed to worry though, because I’m surprised that when we arrive at dinner, there are no actual wolves in sight.
If I didn’t know better, I would think I was standing in a camp of Fae soldiers—or perhaps even humans.
“Why is no one transformed?” I ask Fox.
He shoots me a deadly glare and doesn’t answer. I roll my eyes. This is never going to work. I don’t know how I’m supposed to pretend that we’re communicating telepathically when we’re not. Is dinner going to be entirely silent?
The answer to that question turns out to be yes…mostly.
Fox leads the way through the rings of tents to the center of the camp where an enormous bonfire rages in the middle of a stone-ringed pit.
There are eight or nine soldiers whose job seems to be to turn spits of meat, grease sizzling into the coals.
Around them, dozens of wolves eat together, some gathered around low wooden tables, while others sit cross-legged on logs and stumps, bowls balanced on their knees.
Despite the large crowd—there are forty, perhaps fifty soldiers in all—the only sounds are the crackle of the bonfire, and the occasional snort of laughter.
Fox nudges me and points toward his friend Kai, who is sitting at one of the largest tables on the other side of the fire. At the same moment, Kai spots us and jumps to his feet. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Fox!”
His shout cuts through the eerie silence like a knife. Heads whip in our direction, eyes narrowing, and nostrils flaring. Kai acts as if he doesn’t notice, waving us over to him.
Fox leads the way, and I stay close behind him, trying not to react to all the eyes on us.
As we pass, a woman with a scar across her jaw leans toward her companion, and widens her eyes pointedly.
A man with shoulders like boulders crosses his arms, his gaze never leaving my face.
A child points, only to have his hand slapped down by his mother.
Over and over again I see people tapping their throats with two fingers, the same way Fox and Kai did in the alphas tent.
My hand flies unconsciously to my throat.
“They really don’t seem to like outsiders,” I mutter.
“It’s not outsiders, it’s Fae,” Fox replies, loud enough that I’m sure everyone can hear him. A few women sitting near us look away, seeming embarrassed.
I force myself to smile, as if I have no idea how uncomfortable this is. At least the alpha seems happy to see us—or to see Fox, at least.
“Meet my boys,” Kai says with unmistakable pride, gesturing toward the crowd of blonde boys around the table.
“You’ve met Finan—he’s the oldest—and then this is Axel, Janson, Einar.
” He points out each boy as he says their name.
One grins at us, flashing a missing front tooth.
“—that’s Aeric on the end—” he points to a child who can’t be more than four but has a knife the length of his arm strapped to his tiny leather belt.
“—and over there is my daughter, Skai,” he points across the clearing toward a nearby table where a baby is bouncing on a woman’s lap.
“And their mother, Inga,” he adds, seemingly as an afterthought.
At the sound of her name, a woman with copper-colored hair and a baby on her lap glances back toward us. The woman’s eyes meet mine for a heartbeat, her lips curving upward before she turns back to the woman beside her, their heads tilted together in that peculiar silent exchange.
Seeming unconcerned, Kai jabs his elbow into one of his son’s ribs, making the child yelp and scoot along the bench to make room for Fox and I. Kai pats the worn wooden space beside him. “Sit.”
Fox settles in first, and I squeeze between them.
I glance around, unsure if we’re supposed to get up to get our own food or if it will be served to us. Growing up in Vernallis, Beatrix and I didn’t have servants, but now that Daemon and Alix have set up their court at the estate all our meals are served to us.
Before I can ask, one of Kai’s sons—the one with the missing front tooth—appears in front of me and tries to hand me a wooden bowl. I smile, reaching out to take it from him, but Fox’s hand shoots out and intercepts it before I can.