Chapter 27
Maddox
“Let not your heart be governed by hope alone. For hope without action will end in disappointment.”
— A Seelie Proverb
Nia does not wish to be my friend either.
She would like to be more.
More. More. More.
This is not confirmation that she would consider me as a mate, but it is not a denial either. We are in the in-between. A place that I have been before and never managed to escape.
“What does ‘more’ mean to you?” I ask, desperate to know and too wrecked to hide my feelings any longer.
Her brows arch. “What would you like it to mean?”
Everything. “That I can keep holding your hand.” She was right to add this to her list. Holding hands is quite enjoyable. That connection is something I’ve begun to crave each morning and mourn the loss of each night.
“I would like that,” she says.
My heart pounds a little harder, my hands fisted at my sides growing damp with fear. “And if I would like to kiss you?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
My heart is galloping now. I will have to work up to this. At least I know she is open to the idea. Perhaps for the first time in our acquaintance, our goals seem to be the same.
More. More. More.
Now. Now. Now.
I mustn’t rush and scare her away. There will be time . . .
I only hope that her mind does not change before we have had our chance.
The canyon widens, leading to more vegetation and different berries that Nia assures me are safe to eat.
I am still breathing, so the last ones must not have been the poisonous kind.
I do not think a tiny berry would be enough to fell me, but her fear is real, and I made her a promise, so I do not try any of the others until she tells me I am allowed.
The ones she picks are squishy and sour, but between the berries and fish, the gnawing hunger in my stomach quiets.
She was right to scold me for not eating more.
I was so preoccupied with getting her home as quickly as possible that I neglected my own needs.
It would not serve her for me to keel over from starvation, leaving Nia to fend for herself.
After eating many handfuls of sour berries, the world still feels a little hazy, but I push on, keeping close to the canyon walls, searching for signs of the wolves’ trail.
There are many jagged ledges, but none seem to lead anywhere, and most would be impossible to reach without a ladder of some sort.
I am trying to remain positive, but it is difficult when I have not slept in many days.
Something else I must remedy soon.
I can feel my irritation growing like thorns scraping my skin, making my mood as jagged as those ledges.
At least Nia’s dress was dry enough to wear. I do not think I could survive another day of traipsing next to her in her bra. What have I done to deserve such torture? This must be atonement for all the lies I told.
If we escape this place unscathed, I swear I will never tell another lie so long as I live.
No one warns you that spending every waking moment with a female you care for more than life itself but cannot touch will drive you to madness.
Imagine how mad Nolan must feel, having lost Nia Quill. If my hatred for him did not burn so brightly, I would feel sorry.
Nia does not look sorry. She looks determined and beautiful and so strong. Yes, she is a fearsome female indeed.
I wouldn’t say no.
I long to hold her in my arms and introduce her lips to mine, but how does one go from what we are in this moment to more?
If only I knew.
Her small hand squeezes my fingers, and I find her smiling up at me, her lips curved most invitingly. The fear in my blood begins to fade. Would now be a good time for our lips to meet? There is only one way to find out—
“Do you like traveling?” she asks.
I would like to travel from where I stand to where she stands, until our bodies are pressed as tightly as the desire coiling around my throat. To let my lips travel from her mouth to her throat. Lower. To let my hands travel along every hill and valley along her beautiful form.
Unfortunately, I do not think this is the sort of travel she means.
“I enjoy discovering new places and meeting new people, but I also like coming back home.”
For some reason, my response erases her smile and makes her brow furrow.
“Why do you make this face? Do you not like venturing from Rosehill?” Is she afraid that I am unwilling to remain in one place? I would happily stay in the castle gardens with Nia for the rest of my days if she wished it.
“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just wondering why you didn’t go with your parents to see the world.”
Her question stops my thundering heart dead in my chest, replacing desire with dread.
I swear I will never tell another lie so long as I live.
This promise was for after we escape. I can make up a beautiful story about my parents that will make her smile. Wishing it were true is almost the same, isn’t it?
No.
If I want to regain her trust, I must tell her the entire terrible truth.
“I was not invited.”
“Why not?”
This is an excellent question; one that will forever remain unanswered.
“I did not have a chance to ask them. They left while I was on an errand. I came back to my home only to find my home was no longer there.” My entire life has been plagued by the not knowing.
“I can only assume it was because I cried too much. I had just turned four, and—”
She comes to a stop, her hand falling away from mine. “Are you serious?”
This is why I did not want to discuss my life. Because I knew she would look at me with pity and confusion.
She will learn the truth and leave you too.
They always do.
Ever and Gryffin are the only ones who have stayed.
And my Biscuits.
Still, I will not conceal the truth from Nia again.
I have stolen her time and attention before.
If she chooses me, then she should know all of me.
“Oh, yes. I am quite serious. I used to cry all the time. When I would fall or if my stomach hurt.” The berry she told me not to eat was hardly the first I tasted without advisement.
“When I was left alone.” Which happened often because I cried so much and that only made me cry harder. “My parents were very disappointed that the only youngling they were allowed was so broken.” No one else in camp cried nearly as much as me.
“Of course you cried. It’s what children do. The way they communicate.”
“You only say this because you do not appreciate how loudly I could wail. My mother claimed my screams would wake the dead from beyond the veil. She used to plug her ears with cloth so she could sleep.”
Her jaw gapes. She is no doubt in shock from this news. My lungs have always been very strong. “It doesn’t matter if you screamed down the heavens, Maddox. Your parents’ job was to comfort you.”
“You are Seelie; you do not understand. Unseelie parents do not have time for comfort. A father must hunt to keep his family alive. A mother must keep her younglings quiet so the wolves do not find them.” My mother would always remind me of the danger I put us in when my cries were too piercing.
“I understand your lands are dangerous—probably more dangerous than I can imagine—but it was still your parents’ responsibility to take care of you.”
“They did.”
“They abandoned you when you were four!”
“Why are you shouting at me?”
“Because I’m angry. How dare they leave you behind. If I ever have the displeasure of meeting them, I’m going to tell them exactly how awful they are. You deserved someone to take care of you, and I’m sorry you never had that.”
“I learned to take care of myself.” It was difficult at first, mostly because killing to survive made me desperately sad, but I stopped weeping over it. Some small part of me thought maybe my parents would come back and want me again when they saw how little I cried as I grew.
I am still waiting.
“It’s not the same,” she says with a shake of her head.
It is not the same, but—
She throws her arms around my waist, pinning my own arms to my sides. “What are you doing?”
“Hugging you.”
“Why do you do this?”
“Because you need it.” She squeezes a little tighter. “And maybe I need it too.”
I extricate my arms and fold Nia into my embrace. She is correct. I did need this.
The rushing river slows to a lazy crawl as it winds through the canyon. Where does it lead? Is there an end? A beginning?
Nia tightens her grip on my fingers. “Would it be all right if we stopped?”
I am powerless to deny her anything. “Of course. Are your feet hurting?” Her tiny slippers are not made for trekking this sort of terrain, and yet she has not once complained.
“A little. Mostly, I just want to bathe.” Her nose wrinkles. “I feel gross.”
“You could not be gross even if you were covered in fish guts.”
“We really need to work on your compliments.” She says this with a laugh, so I think my compliment worked just fine.
The water here is not moving too quickly. There is only low vegetation, so a wolf would not be able to sneak past without being spotted. She should be able to bathe in private and be relatively safe.
Nia begins unbuttoning her dress, and while I have seen her in her undergarments, I do not know if she will be removing those as well.
If that is the case, then I am sure to keel over dead.
I am not strong enough for this, and the lack of sleep is making me dizzy, or maybe it is her peeling the dress down her long, slender legs—
Shit.
I tear my dagger from its sheath and hand it to her. “Take this.”
Even her fingers closing over the hilt makes my groin ache. “Why? Where are you going?”
Away from you so I do not pounce like a wolf in heat. “To give you privacy. If anything comes near you, scream. Go for the kill. Throat, eye, heart. Do not hesitate.”
She nods, and I leave before I make a complete fool out of myself. I do not go far, just to where the river bends and I can no longer see Nia. The vegetation here grows a little higher. I push it away, clearing a path for myself to the river. There is a splash followed by joyous laughter.
Shit.
I drop my pack and force myself to build a fire to warm her when she is finished. Even when the flames are steady, I cannot get the thought of Nia bathing out of my mind.
I did not anticipate that listening to her would be almost as torturous as watching it happen. I might very well lose my mind this day.
I adjust my stiffness in my trousers, but concealing the effect Nia Quill has on my body is becoming impossible.
Perhaps this frigid water will do the trick. At this point, my own desperation will be my downfall.
I strip and throw myself into the river, but still my desire remains. Nia is sure to be finished soon, and with the way my body stiffens at the thought, I might have to stay in this fucking river for the rest of my days.
I scrub my hands down my face, frustrated by my own lack of control.
There is only one way to relieve this ache, and I am not proud of taking myself in hand, but there is no choice if I am to keep us safe.
Holding her hand is distraction enough. I am withered from exhaustion and cannot let myself lose focus for even a moment.
When this pressure is gone, I can resume my duty once more.
I grip myself in my fist. Four strokes are all it takes to end my throbbing desire.
That is until her laughter drifts around me once more.
Shit.
Smoke billows from what was once our fire, the flames no longer visible.
Dammit.
I make my way to shore, through the vegetation, to where I left my clothes and rucksack. When I bend down to retrieve my pants, one of the tall plants whacks me across the face. I rip it out of the ground, roots and all.
Why must this world conspire against me?
Surely my lies were not terrible enough to deserve this level of torment.
The moment I stuff my legs into my pants, my face begins to burn.
At first, I believe it must be shame that has lit me ablaze, but then my hands begin to catch fire.
I go to the river and try to use water to put it out, but—
Shit.
Something is terribly wrong.