Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ROSAMUND
“You ran,” he says, going down on one knee beside me. “You didn’t think I’d find you?”
He has a streak of blood on one cheek, and his hands are covered in it. It reminds me of him fighting off my would-be assassins outside my door.
His eyes, though, are hard like glass shards. “Nothing to say for yourself?”
“I don’t answer to you,” I mutter and attempt to sit up, only the world tilts and spins, and I lie back down with a groan.
“You hit your head. Did you break anything?”
“Don’t pretend to care,” I whisper.
“I care, because I’ll be the one who’ll have to carry you.”
Heat seeps into my face. “Just leave me here. I’ll find my way.”
“Your way where?” He laughs. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll abandon you here, hurt and delirious.”
“I’m not delirious,” I protest weakly.
“You most certainly fucking are,” he grunts, “if you think I’d leave anyone in this state.”
“You are the one who carried me away in the first place.”
“To save your godsdamned life.” He rubs a hand over his face. “That may have been a mistake on my part, if this is the way you’ll act.”
“Like what?”
“Like a spoiled little girl.”
Anger fights with weakness and wins. I sit up carefully, the headache pounding in my temples almost blinding. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to in this manner.”
“Of course not. Everyone has coddled you—”
“You know nothing about me, or how I was raised,” I say evenly.
“You’re right, I wasn’t working in the fields or as a maid cleaning the manor, I’ll grant you that.
I’m grateful for my status in life, which allowed me to spend most of my time reading and practicing calligraphy, drawing plants and insects, and embroidering. ”
“A real princess,” he whispers, head cocked to the side. “Delicate hands, delicate skin.”
“But since my mother was killed, nobody kissed my boo-boos and read me tales, nobody held my hand when I woke up in a cold sweat, I…” I close my eyes and let out a breath. “Know what? Forget it.”
He’s frowning now, thick brows drawn low over his eyes. “Princess—”
“I said, forget it.”
He sighs. Rolls his eyes. “Fine. All forgotten. No memory of what you said has remained.”
“So what now?” I say after a few beats of silence. “Are you going to kill me? Torture me? Take me to your people and throw me… throw me to the wolves?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he rumbles. “Your family killed mine. I’m a tad unstable right now.”
“Your mother and her goons kidnapped me! Tortured me. Your mother—”
“You don’t know that my mother was involved in any of that, godsdammit.”
“Really?” I glower. “Then why else was she there that night? Come on, Valen…”
“I made a deal, and I keep my promises. I’ll take you to your husband. And then I’ll go my own way.” He’s silent for a few long moments, looking down at his bloodied hands. “I got us some dinner. Rest. I’ll wash myself, and then I’ll see how to make it palatable for a princess.”
“I’m not—”
“Godsdammit, I said, don’t test me right now.” He rises to his feet. “And stay where I can see you, or I won’t be held responsible if a wildcat gets you and your journey ends here.”
Properly chastised and honestly way too dizzy and exhausted to attempt another escape, I sit and watch him wash his hands and forearms, crouched at the creek, the water soaking his bare feet and through the hems of his pants.
He’s bare-chested, and I don’t know what he has done with his shirt, nor do I want to ask.
I don’t want to talk to him at all right now.
As much as it annoys me, I need him. And I owe him.
It guts me. The wolves owe me; that was the one thing clear in my mind all these years. To find myself indebted to one of them, indeed, the son of the monsters who took me… It’s unbearable.
And all the while I’m watching, mesmerized, the perfectly cut muscles of his back, shifting and bunching as he rubs the blood off his hands with handfuls of sand from the bottom of the creek, the magnificent breadth of his shoulders and those bulging biceps.
He’s just so… male. So strong and large and formidable, and his face has just the right amount of prettiness to make my heart race.
He takes my breath away.
Not a good thing, seeing as I need to catch my breath and regain my energy. The Hunt for my Lost Breath. That might as well be the title of a philosophical work in which I question my life’s choices.
A soft snort escapes me, and his gaze instantly cuts to me.
“Something funny?” he rasps, getting up.
I shake my head, biting my lower lip. “I just thought of something.”
“A secret?”
“No, it’s not a secret. I just can’t believe I’m out here, at your mercy—”
His lips peel back. “Like I was at yours, until today?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Princess.”
I huff. “Come on, Valen. You’re—”
“A beast, I know. You’ve said.”
“That’s not what I had meant to say.”
“Then what? That I deserve what happened to me because of my nature? Deserved to be muzzled and tied up, thrown into a cage, then collared with a leash?” He fingers the collar still strapped around his neck. “Left to go thirsty and hungry? Have bones for supper?”
I look away, uneasy, feeling sick to my stomach. “No.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he says eventually.
“Wasn’t it?”
He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” I’m glad for the change of topic. “I think so.”
“Come on, then. We should camp for the night. I wasn’t joking about the wildcats.”
I lick dry lips. “And what else is out here?”
“Boars can be quite territorial. Crowned deer. And wolves.”
“You are a wolf.”
“They won’t see me as one of their own. Weres are different. Larger. Magical. We smell differently. Act differently.”
“So you’re not at home with the wolves…”
“…or the other fae and humans. Don’t you envy my life?” He reaches for me with his now-mostly-clean hand, and I slide my hand against his rough palm. “Here we go.”
He pulls me up like I weigh nothing and then, when I sway on my feet, he hauls me closer to his tall, warm body. A scent of musk and warm amber winds around me, and I inhale deeply, my mouth watering and my body tingling everywhere.
He gazes down at me for long beats, then turns and pulls me after him. “Come on. The stone circle was good during the day, but for the night, I’d rather find something less magical and sturdier.”
“Like a cave?”
“That would be nice, although the wildcats favor them for their broods. A tree could be a suitable place to sleep in. Have you ever climbed a tree?”
“No.”
“Didn’t I say you’re coddled?”
“Can’t see what it has to do with it. However, I did climb on the roof of the manor to read a few times, against the rules.”
He slows down and shoots me a wink. “So naughty. Such a rebel.”
I shrug. “Skirts aren’t suited to tree climbing.”
“Then let’s hope we find a defensible, empty cave. Who knows? You may be luckier than I am.”
“Me? Have you seen my life?”
He laughs, and the sound does such weird things to me, tightening my belly and making me grin.
Why in the hells am I grinning? Even if this is ridiculous. More than that, it’s dangerous and treacherous. I haven’t figured Valen out yet, and I’m not sure about his motivations and goals, and my role in his plans.
“I made a deal, and I keep my promises.”
Can I trust him—at least, not to kill me?