Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ROSAMUND
Of course they came after us.
If my brain hadn’t been fizzling since I found myself bouncing on Valen’s shoulder, I would have realized. They want me dead. They won’t risk me finding my way to Lord Eorl’s house and telling him what they’ve done, attempting to kill his bride to avoid paying the dowry.
So now I’m clinging to Valen’s muscular back as he climbs down the tree at a dizzying speed and starts sprinting through the woods. He didn’t ask me anything, didn’t explain, only ordered me to climb onto his back, and we were off.
It nettles me to answer to a man like that, a beastly man no less, to hang on his back like a sack of flour, my legs wrapped around his lean hips, my breasts bumping against him with every running step, but I have to admit he knows his way much better out here and if anyone can save me… then it’s Valen.
No doubt about it.
He runs and runs as if he can keep going forever at a pace a human could never match.
The barking dogs are still behind us, but don’t sound so close anymore.
My arms are slipping, my legs, too. They feel heavy and bruised from clinging to this mad wolf racing up and down hills as if that’s what he does every day before breakfast.
He probably does. What do I know of the habits of werewolves?
“Hang on,” he growls when my hold slackens more. “Almost there.”
“Where?” I croak, hanging on for dear life as he takes an impossible leap over a creek and off a heap of rocks.
“This is far enough,” he tosses at me and finally stops. “I bet they’ve lost our scent by now. Crossing creeks helps, and the wind is blowing in our direction.”
“Which means...?”
“We’re safe for now.” He crouches down, and I simply slide off him—and right to the ground, my legs not holding me anymore. “You really know nothing of the laws of nature, do you?”
“And you really are the king of understatement, are you?” I grumble, still on my ass, still wheezing.
He chuckles as he turns around. “Nobody has ever accused me of being subtle.”
“And they were so right. It isn’t one of your virtues.”
“That implies I have virtues,” he grunts. “Oh, Princess, I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”
I lift a hand in protest. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“You’re right.” His chuckle dies, though a soft smile lingers. “Let’s not.” Then a dark shadow passes behind his shining, golden eyes. “Look at you, in the mud, sprawled and relaxed, your hair loose, your... Fuck, woman, your body is wasted underneath those dresses you’re wearing.”
My hands fly up to my collar and find the top buttons undone. With trembling fingers, I redo them. “My body is none of your business,” I whisper.
“You think I didn’t feel every soft curve while you slept between my legs, up in the tree? Or as you hung onto my back, while I ran to escape the dogs and hunters?”
“You’d think,” I say primly, “that running for your life, both our lives, would have you more focused on the task at hand.”
“And yet,” he crouches down and leans forward until he’s looming over me, “I can’t think of anything but you.”
“That’s...” I clear my throat, because right now I can’t see, hear, smell, or feel anything but him, and apart from the moments of sheer terror, as he’d scaled down the tree and jumped over impossible gaps and distances... he’s been on my mind, too.
But it won’t do.
“I’m to be married,” I end up saying. “This is—”
“Improper. Right.” But his smile lingers, if strained. “So you’ve said.”
“Is it different in werewolf society? Do you...” I wave a hand back and forth. “...sleep with anyone you fancy, no matter your prior commitments and promises?”
“I don’t sleep with everyone I fancy,” he murmurs, his warm gaze still on me. “I don’t fancy anyone. And I haven’t made any promises.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. What it means. He isn’t promised to anyone, he seems to say. He’s free to choose with whom to be. And isn’t that nice?
This isn’t the time to be bitter, though, or stop trusting that my future husband will be wonderful. Why am I doubting it now? Is it the dowry thing? How could he have predicted my stepfather’s reaction?
Valen reaches out a tanned, large hand, and I take it, letting him haul me to my feet. Letting him pull me against him once more, steadying me, pressing me to his tall body. He inhales deeply and... and something large and hard pokes into my stomach.
I try to pull back, see what it is. “Valen, your knives—”
He barks a laugh and steps away suddenly. “My knives are happy to see you. Now, I hunted for both of us yesterday, but when you decided to take a hike without me and night fell, we missed our chance to have dinner together.”
“Dinner,” I mutter. “You make it sound like a banquet, when it was probably a raw carcass we’d have to bite into.”
“Yeah, sorry, honey, I forgot the golden forks and knives at home.” He snorts. “That said, I would have cooked the carcass for you.”
“How? Can you light fires with the force of your gaze?”
“In these areas, you find flintstones, and you have a steel knife. It wouldn’t be too hard.”
“You didn’t think you’d need to cook it, though,” I muse, recalling the blood on his face and arms. “You already ate your portion. Raw and bloody.”
“It bothers you that I sometimes act like an animal.”
“Sometimes?” I laugh. “You’re funny.”
He’s quiet, though, and my laughter dies. He tugs on my hand and starts walking, so that I have to hurry and match his pace.
Guilt nibbles at my thoughts as he leads me out of the grove, striding fast. Most of my focus is on keeping up, but after a while, I can’t hold it inside of me anymore.
“Valen,” I start, “about earlier—”
“It’s fine. You voiced your thoughts. I’d rather have the truth than lies.”
I grimace. “But that’s not—”
“Don’t sugarcoat things for me, Princess. You think I’m a disgusting beast. You never hid it. So why start now?”
“That’s not... Will you stop and look at me?”
He halts and turns around. “What?”
“I was only teasing. I see now it was in bad taste. I don’t think you’re beastly. At least... not in a bad way. I...” Heat spreads over my cheeks. “I mean... forget it.”
What am I doing? What does that mean, not in a bad way? Have I lost my mind?
But he’s watching me, brows drawn together, a pensive look in his amber eyes. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“What, can’t you smell that, too?” I bite my lip. “Dammit, I’m sorry. Why—?”
“You grew up believing certain things about my kind. That’s not something you can undo in a day. Cut yourself a little slack.”
“It’s not fair to you,” I say.
“Life isn’t always fair.”
“But I don’t want to hurt you.”
His eyes grow hooded. “Then don’t.”
“Valen...”
“At least, until we reach your destination. Then you go your way, and I go mine. No harm done. See?”
He makes it sound so simple. Like a stroll in the garden, and then the two of us part amicably and peacefully, never to see each other again. Which would be the ideal ending to this adventure, most definitely, so why...?
Why does it make me feel sad?