“You don’t remember? You blacked out from one of his vines constricting your airway,” he explains, some of his words running over each other. “Then, one of the vines blasted me back, and I woke up just a few minutes before you came to.” He speaks with conviction, and if I was anyone else, I might’ve believed him. But there’s no way, absolutely zero chance he got the upper hand.
I eye him warily. “You’re going to stand here and tell me that he got the upper hand onbothof us?”
“It surprised me just as much as you.”
Suddenly, the ringing in my ears returns, like a slow, steady hum. And although my gut reaction is to wince, cover them in hopes to drown it out, I don’t. Instead, my jaw clenches, applying enough pressure to turn my teeth into fucking diamonds as I restrain myself. Silently, I turn on my heels and stride out the door but not before noting the subtle drop of his shoulders, almost like he let out a sigh of relief.
Not taking 306 at his word, I clear the rest of the house, needing to see with my own eyes that it is empty. Not that ittakes long to do so. Aside from the bedroom, there is only the bathroom and the one room that has the living area and kitchen combined. A small linen closet rests off the main area, but it only houses a few shelves, not leaving any room for someone to hide.
“I told you he was gone,” 306 states when I close the closet door. But nothing about what he told me sits right, and in the back of my mind, I know he’s lying. The ringing in my ears stays persistent, growing louder like a war drum. Ignoring him, my feet carry me toward the front entrance, but when my hand grips the knob, it’s like I’m transported back in time. To a memory I didn’t know I was harboring.
The sound of her feet echo behind me as she stomps her way over the threshold. Her attitude is palpable but so intriguing. The defiance she exudes is rather annoying, but a part of me finds it absolutely alluring. She’s infuriating. Every deliberate delay, every pointed glare, petty rebellion—she wears them like armor.
And I’m the idiot who keeps trying to pry it off.
Because the moment I turn and look at her,reallylook at her, staring at the realm in awe, her fae features enhancing the beauty that’s always been there, all the other stuff buzzes like white noise.
She had complained just days ago that her arms hurt while doing her hair, and I don’t know why I did it. But seeing her disheveled over something so small, against all the other countless things that could’ve coaxed that kind of reaction from her…it made me think that she was finally reaching her breaking point. It wasn’t complicated and almost soothing taking each strand and intertwining it with the rest. Although, the only thing running through my head at that time was how they would look wrapped around my hand, pulled back with force as I drove deeper inside her. My cock swells at the thought, and I do what I can to tamper it down.
She asks a lot of questions. Granted, if the roles were reversed I would to. But sometimes she gets too close, and there have been times I’ve wanted to tell her the truth. Every time, actually. But I can’t. So driving her attention to something else seems to be the best route. Having my mother take her for training lessons gives me some much-needed space—not because I don’t want to be in her presence. No, it’s the exact opposite. The distance is not a want but aneed.Because, at some point, I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself from the carnal urge to have her—claim her. It’s engraved in my soul, my bones, and all I do every waking moment is yearn for her to be close.
Instead, I push her away, keeping her at arm’s length until I simply can’t bear it any longer. And I so selfishly steal the faintest touches, quick glances, until I find myself fully submerged inside her mind, and before I know it, the exit is like a maze, full of twists and turns threatening to trap me inside with her for eternity.
Not that I would mind.
The walk to the barrier is long—by foot, that is. Each passing second, I can feel her energy deplete, and I catch myself holding in a chuckle each time I remember how much farther we have to go.
“There’s another way to get there,” I admit, watching her face morph from irritated to intrigued. “I don’t know if you’re up for it, but for my own sanity, I would rather risk it than listen to you bitch for the remainder of the trip.” Clearly, she doesn’t want to admit defeat, that she’s tired and hungry. Her pride would never allow her to.
It was bound to happen at some point or another. I’m not sure why it feels like a monumental moment, but I guess, in some ways, it is. I feel exposed—like she’s seeing me naked for the first time. Shadows billow out behind me, dropping the glamorand unveiling the wings I’ve kept hidden from her.
There have been so many instances that I’ve used them for dominance, to showcase that I am, in fact, the most dangerous one in the room. Being born with wings is a rare occurrence—so much so that my mother had no idea what was happening when they began to sprout. The pain was agonizing. The healers did the best they could to keep me comfortable, but that was all they could do.
Now they’re like an extension of me, just like my magic. And the feeling of stretching them out is indescribable. But nothing beats the look of awe Kallie wears, her jaw nearly unhinged. The beauty of it all is the free access to her thoughts. My wings flutter as I listen to each of them unapologetically.
She’s never been one to voice any opinion other than the normal hatred and disdain. But there’s always so much going on up there, so much underneath the surface she wants to keep hidden from everybody else.
At some point between the over-analysis of my ‘defined features’ and how I look ‘otherworldly,’ I can’t contain the smile any longer, and I let it come out full force. “Please, Princess, tell me again how ‘otherworldly beautiful’ I am.”
“You have wings,” she states, not at all acknowledging my statement.
“And here I thought you weren’t observant.” I take my time closing the distance between us, loving the way she gawks at me. “We can’t fly the whole way, but you can reserve some energy for the real hike.”
“Therealhike?” she exclaims. But she realizes her mistake a little too late. Another question down, which I’m not keeping track of. Not really. It doesn’t irritate me in the way she thinks. I’ll listen to as many questions as she wants to ask. Listening to the sound of her voice keeps me grounded to the present, instead of thinking about all the chaos that awaits us.
It doesn’t mean I’ll answer them all.
Her anger is palpable as I taunt her. “I’m going to carry you like the princess you are, doing all the hard work while you lounge in my arms and feel that fresh breeze fan across your cheeks.” I knew the boop on the nose would send her into another realm of rage, but I simply just couldn’t help myself. I don’t ask permission, the look of defiance on her face doing something to me, and before I know it, I take her into my arms. Her arms wrap loosely around my neck, and I wonder why it’s so hard for her…to just be. Always on guard, always in a state of fight or flight.
Maybe that’s partly my fault, being the reason she’s so broken and damaged. But not beyond repair. All those walls, the ones she keeps secure around her mind, body, and soul are only there to protect herself.
I can’t blame her for that.
“You’re going to want to hold on tighter than that, Princess.”
“I think I can manage, thank you.” The last part goes up an octave—or three—indicating that she thinks she knows it all, and it will be my pleasure to prove her wrong.
“Whatever you say.” I push off the ground with more force than necessary, relishing in the way her scream gets lodged in her throat and the feeling of her head burying into the crook of my neck. The loose grip she started with has now turned suffocating, but I don’t mind. Absentmindedly, I pull her in a little tighter, not knowing when I’ll be able to have her this close again.
