… except reapers don’t get a cushy retirement. We reap until we die.
“Soren—” Echo steps forward, clearly reading at least some of the multitude of emotions running through me right now: disappointment, dismay, disgust. At myself mostly.
Is it me? Is that why our weavers don’t want to be here? My own mate chose to avoid me foryearsrather than come home to us.
“I don’t have time for this now,” I say, shutting her down before she can give me any of her reasons for avoiding us and her responsibility here.
A destiny weaver avoiding her own destiny.
The irony. I’d laugh if I didn’t feel sick about it all.
Finn clearly decides that I’ve given his woman enough scathing looks for now as he hauls her up in his arms without another word, presumably to take her back to his cave like the fucking caveman he is.
Presumably he’ll get her naked and make her forget all about the last horrible hour.
I wish I could do the same.
Not with Finn. I don’t want a cranky dragon to sweep me off my feet and fuck my brains out. That’s really not my thing.
But, fuck. I feel a lot of things right now and I don’t like feeling much at all at the best of times.
Yesterday, I’d have been fighting against my jealousy that she was off with Finn, developing their bond.
Now though…
Now, I’m still a little, or a lot, jealous. But I also have a gnawing sense of sadness.
So I do the healthy thing, like every well-adjusted adult. I push my feelings deep down into the dark pit in my stomach and move to the problem at hand. Wren is still missing and now Cam has gone too.
I turn to Madame LaFontaine, who gives me another slow smile that doesn’t fit the seriousness of the situation at all.
“Now, I’m sure it isn’t a problem with you or how your garden is run. These wayward girls of mine are not something many could handle.” She titters and the sound grates on my brain. I try to force a smile, but I’m pretty sure I fail to look even halfway convincing. “Echo is not someone that should tarnish your reputation with her flights of fancy. As for Wren… and now Camellia, I have to say I’m disappointed in them. I’m sure that these recent events are no reflection on you.” Cocking her head to one side, she purses her lips like she’s thinking hard. “I could, of course, put a good word in for you, just to stop any nasty rumors from flying around.”
She smiles and something about it reminds me of how a cat looks when they stop midway through licking their own asshole.
I glance at Brogan to see if his reaction to her suddenly slinky body language and tone is anything like my own. He’s frowning, so I’m clearly not alone in thinking it’s weird.
Pretty sure the woman isflirtingwith me. Not exactly something that happens every day to a guy like me. Brogan’s always the one who gets the attention of any ladies we happen across, and that’s fine with me. Plus, she’s fully aware that mymateis here. And it doesn’t matter that I happen to be pissed at said mate right now, you just don’t do that kind of thing.
“Shall we take another look at Wren and Camellia’s space, see if anything pops up?” she asks.
“Sure.”
I was lost in panic when I asked Madame LaFontaine for help, and didn’t know what else to do, but now she’s here. I’m feeling like it’s a bad idea although I can’t put my finger on why. I’m getting a distinctly weird vibe from her, like she’s not here with honorable intentions.
“She wants to fuck you, dude,” Brogan says, speaking inside my head. My eyes widen as I glance from him to Madame LaFontaine as she slinks ahead of us, slowly perusing the garden as she goes. I shake my head at him.
“I don’t think that’s right.”
He snorts. “You think she’s here out of the goodness of her heart? Nah, seems like she’d rather the entire garden was disbanded and then you have to play nicely with her so that she doesn’t recommend you for retirement. She wants you all to yourself so that she can fuck you.”
I blink a few times, staring at her back as I go over his words. The more I think about it, the more I think his words have a ring of truth about them. If what Brogan says is true, she wouldn’t havedonesomething to Wren, would she? She’s not picking our weavers off one by one so she can do just that? Destroy the garden so I’m easy pickings for her?
I only realize that I’ve been thinking loudly, loud enough for Brogan to hear me through our link, when he snorts another laugh.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past her. She gives those vibes, like she’d like to chain you up and use you as her sex slave.”
I scowl at him. I fucking hope that’s not true.
