“Effective, wolf man,” Segrid complimented, like it was a job well done.
Eyeing me eyeing my dying blossom, Alfie took one step towards the rack the pot rested on, and a warning rumble rattled my chest.
The Werewolf’s eyebrows shot up and he sent Segrid a funny look. “Not his mate, huh?”
“The plant boy is funny in the head,” Segrid commented, like he felt that pertinent to this situation.
Grimacing, I spit out the sock in my mouth. Shuddering as I made gagging noises, I informed them both, “I’m not.”
“Right. Okay.” Alfie’s eyes flashed and he moved, using his Werewolf reflexes to lunge for the pot.
Moving just as fast, I shot towards him. I had him pinned to the wall, shifted and roaring into his face, hunching my towering frame just to fit, nearly choking my beast friend to death.
“Not gur mert, hur?” he gurgled out, his partially shifted hand slapping at my thick, viney hand wrapped around his throat.
Lifting him, moving him away, to drop him to the floor a safe distance away from what I felt a need to protect, he shook his head as he rubbed at his throat. “You’re an idiot,” was all he said, pointing at me with a clawed, hairy finger, to then take his leave. “Come on, Seg. Kat and Viv said they’d meet us in Helms when we were ready.”
“You have much to learn,” Segrid added quietly, and followed Alfie out.
William came in, plopping his ass down at the front door. The Satyr simply sat there watching me. When my shift started to wilt, he nodded, retreated into the house, and came out moments later with my bathrobe. “I’m going to raid your fridge,” he said like none of the events of earlier had occurred, like I wasn’t an ass and the worst person ever, “come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
He left me there without another word.
“She’s not my mate,” I called out softly, poking my head into the house, to which William glanced up from the chicken and green beans he was preparing but said nothing. I didn’t even believe it anymore. My gaze kept darting to the blossom wilting in the pot. Walking over to it, I cradled it to my chest. Frowning, I gently blew a breath on it. Nothing happened. Whimpering a little on the inside at the faint hint of scent clinging to it like that last petal, I carried the pot clutched in my arms with me to the bar in the kitchen.
“Will the lady be dining with us?” William asked casually, setting a napkin down in front of the pot, along with a fork and knife, like this was all some joke to him or something. At my scowl, he cocked his head. “You should go see your parents. Talk to them,” he said suddenly.
“Huh?” Taking the soda he handed me, pineapple-orange soda, my favorite, I fiddled with the pop top. “Why?” I asked finally.
“I dunno.” William’s shrug was nonchalant, but his eyes gleamed. He pointed the fork he was using to turn the chicken on the stove at me. “Maybe they could help you figure out how to keep that from dying.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. My hands curled around the pot tighter and I swallowed hard. Just that word, dying, had me trembling in place. If I left after we ate, I could be there by tomorrow morning… Again, my gaze fell on that last petal.
“Or you could talk to her?” William’s voice was full ofduh, stupid.At the look I gave him, he muttered, “Or not. Not my toe blossom on the line.”
“It’s not a toe blossom! It’s a love b-” The word died, a croak in my throat.
William gave me a knowing look. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
I didn't appreciate his dry tone. “Shut up,” I muttered, hunching over my prize.
“Strange that you’re still so attached to that thing, even after learning of its origins… Why could it be, do you think?”
“I like the way it smells.” My chin lifted, daring him to argue.
“You like the smell of Aster’s severed toe.” His eyebrows nearly kissed his hairline. “Good to know.”
“You’re baiting me.” I bared my teeth at him but accepted the chicken and green beans he plated out and set in front of me.
“Am I?” Will made a tsking sound. The Faun ate leaning at the counter in the kitchen near the sink, the bar’s counter raised just next to it.
Not much of an appetite, I ended up swirling the food around on my plate with my fork. “She’s not my mate.”
“Of course not.” Will glanced up but continued to eat.
“She’s not.”
“Heard you,” he mumbled around a bite. Tapping his fork on his plate, he mused, “She has the loveliest eyes. Did you notice?”
