His deep chuckle made me want to smirk. He laughed louder when I did. We’d just had a moment. I knew the second he realized this, the widest grin I’d yet to see nearly splitting his boxy features.
“What do you think of dreams?” I blurted suddenly. Did the boogeyman bother with dreams in Mordenne? Was there one? I knew of Sandmen. I’d actually sought a Sandman out to help me with my little dreamwalking problem, but all I’d been told after one good long look at my neck was that they didn’t get involved in that sort of thing. Fat lot of good they were. I’d been gun shy with everyone, reluctant to rehash any part of my problem, after that.
And, yes, I knew exactly what this place was called. I should. I’d been born in Mordenne. Mama had sat me down when I was about fourteen to explain a few things to me about how I’d come to be, my existence in this world, expectations, etc. She’d received an odd letter weeks before and was on pins and needles ever since. I’d had no clue there was anything different about me. For all that it had manifested, it really wasn’t that obvious.
Discovering my mother was from a long line of weak blooded witches wasn’t as shocking as the news that Daddy, the only father I’d ever known, wasn’t my biological father but the man who’d fallen in love with my mother, not her true mate but a Human she’d gone as gaga over him as he had her, and he’d chosen to love me and raise me as if I was his own. To Daddy, I was his. There was no difference to that man between Penny and me. We were both his babies and he’d made sure we knew it.
Pen had no idea about any of this, and per Mama’s wishes until she’d thought Pen was ready, I’d planned to keep it that way. Actually, I hadn’t planned to tell her at all in the end. I’d already lost both of my parents, like hell would I lose her, too. I wouldn’t survive it. And, apparently, without whatever protections Mama had placed over me, gone with her death, I’d been left vulnerable. The only upside I’d found, was in Penny being spared my fate. What would she think, knowing her sibling was harboring so many secrets, one amongst them that she was part freak? I thought I was a freak.
Curling my hands in my lap, I stared at them. My finger traced the seam where one of my finger’s webbing had been removed when I’d been little. I didn’t remember them, but the scars told of their existence. I didn’t shift. It was explained to me I’d been born with one form, a webbed freak of a Human. And I supposed that was why I’d felt connected to Merfolk. I was one but I wasn’t. In the end, I didn’t really fit in with them, either. I didn’t fit in anywhere...
“What of dreamwalkers?” the Troll asked, his thick, fuzzy red eyebrows furrowing. Purple eyes found my clear green-blues as we stopped at a light. Eyeing me, he cocked his head.
“What do Parakind have to do with them? Ah, with it? Can they… not?” I mumble-muttered under my breath. Unable to meet his searching gaze, I shifted in my seat until I was staring out the window. My fingers clenched together until my knuckles hurt.
The Troll was an odd one, but he was honest. A tiny niggle of warmth filled me. I stopped questioning my gut when it came to the Troll, though I wasn’t certain the exact moment when. Segrid was safe. My body screamed with the fact, my head and my heart insisting this was true. The Troll felt safe, smelled safe. I wanted, needed so badly to have this, for him to be safe.
I gave him dirty looks, but that was my natural response to how insanely, just how damned much, I wanted to climb him like a tree and claim him. Those kinds of possessive thoughts, I’d never felt anything like it before. It made me scowl on principle alone at the very idea.
And, yes, the Troll may twist things, choose his words carefully, but if I asked him something point blank, he wasn’t going to jerk my chain. My skin still tingled from where his wide hands had met my flesh. I’d felt cold for so long it threw me. The sudden loss of his warmth had left me even more chilled. My hands started to sweat, another occurrence of my genetic predisposition. Mama had told people it was some type of glandular thing, but it wasn’t literally sweat. When I got nervous, I leaked water, sometimes fresh, sometimes straight up sea water. I was as aquatically damaged as I was socially awkward.
I’d been so touch starved I’d soaked his affection up like a damned dandelion soaking up all that sunshine he liked to delude himself into thinking I poured out of my bum hole like a living ray of it. Troll boy was the sunshine-y one, he just wasn’t aware of this super power of his—his power over me. I itched in my seat to creep closer to him and crawl in his lap, beg to be petted and squished by the lumbering male. God, I was pathetic. My reaction to him scared me the most. I craved. Once wasn’t enough. It was potent, heady. I was hungry for a Troll? I could barely wrap my head around it. Yet I felt it and the need to be near him all the same.
“How do Others have to do with dreamwalking, as in what, in what way, my Queen?” Segrid kept glancing my way, I noted as I spied on him through the reflection in the side window and windshield, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible in my peeping of the male.
He was so damned fascinating, and comfortable to me. I couldn’t help but think of the deranged male who’d kidnapped me like some kind of savior. I’d dreaded going to bed and closing my eyes, or worse, falling asleep on the couch with Pen so close. Could he save me fromhim?
Was it delusional on my part to hope? Perhaps. I’d wished for someone to come drag me out of this meager existence I’d been reduced to, thenhe’dbegun to demand more of me, and I’d wanted out of it all altogether. Horrible thoughts and ideas had crept into my head. I’d grown desperate. And just when I’d thought of acting on those dark demands, Pen had come tromping up the steps, running home from what she’d thought was an inconsiderate, asshole mate. And then I’d found my house ransacked by a mate seeking Cyclops and his buddies, my Segrid among them.
My Segrid. Was hemyTroll, truly? Daring a peek at the male to find him watching the road, I took that moment to study him. Much as I liked to feign indifference in front of others, I saw nothing truly wrong with the male beside me.
Much as I protested, I’d gotten a sick thrill out of the past… Damn, how long has all this been going on? How long had I been chumming around in Mordenne with the likes of his purple-eyed-ness? Blinking as a yawn threatened to overtake me, my gaze darted back towards the passenger side window. Scenery whizzed by. We were nearing a spot along the edge of the woods and the swampy marsh. I hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours. The trees were growing funny colors, lavenders and cornflower blues with white and black leaves, blood red and deep orange blossoms on black and white speckled bushes loaded with pink berries. “What kind of acid trip is this?” I muttered under my breath.
“Soil’s as brown as the Human world’s, but richer. Glitters with magicks of The Helm.” Segrid’s chest puffed up proudly. His gaze caught mine and he winked.
Not quite sure what overtook me, but a tiny smile lifted my lips. Catching this, he smiled widely. My cheeks flushed and I blushed. “Uhm…” Clearing my throat, I licked my lips, looking anywhere but at him. “What’s the, uh, Helm?”
“Where I will rule alongside you,” he said simply.
When I blinked and my gaze shot to his, his smile was no longer teasing but a simple, pleased twist of his lips. “Beg pardon?” I sputtered. He didn’t mean it. Maybe he said it like he did, and in this moment not only did he have me wanting to believe it but acted as if he believed it himself, but this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Some things were just too good to be true, and that was the truth. I was made well aware of the pitfalls of Mordenne’s inhabitants, firsthand experience teaching me the hard lessons. I’d wanted to save Penny from all of this. But, no, she just had to go big. Not only infiltrating Mordenne but hitching herself to one of the few good Other males to be had. She dodged the fire breathers, blood suckers, the cursed, any outright madness, and skipped straight to unicorns, laser-eyed overbearing Cyclops husbands, and rainbows.
“When you are ready,” he added with a firm nod. He was so damn sure of himself, and I wanted to just allow myself this, let him say things while I rode side bitch.
“You talk a good game,” I muttered under my breath, suddenly huffy, “I’ll give you that.” My curmudgeonly, antisocial side reared its head at all this mushy, lovely sounding malarkey. Like hell was I about to let him fill my head with marshmallowy nonsense to send me into a tailspin when he got sick of me and threw me over.
“I say my truths,” he said simply. That deep voice washed over me. One of those good kinds of shivers wracked my frame.
“So… what’s for lunch?” Folding my hands neatly in my lap, stiff where I sat though I tried to relax, I shifted to give him my full attention.
“What does my lady wish?” he fairly purred.
We were back to this then?
“Sandwiches, sex, a nap.” Short, sweet, succinct. “For starters,” I said with a nod.
The Troll driving this rig swerved. “Wh- what was it you be sayin’?” he croaked out roughly, his voice suddenly gone hoarse. Man, did his odd accent thicken up when he was frazzled. I couldn’t place it, the way he spoke. I noted the difference between his accent mixed with the short way he spoke, when he didn’t, and when it just went thick as hell and full Troll. I was really digging that full Troll grumble. It rumbled out of him quite nicely.
It was my turn to grin. Smothering it, along with a soft laugh, I murmured softly, “Oh, I think you heard me the first time, Troll-squatch.”
