I’m sorry.
Again?
Shaking that little bit ofCastor loreoff, I stammer, “Castor, no. It’s not a medical condition. My mother made me take the shot so I wouldn’t bleed and risk any accidents on jobs. I don’t want to be on birth control anymore, but I need supplies for— ”
His hands crush mine. “She…what?”
I have never heard someone’s voice go soblackafter being filled with so many nerves.
Wholly severe, Castor removes one hand from mine, lifts it to my throat, and frames my jaw. “My feather…your mother made you insert hormones into your body so she could continue selling it to strangers without risking anyinconveniences?”
I tremble. “Yes?”
His hand constricts, dragging me in. He presses a hard kiss to my forehead—and for reasons unknown, I draw comfort from it.Voice raw, he asks, “Do you know what to expect from no longer being subjected to this abuse?”
Breath leaves me. “I…think so? It might be painful. I don’t really know exactly. I’ve been taking the shot since my period started.”
His nails nip into me. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
He swears.
People blur around us, their noise drowning out the rush of thoughts in my head. I use the prick of Castor’s nails to ground myself, focusing on what he said aboutplaying with pain. He was right, I think. There really is an allure to the idea of controlling what hurts—or, at least, dwelling on the pains that can be more easily understood hurts less.
While I’m focusing on the sensations, he softens his voice. “We will deal with her later. For now, let’s get you what you need.”
Chapter 14
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don’t know what to make of me.
What I “need” is therapy.
So much therapy.
Unfortunately, in Castor’s domain, I’m not sure any of the goblins would make great therapists, and I can’t exactly burden a human with the wordsI was kidnapped by a pretty faerie man, and my life is significantly better than it was before that event, now can I?
No. No, I cannot.
Probably because I’m kidnapped and unsure whether or not “therapy” is included in my list of benefits, even as that list grows longer by the second.
Using levitation magic, Castor settles a giant stuffed bear into a corner of my cage while I stand to the side, watching him guide the rest of the things he bought for me in after it. I didn’t ask for half the stuff in the many, many colorful bags now gathering around my swinging bed, and I definitely didn’t ask for a bear twice my size, but Castor insisted I’d need a cuddle buddy for the harrowing challenge ahead.
He also insisted that, though his arms would be wide open, I deserved more than one cuddle buddy option.
Gripping my arm, I let my nails bite my skin and take it all in. There’s…somuch. Hair supplies. Undergarments—so I can stop reusing the ones I smuggled away with me over and over again. Phone accessories, including earbuds, which my mother never let me have.
I’d watch my CapyZahra streams on the lowest volume, huddled in my bed, terrified I’d be overheard and have the privilege taken away.
Castor, in contrast, doesn’t seem like he’ll be content until I possess every conceivable privilege available.
Proving as much, once he finishes creating a playground of excitingnew thingsfor Frelsi to zip through, he turns to me and says, “I require a list of your favorite foods.”
“Gummy bears!” Frelsi chirps, dashing into a bag. Her tiny gasp lifts before a bottle of menstrual relief, maximum strength pokes over the top. “Hard candy!”
My stomach bottoms out, and I find myself unwilling to figure out if a faerie can handle overdosing. “Nothing we got is candy, Frel. It’s all medicine, supplements, and vitamins. Even the gummy ones. They’re for…” Cycle support. Is…Frelsi old enough to have this talk? Castor certainly seems to understand the concepts, so faeries likely do have periods, but I feel like I’ll need a picture book to hold her attention if I’m going to attempt such a discussion.
