“You two. The service door is at the back. Get out of here.”
“What did you say?” Valen snarls, and the man stumbles backward, eyes widening. “Say it again to my face.”
Yep.We’re back to angry, barbarian Valen.
“I’m here to see Lord Eorl,” I say and lift my locket, opening it. “He sent me his picture. I’m his betrothed.”
“You?” The butler has recovered his composure and gives an airy laugh. “Betrothed?”
“Yes. I’m Lady Rosamund Briar. Lord Eorl has been waiting for me. I’ve been… delayed.”
The butler rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’re the new jesters we’ve been expecting?”
Valen roars. “I’ll rip your throat out.”
I pull him back. Cold sweat beads on my brow. To come all this way and be kicked out before even seeing Lord Eorl in person? That’s a nightmare, and I haven’t had many of those lately.
It’s as if Valen’s presence is a weapon, a draught against nightmares… I push the thought aside.
“I tell you,” I repeat, “he has been waiting for me. Go inform him of my arrival.”
“Do you expect me to believe you’re a lady?” the butler snaps. “And not only that, but my master’s betrothed? I mean, look at your clothes! Your hair. Your hands.”
Letting go of Valen’s arm, I look down at my hands, and it’s as if I see them for the first time. They have blisters and sores, the skin cracked and bloody on my knuckles.
“Now move along,” the butler says sharply. “Get out before any of our noble guests sees you.”
I glance up. “I can’t go, not before seeing Lord Eorl. Don’t?—”
“I said, move!” The butler shoves me backward—and the next thing I know, he’s thrown to the floor by a snarling werewolf.
That was a bad move, butler.
“Valen,” I whisper. “Wait…”
“Don’t fucking touch her! Don’t ever lay your filthy paws on her,” he growls, crouched over the supine form of the butler, lips peeling back to reveal long, sharp canines. His tail whips at the back of his thighs. “Not ever again.”
“Don’t hurt him!” I cry out.
“He pushed you,” Valen says, his voice still a growl, without turning around. “I’ll rip his hands off.”
The butler produces a shrill sound of terror. The stench of urine fills the air, and I realize he pissed himself.
A perfectly normal reaction upon suddenly finding a snarling half-shifted werewolf bent over you, all sharp teeth and claws. The only reason I’m not cowering is because… it’s Valen. My body reacts to the danger he represents, my heartbeat racing, my muscles locking up – but heat gathers in my core as desire grips me.
Desire that I have to kill.
“Valen,” I say again. “Come, let’s go find the lord of this place before someone else stops us.”
“I’d like to see them try,” he snarls, but rises with fluid grace to his feet. He finally turns toward me, and yeah, his handsome face is distorted, the jaw slightly too long, the eyes burning like lamps. “Before we move, he has to apologize.”
I glance at the butler who is struggling to sit up, muttering under his breath. A prayer, probably. He’s as white as a ghost.
“I don’t look like a lady anymore,” I whisper. “It’s not his fault.”
“You always look like a lady.” Valen’s clawed hands clench. “If they can’t see that, they’re fucking blind. As if clothes and jewelry are what matters.”
He’s right, and yet… and yet, I’m not sure I’ve ever been a proper lady at all. If I were, how could a few days in the woods undo my entire upbringing?
