He nods, as if he suspected as much. “I hope he does right by you.”
“He will.” I slide down the rocks and sit on the ground. “I said I’ll be fine.”
We sit in silence as the pig roasts over the flames, fat sizzling, the aroma of cooking meat hitting my senses and twisting my stomach with hunger. My doubts and revulsion from seeing thecarcass fade away as instinct takes over. I’m starving. I could grab the meat from the flames and devour it, were it not for a quiet, brooding dark fae sitting cross-legged across from me. He’s toying with the knife, flipping it, twirling it, balancing it on his knuckles.
When the silence stretches too long, and the sizzling of the meat becomes a buzzing inside my head and stomach, I lose the battle.
“Shall we eat?” I ask.
“Of course, Princess.” He lifts the knife and starts cutting thin strips off the meat. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I grab the meat, not caring if it burns my hands, and stuff my mouth with it. I’ve never tasted anything more delicious. “This is good!”
“Life outside the walls of your manor can be great. I wish I could teach you how to enjoy it.” He’s silent once more, while I gnaw on the meat like a, well, like a wolf. Then he says quietly, “I’ll take care of you.”
“No need.” I lick the fat off my fingers, swallowing down a moan. “I’m okay.”
“Are you? Whoever did this to you,” he says slowly, deliberately, “whoever it was that hurt you, they will pay. I’ll find them and make sure they can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ROSAMUND
His words shouldn’t be reassuring. I shouldn’t need to hear them. I realize nobody ever said anything like that to me. It was all,“You can make it, You can get out of your room, You can smile and laugh and go through life as if nothing happened.”
Nobody ever offered to take revenge on behalf of my mother and me.
Of course, these are dark fae we’re talking about. Rogue. Werewolves. Dangerous. Who in their right mind would have gone after them?
But nobody ever said,“I’ll take care of you. I’ll make them pay somehow. I’ll understand if you need your space to heal.”
And something cold and frozen inside my chest feels like it’s thawing, and it hurts. His too-knowing gaze on me doesn’t make it any easier. It’s as if he can read my mind, feel my emotions, feel that thawing ache.
As if he knows he put it there, and it pleases him.
It would make sense. Dark fae like pain. They like experiencing it, as well as dealing it to others. Their souls are pitch black, their interests primal.
I hadn’t thought much about emotional pain. If that gets them off. I bet it does. He’s feeding off my discomfort. He’stwisting a ghostly blade in my heart and enjoying it, only… Only the ache is kind of pleasant.
He’s kind of a good person. His kindness, his fierceness on my behalf, is what hurts, because he’s the last person I’d ever expect it from. I treated him terribly since I met him, and yet he’s here, still protecting me. Still saving me.
A good man.
The thought haunts me as he eats, always watching me, fat and meat juices dripping down his chin, as he cuts more thin slices for me. He looks like he wants to feed them to me, but keeps himself in check.
It’s as if I’m the pet and he’s the master.
So many things should be bothering me about this situation, but they aren’t. I’m too tired and weakened. That has to be why I let him control everything, pass me those fine slices where he’s biting into thick chunks of meat and bone. Treating me like the princess he says I am, as if a princess would deign to sit in the dirt and eat with her hands pieces of meat handed over by a savage werewolf.
He doesn’t look savage right now, though. Fierce, yes. Dirty and half-naked, sure. His gaze is so intent, it reminds me that he’s really a fae and a wolf. An eldritch creature who can hear the earth’s language and use its magic.
He looks like he could ravage me against the rocks, like he could press that tall, heavy body on top of mine and make me feel good. Safe. Protected.
And if that image starts a different, sweet ache between my legs, then that’s quickly becoming my new normal. Seeing him shirtless, allowing my eyes to travel over that chiseled torso is so… freeing. Exciting.
Not to mention, the cause of restless sleep and vivid dreams.
Curling up on the ground, my back to the rocks, I watch him sitting by the small fire until my eyes close. I don’t know how Ilet my guard down enough to sleep in this wild place, after all his warnings, but his presence makes me feel safer than I ever have. In all honesty, I’ve never felt safe in my house, in my room. In my bed. That’s where I was taken from, as if the doors were flimsy mist, as if nobody could stop the enemy from breaking in.
