Page 155 of Wolfkissed
My heart is a thorny, dark forest.
Rosie has been avoiding me. I was going to take my leave of her and go, as I had planned, but days pass and I’m still here. I’ve been disconnected from time, every moment I watch her passing in the blink of an eye, the rest of the time mired in an eternity. This must be what hell is like.
“Come home with us,” Darian says again when he meets me at the end of the grove. “You’ve lingered and pined long enough, Valen. She made up her mind. So must you. This isn’t good for you. It isn’t healthy.”
I know. She never promised me anything. Never even offered anything. I’m the one who went and fell for her like a fool.
I thought she liked being around me. And around my friends. She laughed. She smiled. I haven’t seen her smile in all these days. Haven’t heard her sweet laughter in this cursed manor.
Why does she want this man? There must be something I’m missing. Something I should be doing. This godsdamned panic is new to me, and I don’t fucking know what to do with it. Beg. Should I beg? Should I demand answers?
Respect her wishes,I tell myself.Respect her space.
“Listen,” Darian goes on. “You’re not even having a fun time here. Why don’t you wring their necks?”
“Because then I’ll be kicked out,” I argue. “Lord Asshole is only looking for a pretext. Besides, once the ears, claws and tail come out, my disguise is done.”
He’s talking about the bullying, of course, which started from day one. Trying to get me to leave. They think that will scare me away. But I’m not leaving.
Oh fuck, I’ve gone crazy. Konstam and Darian are right. I should leave. What’s keeping me here? She’s getting ready for her wedding, and I’m wandering the halls like a wraith, except when?—
Two men leap on me as I cross the yard, returning to the manor, pulling me to the ground. What an idiot, too distracted by thoughts of her, instead of being on my guard. After all, who’s to say Lord Asshole isn’t just trying to scare me, but tasked his men with offing me?
With a grunt, I shove one off me, sending him flying against a low wall, and turn my attention to the second one. I twist about and get my hands around his neck.
That’s when I realize he has a knife.Fuck.My suspicions aren’t that far-fetched, I think, when he presses the tip of the blade against my side.
Shift,a voice in my head says, and even without its encouragement, my body is subtly starting its change, as it does whenever I’m in a fight-or-flight situation.
Pulling the shift back is a bitch. Then I think—He has a blade? I have ten.
And let my claws out, pressing them on either side of his ribcage. I watch his eyes go round, and the color run out of his face.
His knife clatters to the ground when he realizes I can kill him before he even shouts for help. “Don’t,” he hisses. “Let me go.”
“Tell your friends to stop coming after me,” I hiss back, “and it’s a deal.”
“The lord… I can’t…”
“Fuck off.” I let him go, hiding my claws behind my back until I relax enough to retract them. “I said, run along now. I don’t have time for this shit.”
He turns and flees, and the urge to chase him down and finish him off has my teeth grinding together. This type of chase is a different kind of pleasure. Not sexual, just… gratifying.
Breathing hard, still annoyed with myself for getting caught off guard, I pace the yard up and down until my shift is reversed and my nails return to their normal shade and size. I pat my ears to check they aren’t animal ears, pat my ass for the tail.
I’m good. Ready to go back inside and continue this charade.
Then I stop in my tracks, because the most beautiful woman in the whole fucking world appears. She’s a vision, with her dark hair pulled back, a few loose strands teasing her long neck, her mouth like a rosebud. Her long, yellow and green dress seems to glow, flowing over her precious curves.
“Rosie,” I whisper, dropping to my knees, because damn, she’s a goddess and I can’t stand it. Can’t take it. “My Rosie.”
“Valen?” She frowns and hurries toward me. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“Not anymore,” I growl, leaping back to my feet and striding over to her. “You’re crying. What did he do now?”
“It’s not… it’s you.” She shoves me away, or tries to. “This is your fault.”
“What is?”
