Page 152 of Bride of Choice

“What they then?” he prodded, nudging me as if to kickstart my brain as I suddenly stopped talking.

Frowning, I stirred a small pat of butter around in the pan. “I honestly don’t know anymore.” The idea of them not being mine bothered me, so much so there was a whole other layer of a belly ache eating at me. “If I’m not really theirs, and vice versa, not in any true kind of sense, what the fuck are we?” Frowning, I set the spatula-like utensil in my hand down. A deep groan left me. “This is all so confusing.”

Kooky sent me a commiserating look. “They no know. Not Jo fault.”

“Don’t put it all on them. I have no problem accepting my part in this shit show. I’m no angel.” A small, self-deprecating laugh left me. “God knows I’m not.”

“Eh.” Kooky turned to me then, gripped my chin in his hand, and bent to lean down, getting right in my face. “No. Jo no say that,” he rumbled out sharply.

I blinked and gaped at him a little at the rebuke. He pulled back just in time before I spluttered out a laugh, right in his dead serious freaking face.

“Alright… I won’t.” I sounded full of sass but my heart was swelling up bigger than I was pretending my head was.

“Goot,” he grunted out.

As we ate at the table, I chose to sit next to him this time as opposed to across. Scooching in closer than necessary as we ate, noting he had to tuck his elbow in, I was that far into his personal space, he grunted noncommittally but didn’t say a word.

Once he’d finished eating, I licked my dry lips, wondering if I was really going to do this, to just go for it with him.

“Kooky?”

The male I’d come to know and trust more than anyone finished off the water in his mug and glanced down at me. Pausing at the look in my eyes, he shifted a little, putting a smidgeon of space between us.

Confidence dimming, I knew if I didn’t gather up the nerve to do it now I might never.

Saying his name softer, he responded as I’d hoped he would, bending down to lean in closer.

When I leaned in closer, his eyes darkened, throat working as he swallowed hard. “Jo…” he murmured softly.

I heard it then, in his tone, and knew I’d erred.

“Sorry,” I blurted, quickly pulling back. Face flaming, I washed my dishes and babbled some short excuse about being tired and hurried from the room with my tail tucked between my legs.

It was probably the nicest rejection I’d ever gotten but it somehow felt crueler than when Bum-bum was shouting at me to leave.

Crawling into bed, I turned the light out and stared into the dark.

After everything that’s happened in the woods and the creatures that dwell within, it all somehow seemed more ominous, isolating, being all alone in this huge bed in this enormous room. Huddling down into the blankets, I jerked them up past my chin.

It served as a good distraction from Kooky turning me down. So much so, I found it hard to think of little else as every little sound sent me jumping.

After a while I gave up trying to sleep at all. The urge to crawl under the bed and camp out there was strong.

A few hours into feeling like a kid afraid of the dark, I turned on the light beside the bed and reached for my favored furball filled monster romance. Staring at the cover on the front longingly, I had to face it. That was never going to be me. I was doomed to live this half-life, tied to males that had no intention of finishing that next step, solidifying our bond. Might as well start drinking unicorn blood now.

Thinking of the only unicorns I knew of in existence in Yetidom, I shuddered and huddled down into the bedding harder. Anybody even thinks of touching my Baby for anything other than pets and sweetness was going to eat lead.

Cracking my book open, I tried to read but those damn intrusive thoughts and cringing over the stunt I’d pulled in the kitchen haunted me.

By the time the sun was peeking in through those enormous front room ceiling windows, I was about ready to scream.

Hearing footsteps approaching, I quickly rolled over, offering him my back, and feigned sleep.

“Jo?” Kooky called out softly, as I faked a light snore.

My heart was pounding a mile a minute. Assume I’m having a nightmare and leave me be, I silently begged.

It took everything in me not to cringe away as the bed dipped and creaked with his weight.

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