Page 62 of Blood Red Woes

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I bite my bottom lip and turn my head to look at him. Don’t know what I expect, but he’s staring at me instead of the field we’re overlooking. I use this opportunity, with the quiet air around us, to take him in again.

Half a decade older than me, maybe in his mid-twenties, with light brown hair that’s maybe an inch or so too long, a little messy. His amber eyes seem blacker in the night, but with the moonlight overhead, I can see the way his brow is furrowed as he looks at me, how his mouth is tugged into a concerned line. His jaw is dotted with short stubble, the kind of thick stubble only a man could have, not some teenager who just hit puberty a few years ago.

He’s cute. Not drop-dead gorgeous in a pantie-wetting way, but very cute. Bookish, kind of nerdy, but cute.

I don’t know what gets into me, but I let my gaze fall to his mouth. It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone. Even longer since I did more. His hand did feel nice around mine earlier, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

It’d be nice to feel good for the first time in forever…

I don’t think about it. I lean into him and press my mouth against his. The action must stun him, because he doesn’t kiss back right away. It’s like he’s temporarily frozen, his brain needing time to put two and two together.

And then it finally clicks in his head, and he brings a hand to the side of my face and kisses me back. Softly, sweetly, a tender touch that warms me everywhere.

Of course, it doesn’t even occur to me that maybe he didn’t kiss me back immediately because he’s never kissed anyone before, since there aren’t exactly a lot of women his age left in Laconia.

It’s a nice kiss. Not super passionate, but given everything that happened, everything I went through to get here, passion is the last thing that’ll come naturally. This is more of a letting-down-my-walls kind of thing, relaxing when I’ve been on-guard twenty-four hours a day, each day, since I got here. This is me wanting to let go.

The kiss deepens, and it’s then I wonder what it means for Frederick. Maybe it means more. Maybe it means too much and I’m only leading him on.

But, fuck, it’d be nice to let go for a night. To find a bed somewhere and get some real stress relief.

I don’t know what it is, if it’s the possibility that I’m using him, that I’ll only hurt him, but I pull my mouth off his and look away, causing his hand to fall from my face. My lungs burn, my breath coming up short. I can’t look at him, can’t see the expression on his face. If I do… I don’t know what’ll happen, and that scares me more than I want to admit.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “Can I have some time alone?”

Frederick must watch me for a few moments, though I can’t tell how he looks at me since I refuse to meet his eyes after that kiss. But he’s a gentleman, because he eventually moves off the ledge and says, “Of course.” He leaves me after that, though I do swear I hear hesitation in the rhythm of his footsteps.

After a while, I glance over my shoulder just to make sure he’s gone—and he is. I’m alone on the stone ledge overlooking the field.

Alone, like always in this fucking place.

The tattoo on my arm lights up as Rune’s annoyed voice comes alive in my head, “Well, well.” Two words—one, really, repeated twice—and yet never before have two words irritated me to no end.

“Shut up,” I hiss.

“Of course. You want me to be quiet while you chase after him.”

“Says the man with no body,” I snap. “Jealous again, I think. So jealous of the man who actually has a body and who can use it. Do you even remember what it’s like? Do you remember what it’s like to kiss or get laid?”

Rune is silent, but I can practically feel him seething.

“That’s what I thought,” I tell him with a frown. “If I want to go after Frederick, I will, because I’m human. I have needs. I’m allowed—”

“Don’t you think you have other, more important things to take care of right now rather than chasing your animalistic urges with a man who will never understand you?” The tone he uses is one laced with a mixture of superiority and aggravation, a jealous sort of venom. “You do realize that, don’t you? Frederick is a nobody. He—”

“And what are you?” I’m practically yelling at my own arm now. “You’re an ex-wizard with no body trapped inside a fucking tattoo.” God, this guy pisses me off so much. I want to scrape off the goddamned tattoo just to get him off me.

“A rune,” he corrects me, but I keep going.

“An ex-wizard with no body because, in case you forgot, the empresses of Laconia decided they hated you and wanted to strip you of everything you were, so they put you into a fucking crystal!”

The tattoo on my arm shimmers. “Soul gem,” he hisses, his accented voice heavy and acidic. “So yes, forgive me if I’m not content with sitting idly back while you chase after a man when you could be doing something to help us both!”

I bare my teeth at the tattoo, like Rune can see me. “Maybe you don’t deserve help.”

His reply is ready, and it cuts through me like a knife: “And maybe you don’t deserve to go home.”

My nostrils flare. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your attitude.”

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