Page 37 of The Howling
So, things happening to me, scratch that. I’m going to take control of my new destiny. First things first, I’m not going to let what Lord Guyzance did define me.
Second thing…I need something else to wear. Because I’m not wandering around this place like a cut price Miss Haversham until the Barghest somehow proposes marriage properly.
And I get the opportunity to tell him where to shove it.
Even if he did decide to parade his friend (is Fenrother a friend? I can’t quite get the image of Reavely gnawing on the dragon tail out of my mind) and Alice as if that might be a way of convincing me this is all entirely natural and not weird at all.
To end up in a soul eater’s castle, with only a wedding dress to wear.
The door to the bedroom slams open. Reavely pauses mid step.
I pull the fringed, red brocade throw over myself and glare at him. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
“I did not intend disturbing you, my mate.”
“You keep using that word like you know what it means,” I grumble at him.
“Barghests have packs. I know what a mate is,” he says grumpily.
“You mean there were more packs than yours?” I ask.
“No, mine was the last. Even before the Reaper took me, we had areputation,” he says, glaring past me over my shoulder. “Some parts of the Yeavering were jealous of us because we didn’t bow down to the Faerie. It resulted in extermination.”
I put my hand to my mouth.
“Extermination?”
“If they thought the Barghest were harbingers before me, I made sure they knew what I became after I lost my pack,” Reavely growls.
I feel like my problems pale into insignificance in the face of a creature who has lost every living relative and every one of his species.
“So, you are the only one left?”
Reavely lifts up his chin. “Yes, and I am the most feared.”
“Okay…” I watch as he draws himself up to his full height. He’s reverted to being shirtless again, so it makes his very prominent abs ripple impressively under their light coating of fur. “I suppose a creature who takes souls for a living should be.”
Reavely growls under his breath. “This was not my choice. Serving the Reaper is my curse.”
“You’re cursed?” I see him in a new light. “You don’t want to take souls?”
Reavely shakes his head, and for a brief instant, I see something other than the huge, dangerous, feral creature who haunts this empty castle and stalks the Yeavering, putting everything else in fear.
I see a lonely, cursed monster, who has nothing left to live for.
It makes my heart ache like it hasn’t in years. I have to be coming up to my period or something as tears prick at my eyelids and I dash them away.
“I don’t want to take your soul, Wynter,” Reavely says, closing the gap between us, taking hold of my elbows and drawing me to him. “The Reaper cannot have you.”
“I know, I know.” I sigh. “I belong to you.”
Even as I say the words, attempting to infuse them with some sarcasm, I hate myself a little bit for dismissing him.
I don’t even know him.
“You do,” he rasps.
“What I would really like is for some clothing other than that damned dress to belong to me.” I stare at the centre of his chest and then realise I rather like the abs a bit too much, so I drag my gaze up to his face instead.
