Page 59 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Mate.”
He chuckles. Kisses me. Gives a breathy groan when I pump him harder.
“First, I’ll lick it.” His finger strokes along my inner thigh, inching toward my slit. “Then I’ll rim it.” His tongue traces circles on my cheek, winding closer to my lips. “Then I’ll stretch it with my tongue.” He licks along my lower lip. “I’ll make it fit,” he whispers against me. “And you’ll love it. You’ll learn to love it.”
My heart stutters. I fist his hair, yank his head, and force him to meet my eyes. The black is gone. The spikes, horns, and the blue skin are gone. There is no mocking amusement, either. Just blue, vulnerable eyes and a handsome face overcome with longing. His expressionless mask slams up—and he’s gone, leaving me clutching cold air.
I close my eyes and try to work through what just happened. My chest is tight and aching. It’s that place I always react when my mates are near. I rub it, hoping to ease the pain, but it refuses to budge. It needs to be fed, to be touched. Styx has left me bereft. Empty.
That wolfish part of me is an emotional, irrational bitch. Right now, she wants to howl with indignation. She wants her pack. She aches for their comforting warmth. That bitch can also be a possessive, feral predator when she sees her mate suffering. Unfortunately for me, she also isn’t that smart. She acts on instinct. She hurts things. People.
Flexing my aching fists, I pace in the snow and welcome the numbness climbing up my limbs. My crunching footsteps hurtle me into the past, to another time I paced in the snow with Rory by my side. I was eleven and had been in Crystal City for five years.
“Stop crying, Willow,” Rory growls at me. “Before he hears you.”
“But it’s cold. I want to go inside.” I stumble to a halt, my tears turning to ice on my face. “The other kids are learning to dance, and I’m?—”
“Hush.” She crouches before me and takes my shoulders, gripping me hard as she hisses, “He’s just over the hedge, sitting on the bench by the fountain.”
“But Alfie and?—”
She shakes me until my teeth rattle and my tears renew. Pain and guilt enter her eyes, now glistening like mine. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, tugging me close and cupping my hair with her gloved hands. “Willow, learn this lesson. Learn it now and learn it good.” She holds me tight and strokes my hair. Her voice wavers with sadness. “Dispose of emotions, or he will use them to exploit you. He will find your friends, punish and even kill them to make you obey. Trust me, darling. It’s better to keep a clear mind and focus on the task at hand.”
“I hate him.”
“No . . . even this emotion is wasted. He can use it against you, too. If it’s not him, then it’s your enemy using it. Emotion is the key to finding your weak spot. Lock it all down. Erase it from your mind. Only then can you fly free.”
“But that feels wrong.”
“You’ll learn to love it.” She gives me a sad smile, eyes glimmering as she looks at the wall keeping me from my home. “And at least the world will still turn.”
“What do you mean?”
She deadpans. “I meant, at least you’ll still be alive.”
I look at my blood-stained fingers turning blue under the moonlit sky. I was never good at following Rory’s rules. My emotions are too big. Too demanding. Whether it’s love, hate, or anything in between—it’s there, smack bang in the center of mychest, begging for a connection I don’t know how to make. I fall hard onto my ass, my head in my hands.
I don’t know how to be a wolf. I don’t know how to be fae. I don’t know how to be human. I certainly don’t want to be a queen. So how the fuck can I be what Fox wants me to be—their source of unconditional love? How can I reunite my hive if I keep causing trouble?
If I lose my temper like that outside of Burn After Reading, I put a target on those I’m trying to protect. Not just on the Six, but Geraldine, Peggy, and Max. Anyone I care about will suffer because of me.
I’m so glad they weren’t there to witness that. So grateful no one will remember because that darkness only scraped the surface of what I’m capable of. Bodin said he was open to helping me make a blood connection through water to speak with my parents, but I can’t let them see me like this. I can’t do it.
I’m not sure how long I sit there staring at my numb fingers, but when rustling and crunching announce Bodin’s arrival, I pretend to do what Rory taught me. I dispose of emotion and face him with thinly veiled bravery.
He helps me to my feet with pity in his eyes.
“Styx was here,” I say, teeth chattering. “Then he went.”
“He’s smoothing things over with Cait.”
Relief drops my shoulders. I don’t know why that makes me feel better, but the thought of him being alone doesn’t sit right. “And Legion?”
“Ensuring Styx does as he’s told.” He lifts my swollen knuckles and inspects the wounds. “May I?”
I shake my head and tug my hands, hiding them behind my back. I deserve to feel the pain. The woman I beat up, the one whose eyes—I squeeze my eyes shut.Lock it all down.
His long-suffering sigh reminds me of a parent. It’s a sigh one gives when dealing with a child . . . a naughty and irritating pain in the ass child.
