Page 25 of Her Vicious Beasts: The Beginning
Even in their astral forms, their eyes burn holes into me. They are so still, but the energy crackling between us is pulling me towards them. My anima goes wild within me, keening, trying to claw itself out of my skin.
“It’s not that I don’twantto be your regina,” I say quietly, “but you must listen to my words right now. I amnotyour regina.”
The expressions on their faces would make any animalia cower and I’m just grateful I don’t have their actual forms sitting in my car.
“You can fucking feel it,” Savage exclaims. “I know you can!”
I look at him and scream, “Look at my neck!” I jab my finger at my neck, where I know they can’t see our mark. “Can you fucking see anything, Savage?”
He quietens then, staring at my neck, his face stormy with repressed rage. But his presence, Wild Goddess, his presence is a rumbling glimmer at the edge of all things.
Breathing hard, I repeat in a voice of deadly calm, looking my mate in the eye. “Can. You. See. A. Mating. Mark?” I swallow and look at Scythe and Xander in turn. “Because I sure can’t.”
I turn back around, blowing out a god forsaken breath. There’s a curse on me, I just know it. How can someone get so much bad luck in such little time?
Someone shifts behind me and I freeze on instinct as Xander’s molten voice whispers in my ear, so close I swear I feel his breath. “You’re a liar,snake. And when I get out of this dungeon, I’m going to hunt you down.”
My blood rages and my magic flares up. I slam the full extent of my psychic shields down, all but making me invisible. Their astral forms are forced from whatever is tying them to me and sent back into their bodies where they belong.
A presence like the old parts of the ocean sits heavy at the edge of my shield. I’m compelled by a force greater than me to turn around.
Scythe is still sitting there, looking at me. My heart leaps into my throat.
“What the hell…” I breathe.
He cocks his head, assessing me in a purely animal way, completely unbothered by my magical attempts to push himback. No one should be able to fight that. Literally no one except my father.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his damaged, raspy voice when he speaks. And with the full force of the ocean behind the promise in those ice-blue eyes, he says, “I’m going to find out your secret.”
With that, he allows my magic to send him back.
My heart pounds in an unsteady rhythm, and it still does long after I get back on the road.
When I get back home, I’m surprised to see both Uncle Ben and Uncle Ron gardening in the back veggie patch. Ben isn’t supposed to be back for another week.
Ben waves as he sees me drive in and it’s like the pressure of everything that’s just happened recedes. Grinning, I wave back. He’s the only half decent person in my father’s court. He’s never hissed at me, never glared, never done anything other than treat me like a real person. Ron, on the other hand, looks at me warily and heads back inside the house with a plastic bowl full of freshly pulled carrots.
I race out of my car to go and see him. He’s not a handsome guy, my Uncle Ben, but I’ve always found a real beauty in his rounded face and kind eyes. He’s pale from his mining work, red-cheeked from weeding in the sun, and he sweeps off his straw hat as I reach him.
“Hi, Uncle Ben!” I say excitedly. “You’re home early.”
“Yes, love,” he says, and I can’t help but notice his smile is strained. “How are you?”
“Oh, just great,” I lie. “Is everything alright with work?”
He grimaces and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s going alright, up there. Busy, you know.”
Behind him, Aunt Charlotte opens the kitchen window and Ben whirls around to see her glaring at us. She must’ve closed the shop early today, and I wonder if she knows about my father’s plans. She’d never say anything to me though. The loyalty between the two siblings is like cement.
Ben’s cheeks flush as he turns back around. All this worries me. Perhaps all isn’t well at the mines. Whatever it is, though, I’m sure my father will fix him up with a better job.
“I’ll bring you some dinner tonight,” he says quietly. “Ron’s making spaghetti meatballs.”
“My favourite.” I grin.
All dinners that aren’t two-minute noodles are my favourite.
Chapter 17
