Page 52 of Feral Guardian
I rotate the bear steaks and apply some of my special Illyan island seasoning: sea salt, crushed peppercorn, dried ansarii chili flakes, and cyminum powder. I’m glad my mother urged me to take a pouch with me everywhere.
“Could I have the teeth and claws?” she asks suddenly.
“What for?” I ask, but I think I know.
She worries her lower lip. “When I was trapped in that little alcove with the bear, I had no weapons, no way to defend myself. If I’d had claws, I could’ve at least scratched its nose and afforded myself a few seconds to escape or think, but I had nothing.”
She looks up at me, the fire dancing dangerously over her features, making her look much older than she really is. “I never want to be that vulnerable again,” she says.
“You won’t have to be. I won’t leave you,” I reply. The thought of her mutilating herself any further makes me uneasy. I don’t want her to become a monster like me.
“That’s not good enough, Alastair. You can promise me, and you can do your best, but something will happen. Someway, somehow, we’ll be separated, and I’ll be dead without the weapons to protect myself. I can be disarmed, my dagger taken, but if I have claws—”
She holds up her hands, fingers curling menacingly. “If I have weaponsin me, like your magus ability, I’ll always be a little bit safer.”
I turn the steaks, avoiding her gaze.
“Please, Alastair. Don’t you want me to be safe?” she asks and my heart aches.
“Of course I do, but I also want you to be whole,” I say.
She cocks her head. “How will I not be?”
“You changed your…your womanhood,” I say.
Heat fills my face, and a scowl comes over hers.
“You transformed the most delicate, feminine part of yourself, a part for creating new life, into a thing for killing. I don’t want to see that happen to all of you. I don’t want you to change.”
Her scowl softens and she comes to me, kneeling beside the fire. She puts her hand on my knee, and her green eyes glimmer in the firelight. “I’m still me, Alastair. I’m still Lily.”
My throat tightens and I swallow past it.
“Before we get home, I’ll undo all my changes. I’ll be the soft, delicate thing you want me to be. Okay?” she asks with a sweet smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
My hand comes up to her face without permission, and my thumb traces the dimple in her cheek. “I don’t want you soft and delicate. I want you happy.”
Her eyes round and her lips fall open gently as she sucks in a breath. “I’m happy right now.”
My thumb moves along her full lower lip. “Good.”
The fog lifts from my mind and I realize how I’m touching her.I pull away and clear my throat, reiterating again, “Good.”
She moves back to her spot by the fire, and we watch the meat sizzle in silence. When the steaks are done, I pull one of the pikes from the ground and hand it to Lily.
“Thank you,” she says, her eyes locked on the meat.
“You’re welcome.”
Without hesitation, she bites into the flank and tears away a mouthful. She moans in delight. “So good.”
It’s just for the food. Nothing else. No need to get excited.
I bite into my own bear steak and confirm it’s true. The seasoning plus the smoke of the fire has mixed to create a wonderful flavor. The fatty juices drip down Lily’s chin as she takes another bite. I can’t help but imagine another juice dripping down her face and have to look away.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and chuckles. “Not very princess-like.”
“It’s just us and the trees,” I say.
