Page 129 of Deadwood
“That’s the problem,” I muttered.
“But it’s too much for me to tell you all at once. And it’s not solely my decision whether I can tell you all of it or not. The bridge will be back up in a few days, if that?—”
“You’re going to tell me what’s too much?” I dropped my hands. I’d thought we were getting anywhere with our moment in the field. With the shower. With him helping me. I had been a fool to go to him. “Being hidden away from everything my entire life istoo much, Bowen. Being told I can’t handle the truth or that I shouldn’t be told something istoo much. Not being honest with me istoo much. I can’t take it anymore—the deceitful people in my life deciding what I can and can’t know.”
“Yet you defend your father every chance you get,” he bit out.
I couldscream. He didn’t understand any of it. A wolf could be fed by its abuser every day, and it had no choice but to love the hand that fed it, even if it was the same hand that hurt it. When you were given such few options, you worked with what you got. I couldn’t bite the hand that kept me safe. But in thinking that, was I admitting that my father’s treatment of me was unfair? That my home truly was cruel, and I’d simply lived to become accustomed to it? Maybe Bowen’s distaste toward my defending of my father was justified, then. But an outside eye would never understand the comfort hell could provide.
Doing my best to reel in the unruly emotions that refused to stop showing themselves tonight, I said, “I appreciate your help earlier, but like you said, it’s been a long day. Goodnight, Bowen.”
If he saw the hurt in my eyes, he didn’t speak of it. I stepped inside the house, softly shutting the door behind me. Truthfully, my past wasn’t Bowen’s burden. If anything, he was the only one who had given me some sort of reprieve to the silence I’d been given my whole life. My pain was not his fault, nor was the way I grew up. Maybe he was right in that I couldn’t handle all this information at once. After all, I’d only ended up upset with him each time I got a taste of this world.
And maybe, the self-deprecating thoughts spiraling through my mind weren’t anyone else’s fault but my own, too.
CHAPTER 40
BOWEN
The moment Auria shut the door, I was heading in the direction of the saloon. I didn’t want to think of the look of betrayal in her eyes before she disappeared inside. We needed to work on this communication between the two of us?—
I shook my head. She was leaving. There was nothing to work on.
My boots pounded in the mud, globs of it spraying upwards as I walked. If Crass and Nemin thought they could get away with attacking Auria, they had less brain cells than I’d given them credit for. I’d had problems with them playing dirty in the past, but nothing like this.
They hurt her, and that wouldn’t go unpunished.
Finally, my magic whispered in my mind.I’ve been waiting.
“You and me both,” I muttered, mere feet from the saloon.
My smoke was way ahead of me, shoving open the door to the saloon so hard the wood split as it slammed against the wall. Instantly, the tendrils were hunting for them. It was a game we both enjoyed, the predator inside me coming out to play.
The patrons were in pure chaos when I entered, fists aimed at one another, a dagger or two drawn, a gun pointed at some man who probably deserved it, if the blood on his knuckles was any proof of that. A chair was thrown at the wall, breaking into pieces while a table was overturned.
But as my magic’s presence became known by the way it weaved between all of them, searching like a hound its prey, they ceased in their fighting, all heads in the room turning to me.
Raiden would be jealous of how quickly I had been able to stop what had to have begun as a riot and seemingly quickly turned into one side disagreeing with the other. I had no doubt that once Raiden had left here, they had gone back to business. By the looks of the place, I likely wasn’t far off with my assumption.
It was because of Auria.
But so was this.
Ribbons of smoke darted for the back corner, finding my two targets chuckling over a game of poker. The idiots were so wrapped up in their game, they hadn’t even realized my presence like the rest of the place. Those laughs quickly turned to choking as I approached, the smoke taking punishment into its own hands. But I wanted to have my fun, too.
As the other men scattered from the table, chairs knocking over in their haste, I called for the smoke to retreat back to me. It spiraled out of their mouths and nostrils reluctantly, darting around me in clouds of frenzy.
“Bowen,” Nemin stuttered out as Crass’s eyes watered from his coughs. Both their cheeks were beet red. From fear or overindulging in alcohol, I didn’t care. “What are you doing here?”
“My town, isn’t it?” I righted one of the chairs, taking a seat to face them. “Or did you forget that when you went after one of my people?”
Crass, the poor, brainless bastard, snorted. “Your people?”
My smoke didn’t like that. It darted for its target, pooling in Crass’s eyes, swimming around like it enjoyed the pain it inflicted.
I knew I did.
I crossed a leg over my knee, unsheathing a dagger from my boot. “She’s currently under Deadwood’s protection. And, you see, two of Deadwood’s notoriously problematic residents going after her just doesn’t look good.”
