Page 37 of Shifter King
"Given what you’ve done in the past, it is more than justified." He nudged her neck with his nose.
He’d almost lost her.
That was the thought that pulsed through him now. Over and over. She slid her fingers over his. It was true. And the fear that he would lose her...there was no way to hide that.
She rolled over so that she faced him. Though he gave a small grunt of surprise, he adjusted his position to still hold her. She slid her arm around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. Tilting her head to better see him, she whispered, "I’m not going anywhere. Thank you though. For holding onto me and not giving up on me."
"I will never give up on you, veskaro." He nuzzled her, his lips grazing hers. Then he kissed her again, softer and gentler. That edge of hunger had returned. "Never."
She returned the kiss. Even though they were holding one another close, it felt as if there was a gap expanding between them once more. Some great distance. Sorrow pooled within it.
"Do you—do you need to talk?" she whispered.
A long sigh followed as if he didn't want to admit it.
She brushed her hand over his as she sat up. "Let's go out there to talk. QueQoa came in to sleep, and WroOth too I think."
He grunted. "They can sleep through almost anything." Still he was already moving.
She shivered as the coolness of the air rushed about her. She always got so much colder when she slept. With a chirr of frustration, Tacky slid off and then scurried off to join whoever was sleeping in the bed nearer the far wall.
Naatos guided her out to the hall and then into the farthest room in the back. After he lit the torch, he closed the door. The hinges squealed in protest. The shadows dancing on the walls gave the room a rather uncanny look, and the metal table and chairs that had been left here gave it an unpleasant feel similar to an abandoned interrogation room. Fitting, in a twisted sort of way. Some sort of red discoloration marred the otherwise grey-green walls.
She shrugged her shoulders at him, her arms folded over her chest. "What do you want to talk about?"
He braced his hands against the back of the chair as he studied her. She met his gaze. Something was simmering in that skull of his, and she had a feeling she wasn't going to be thrilled about it.
"You look weak," he said at last. "We have to make plans to accommodate your physical appearance as well as your actual limitations. Our enemies will assess our situation and focus on the weakest link, and at this moment, you are fragile enough that you can't even count as a whole link. You look almost as bad now as when we dragged you out of Dry Deep."
"Woo me softly, gentle lover." She raised her eyebrow at him as she rubbed her arms. "What am I to do with all this tenderness? I might swoon."
"You make jokes, but you know I'm right."
"Ki has told me that one of our nicknames is The White-Eyed Death, so it sounds to me like I'm pretty close to being on point. And I can still be terrifying in my own way."
"You two are on a shortened name basis?"
"Apparently." She smiled a little. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't plan on running headlong into danger."
"You rarely do, but it doesn't stop you. And more importantly, it doesn't matter. Since I can't heal you—" he said this grudgingly, gritting his teeth for a moment, —"it is going to take at least another three months for you to get back to where you were. So we need to make you terrifying. Especially with those Bealorns sniffing around you. Because if one group wants you, others will as well. We'd need to do it anyway with you being unable to kill, but it's even more important now. It should go without saying that you mustnevertell anyone you can't kill."
"There goes my plans for my first public service announcement."
"Amelia."
She flashed him a small smile, trying not to think about why this suddenly seemed so important or what it meant for the coming days. "I understand. It's not like I made it a habit of telling anyone before this. But for the record, I can kill. I just start dying really fast as soon as I do. Which is another fact that I won't be disclosing."
"I have a plan for ensuring no one even thinks of harming you, regardless of whether my brothers and I are present," he said. "We have to make preparations before we take Darmoste. So, after we have made preparations to do so, I will go in each night and kill someone horrifically and put them on display and ensure that the credit goes to you. Perhaps two or three people since we are short on time. That way, it will become known that you are without doubt the most dangerous and most violent among us and far more dangerous than you look. My brothers and I will ensure that our tactics are distinct so that you will receive the credit for those."
She dropped her shoulders, staring at him in shock. "You want to frame me for gruesome murders?"
"They'll be people who deserve to die. I will see to that. No innocents."
"I—" She blinked, shaking her head. "I knew you were going to have some sort of plan, but I can't say I expected this. How would you even get people to think it was me?"
"Well, there are a variety of methods. I could impersonate you. We could come up with some kind of signature. And of course when the opportunity arises, you would take credit for it."
"So you want me to be a careless serial killer?" She frowned, almost laughing at the utter ludicrousness of it.
