Page 33 of Blood of the Ruthless

He’s tactful, as always, but I have the same question, so I let it go.

“We’ve learned a few things about how to treat Cassia from all of this.” Cobar sighs, his words accurate, even though her name brings me pain. “If she were still here, we’d likely have just been pursuing her like assholes, making her hate us more with every day. But the time away has given us time to think. When we get her back, I’m sure we’re all going to handle her differently. And this time, we’ll know she wants to be with us.”

We all end up nodding in agreement. He’s not wrong about that. Each of us did something that overwhelmed or downright ran her off, although he may be wrong about us finding her again, and about her ever wanting us.

Cobar leaps to his feet with an energy I can’t imagine feeling and sticks one arm out and the other is at his waist. He fake waltzes around the fire we’ve built like a prince from a fairy tale. “We’ve got to woo her when she gets back. Take things slow and be romantic. Just because she’s our mate doesn’t mean she’s automatically going to fall in love with us. Something we now know.” He pauses to dip the imaginary Cassia. It’s a comically low dip. Her hair would drag on the ground if she was really in his arms.

“Graceful,” Zane says, an almost smile on his lips.

“Only the best for my lady!” Cobar says, bowing to all of us.

Zane shakes his head, but I guess he’s decided to play along. “I’m going to take her to the library when we get back. For some reason, I think she’d like that.”

“I’m going to take her on a moonlit stroll and plan a surprise picnic for her,” Cobar says, sitting back down with a satisfied look on his face.

I shake my head, finish my food, and move to my blankets. The others follow suit until we’re all lying around the warm fire, staring up at the stars. Four men with broken hearts ready to do anything and everything to escape the misery we’re in.

“I wonder if she likes to fish,” Zane says, his words loud in the silence. “I’d take her out on the frozen lake, and we could ice fish. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

“That sounds terrible,” Forrest replies, and shoots him a dirty look. “What? It does. Who wants to sit on a frozen lake and fish for hours?”

“We could find a way to fill the time,” Zane says, raising his eyebrows.

“Back to getting in her pants, are you?” Cobar asks, the firelight dancing in his eyes.

“What about you Sulien?” Forrest turns to me.

I don’t have a response. I don’t have anything in mind past saving her from whoever has her right now. I shrug. “I’m not good at wooing.”

“That’s not a lie,” Cobar laughs and lays back on the pallet he’d set out for himself before turning to Forrest. “Are you going to take your kids hunting?”

All any of us hear about is how the Fall Court hunts. They’re experts. Everyone learns to hunt from the smallest child to the biggest warriors. No one’s exempt. We’ve even gone hunting with Forrest a time or two, but it was mostly him boasting, and us trying to figure out what the hell to do.Of course, Forrest is going to take his kids hunting, how else will he remind all of us what a big, tough man he is?

“I’m absolutelynottaking my kids hunting.” Forrest practically growls the words, and all of us turn and look at him, confused as hell. His expression shifts to one I don’t recognize. “Since we’re all sharing a bride, I think I can trust you all and finally tell you the truth. Ihatehunting.”

Our mouths all hang open. We look around at each other, but none of us speak. Not liking hunting as a Fall Fae is like not liking the sun as a Summer Fae, or not liking the cold as a Winter Fae.

“Are you joking?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No child of mine, no prince or princess, will ever have to know what it’s like to stalk prey, to hunt regardless of the weather or terrain, to sleep outside or suffer in the elements. I don’t care what the other fae think, my children will never hunt unless he or she wants to, and then it’ll be done safely.” He says the last part through clenched teeth.

How could this be true? It’s the fate of his progeny to be hunters. That’s what his courtis.

He glares into the fire and continues, running a finger along the scar on his face. “My children will never know what it is like to be maimed because their father cared more about the hunt than his own kid.” His eyes glisten, and my heart wrenches for him. He’s never said anything about his scar before. We all assumed it was from hunting, but also figured he has some arrogant tale about the damn thing.

“I didn’t know,” I say.

Forrest stares into the fire. “I have nightmares about it. Nightmares that make me want to rip my father’s heart out and burn it to ash.”

Hate for a father. That I understand. Perhaps we all understand.

But it’s Cobar who answers. “Nightmares are the worst.” Then, he shivers.

“It seems even royalty carry their difficulties.” And Zane is right. We do.

“Demons we should do our best to work out while our bride is away,” Cobar says, then glances in my direction.

I stiffen.Does he know?I mean, I know he suspects many things, but does he know how deeply my demons have weaved trouble through the past few days?

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