Maeve
I’m an idiot. I can’t even look at my reflection in the mirror without blushing so deeply I feel actual heat shimmering across my cheeks. I listen to Soren’s deep, monotone voice as he speaks to Helena, the old witch who owns this house, this clinic deep in the woods, in the other room while I dress. It’s nightfall, but the passage of time today has been nothing but hazy. A storm of epic proportions raged, flooding the forest, swelling every creek and washing out the narrow roadways that connect the smallest, most rural villages to the large towns and cities in the Roguelands.
Soren says that’s in our favor, but I’m still not sure why he’s being hunted or how. I destroyed his silver band. The Viper, whoever she is, can’t possibly have a way to track him down now, right?
I try to swipe the Viper from my mind, but she works for Hannibal. Soren is a direct link to the most wanted man in the Allied Kingdoms, and I’m… I’m here, with him. I’m… I’m having a hard time not looking at him while my chest aches, and my body does this weird thing where I get all hot and unsteady. And… I kissed him a few hours ago–terribly. Horribly. My lower lip is slightly bruised from it, and the thought makes my stomach twist with sudden embarrassment.
What was I thinking? What drove me to act so stupidly?
But then he’d… kissed me back. Just a touch of his lips against mine. He’d been so warm, his mouth so inviting, and I’d just sat there, my eyes closing against a sensation that wove through my body like ribbons of pure, unfiltered heat.
He’s fucking with me, obviously. Soren might be warming up to me, but he doesn’t want me in that way. Obviously. Right? I mean, why would he? He doesn’t seem like a relationship kind of guy… because he’s constantly on the run and being an all-around degenerate, but still.
And I’m… I’m going to be Queen of Eastonia in a few short weeks. It’s not imperative I marry. Whoever that is, if it ever happens, will be titleless, a background figure in the royal narrative.
A breeder, essentially.
Because according to what Misty and Aviva know about the Firestone witches, that’s what their men were. Means to an end. A way to make children, daughters in particular.
I’m sure there were great love stories during the golden age of the Firestone reign, but I’m the first in a very long time. I can’t be thinking like that, yearning for a life of warmth, companionship, and family. A life where I roll over in the mornings and feel Soren’s huge, warm, scarred and tattooed hand caress me while he nuzzles my neck, waking me up slowly… taking his sweet time to do delicious, scandalous things to my body–
“Hello?”
“What?” I snap, rising from the edge of the bed so swiftly I lose my balance and trip over the pair of boots I’d been in the process of putting on. Soren stands near the door, his brow pinched and mouth twitching in amusement while I stumble out of the boot and try to tug it back over my toes..
“You good?”
“I’m fine. Why?” Panting, I slide into the other boot and crouch to tie the thick, leather laces.
“You were just sitting there, wide eyed, and didn’t respond when I asked if you were ready to go.” I can feel Soren’s gaze boring holes in the side of my face as I pull up the thick stockings Helena provided me and lower the skirt of the equally thick, corduroy dress. A sweater hangs over my upper body, several sizes too big, but warm. A wool coat hangs on a hook by the door while a hat and mittens rest neatly on a stool right next to where Soren stands, folding his arms over his chest, the material of his thin windbreaker crinkling.
Compared to him, I look like I’m going to an arctic exhibition. He’s in jeans, a T-shirt, and the windbreaker to keep him dry. He dusts a ball cap off on his thigh before putting it on backward, and he looks… he looks good. Very good indeed.
I struggle to swallow past a tight knot in my throat when he smirks at me, raising his brows while I rush past him to stuff my hands in the mittens.
“Think you’ll be warm enough? It’s only, like, seventy degrees tonight.”
“Shut up,” I warn, pulling on the hat, then shrugging into the coat. “I don’t need or desire your commentary tonight, thank you very much.”
“Great,” he quips, turning on his heel. I step into the main room of the cottage where Helena waits, alone, a canvas bag full of medicine and other things I’m not yet privy to hanging from her fingers, which she hands to Soren with instructions to give it to a friend of hers, another witch, the healer of whatever village we’re hiding out in tonight, and for the next several nights, it sounds like.
Helena isn’t one for long goodbyes and simply shuts the door behind us, leaving us out on the porch in the rain.
Soren turns to me, inspects me, and roughly pulls the hood of my wool winter jacket over the top of my head, squishing the hat over my eyes accidentally–or on purpose–I honestly don’t know.
“Hey!”
He waves me off, reaching into his pocket to fish out a long strip of black mesh, which he tears in half using his teeth. “I’m going to set some ground rules before we go,” he grunts, then grabs me by the front of my jacket, yanking me close. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut.”
He roughly ties the fabric over my eyes. It’s already dark as hell outside and pouring rain, but now it’s really hard to see. I swat his hand away but he catches my fingers, shoving them to the side as he adjusts the makeshift mask. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut,” he repeats, “and you’re going to keep this mask on until I tell you it’s safe to take it off. Understood?”
“What’s the point? Helena said the Alpha and Luna of Juniper Grove already know I’m coming.”
“They’ve been told travelers are headed their way,” he corrects, tying the second piece of fabric around his eyes. “Not the Princess of Eastonia. I want to keep it that way.”
“So I have to wear this stupid mask–”
“You have options, Maeve, that we need to discuss.” He steps off the porch, beckoning me to follow. “When we reach Juniper Grove, you can show everyone who you are and ask for help getting home, call your family–”
“That’s out of the fucking question,” I growl behind him as I stomp through ankle-deep water, struggling to see him in the dark.
“Why?”
“Because–because the people of the Highlands are solitary. My grandfather gives them their space to govern as they choose. They’re not technically part of the Roguelands and don’t fall under his, or my grandma’s, jurisdiction.”
“I’m talking about using a phone to call and have someone come rescue you.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because the only person who knows I left to chase you down is Jane, and knowing her, she’s got everything in Moonrise under control.”
“Your mousy little maid is running things? Playing princess–”
“I’m not going to bring my family into this and cause a bigger problem, Soren. Do you think before you speak? What happens if my grandfather comes here and finds you, likely a wanted criminal with a bounty on your head, instead? He’ll save himself the time I’ve wasted and just kill you on the spot.”
“He sounds like a guy I’d like. I can’t wait to meet him,” Soren chuckles. “I’m sure we’d have a lot in common.”
“Like what? Being all dark, brooding, and absolutely fucking insane?”
“Putting up with your bullshit whining, for one.”
I scoff, then kick water at him. He jumps out of the way, shaking his head.
“So we’re back to this, then?” he asks over his shoulder as we tromp through the woods.
“You started it.”
“And I’ll finish it–” He whirls on me, catching me by the shoulders before I run right into him. In a split second, he has me pressed to a tree, his mouth hovering just centimeters from mine. “You need to obey me, Maeve. You need to stay quiet and out of sight. If you’re not going to call for help, I’m your only option. I promised you I’d get you to a train station, and I will keep that promise.” His breath is warm on my cheek as he leans in, his lips hovering over my skin. “But you can’t make this harder for me than it already is.”
“What’s so hard about guiding a helpless woman through the woods?” I argue, gripping his jacket.
He shakes his head, chuckling low and dark, and for a moment, I wonder if this is where I kiss him again. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I want to kiss him. I’m not sure why. I find him infuriating, but also… I love this. This arguing, this heated banter. No has ever gone to bat against me as much, or as long, as he has.
His hands move down my arms as he lingers, rain falling down around us like a scene out of a movie.
But this isn’t a movie.
“Don’t make this hard for me,” he says against my cheek, then yanks me off the tree, whirling us in whatever unknown direction he’s leading me in.
My heart is absolutely thundering and not from the long, wet, dark walk through the forest. I can’t catch my breath after a mile, then another, especially when Soren clutches my hand to help me over increasingly uneven ground while we start to hike up out of the trees. My wet clothes weigh me down, but I’m warm, which was the ultimate goal. With my powers at their lowest, I’m running the risk of another depletion, and I can barely keep my body temperature up, even in the warm, wet, humidity.
Soren’s starting to grumble, however. He takes off his jacket, sighing into the rain while tying it off around his waist. Through the mesh, I can make out a sharp incline and the rainy shadow of the rocks ahead of us, and something else, something big and boxy that makes me reach up and shove the mask up to get a better look.
An old tram station rests in the rain just yards away. Red lights no longer blink on its wires, and the building itself is boarded up, but Soren walks to the door, yanking on the handle before it opens with a pop.
“Come on,” he grumbles, swiping rain away from his face, then pulls his mask down to his neck. I do the same as I follow him into the darkness. It’s a small control room that overlooks a wide, open air platform where two trams rest, long out of use.
I remember my older family members talking about these things, but I’ve never been on one, and I’ve spent very little time in the Highlands.
Soren fumbles with what looks like a radio, glancing at scribbled ink written on the palm of his hand.
“Are we really going on one of those?”
He nods then picks up a receiver, speaking directly into it, “This is Soren. Helena said you’d be waiting for me and a female passenger.” He waits, his eyes on the closest tram, scanning the platform like something is going to jump out and attack us, right here, right now.
An unfamiliar male voice replies through the static, confirming they heard him, then walking him through how to start it up.
In a matter of seconds, the platform explodes with flickering light and the grinding of gears, and then Soren is stuffing me into the tram, shutting the door, and flipping control switches like his life depends on it.
He’s rigid with tension. I know I’m not making his life easy. He’s being hunted and unwilling to talk about why. Even Patton, who seemed to trust me, wouldn’t elaborate about their lives, their jobs, or their boss.
But he’s desperately trying to protect me right now. I can feel it, sense it, damn near taste it with every move he makes. He grunts with effort, struggling to pull a lever, whispering under his breath, “Come on, you fucking bitch…”
I come to his side, curling my hands around his, and pull down.
The lever snaps into position with a jolt that has us bumping into each other. He ropes an arm around my waist to steady me as the tram starts to move, whining and grinding as it climbs up wires hanging precariously over steep ridges and shadowed drop offs.
But my eyes are on his face. I reach up, absently swiping water from his cheekbones. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes and I… I…
“I told you not to make this hard for me,” he whispers over the rain pounding the roof of the tram.
“What am I doing wrong?”
“Maeve,” he says into the palm of my hand, and the kiss he presses there… his eyes locked on mine…
I’m having a difficult time justifying these irrational feelings any longer.
“Soren?” I ask a bit unsteadily. I draw my hand away, swaying on a sudden precipice.
I want him. My body is begging for him. Whatever drops of wolfish blood swimming through my veins are desperate for him.
I clutch his damp shirt. His hand splays over my lower back, his pupils blown wide…
And then light floods the tram as we pull into the station at the very top of the mountain… to safety.