And her name is…

Over the week I expected Kheliq to return but he doesn’t. The guards tell their other parts the deal at shift change and they’re just as excited. There are three groups of six that watch me during the day and night so I have 18 names to learn. I’m three days in when I’ve figured them all out but I still pretend to get them wrong.

Four days in and start openly getting more of them right and I tell them it’s their eyes that give them away. The next day they all start wearing sunglasses, so I give it a day and then I tell them it’s their hair that helps me. Just as I expected, the next day they all start wearing hats and telling me to learn their names by their smiles. It’s not so hard, their chins are very distinct, but I’m not about to tell them that.

Wulfric came down once in the middle of the week, telling the men to fight amongst themselves for who would stay behind on their last big hunt. His eyes had wondered to me and I had returned his stare until he left. The guards had started talking to me again and had questioned my ability to return his look to which I said ‘what’s he going to do? Kidnap and torture me?’ .

Two of them chuckled, which was more than I expected.

-

It must be night because Wulfric has my dinner and I feel stronger. It’s been easier to siphon small amount of energy from the guards now that they’re speaking to me. It’s always easier to get what you want when people are distracted with something else. A little ‘look over here’ while you take from over there.

Wulfric looks at me wearily, but places down my tray and slides it gently through the gap.

“You look a little better,” he says cautiously.

“Don’t let looks fool you,-“ I grin. “-I still feel like shit.”

He gives a polite chuckle as I go over to pick up the tray before asking, “has he been back down since?”

I shake my head as I bite off a piece of bread with a plain smothering of butter. “Surprisingly no, not since the afternoon after your hunt.”

He winces slightly. “So that’s where he marched off to so fast.”

I chuckle. “From the looks of him, I’m guessing he either fell off his horse or lost the trail he was following.”

“Little bit of both,” Wulfric admits and I laugh. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” I garble out around a bit of raw vegetables.

“Laugh,” he returns, ironically chucking.

I shrug letting a small smirk cross my face as I say honestly. “Picturing Kheliq burning alive helps.”

Though I’d rather drain the life from him until he’s just dust in the wind.

He stops laughing and looks at me. “That’s my king you’re talking about.”

I take him back by laughing again. “And do you blame me? Don’t answer that, of course you don’t, you’re just brainwashed into defending him after years of doing it. Let me guess, raised as childhood friends in preparation for the days you’d spend at his side?”

His eyes lock with mine but he doesn’t say anything. His silence says everything I need him to and I nod while I move on to the protein on my plate.

“I may have been raised with thehumans, but I’m not stupid. Your loyalties are bred from as young as possible, and I have to say that I was never born with such… restrictions. Everyone I trusted is dead, and as much as I want to hope someone will come for me no one is coming. And as sad as that is, I know that, even as humans, if any of them were alive they would try. People in your world aren’t rescued, others are just promoted.”

I expect him to argue with me but he doesn’t, just pauses thoughtfully. “I wasn’t really looking to get into a debate about politics with you little mouse, but thanks for reminding me that I’mreplaceable,” he smirks at me and I don’t know why I find it so.. cute?

It doesn’t even look like he’s angry at me, just.. torn. Like he was telling me the truth about questioning his leadership last week. I can’t put my eggs in that basket though, and my plans will not change because of him.

I shrug again. “Aren’t we all replaceable to someone?” I ask in return, looking over my plate as I mop up the small amount of sauce with the last of my bread.

I move to the bars and slide the tray under out of habit. He doesn’t open the door when I place down the tray so I return to sitting on my cot. After a minute, I raise one eyebrow at him in question but he doesn’t speak.

“As much as I love awkward silence and consistent eye contact, I have 18 other people that give me that 24/7 so….. you lose points for originality,” I explain conversationally.

He laughs, and the sound is like leather that’s been left in the sun. It’s warm and rugged, and it’s the most genuine I’ve ever seem him. I feel my smirk slipping and I try to pin it back into place but it moves into a smile.

“You aren’t like other women around here. While they’re quick to speak their minds they’re not funny. They’d much sooner try to make you cry as laugh. To tell you the truth, the only reason the men are in power is because we were in a time of peace.” He stands up, shaking his head and picks up my tray to put on the table.

I don’t want to sound desperate, but a bigger part of me wants to stir the pot. “I don’t get a shower this week?”

He places the bar over the door to leave. It’s the only exit down here and I’ve only seen the bar used during Kheliq’s torture when he didn’t want to be interrupted. My whole body goes rigid in seeing him use it now and my hand moves to my throat at the last memory of Wulfric being angry.

When he turns back around he’s smirking and holding a bottle of what looks like wine, but his face falls when he sees my face. “What is it?”

My eyes dart to the door and back to him before I can stop myself. He follows my gaze and his shoulders relax as he walks back over to me.

“Two of the guards are twins, and they’re from a high ranking family. I offered them a night off to celebrate their birthday for some team bonding, or whatever. I thought, I know it’s late, but I brought some wine for your belated birthday.” His offer seems genuine, and honestly if it was poison he wouldn’t need to work so hard to give it to me; the same could be said for any other drugs the wanted to slip me.

“Why bother?” Okay, I sound like a brat, but I can’t help it.

“Because I don’t think you’re the villain they think you are,” he returns too easily.

Yeah, not yet maybe.

“You aren’t worried about being alone with me?” I challenge.

I mean, he is safe from me right now. I’m not quite ready to try my escape again, even though he did let it slip that a lot of the other guards will be drunk by now. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to try it now, but I’m still not strong enough.

It was his turn to be nonchalant and shrug. “You might be able to kill me, but I’m willing to bet whatever reason you have to not do that now is the same as last week.”

Somewhere he finds the gaul to pull the cork free with his teeth and spit it off to the side like some badass. He takes a big swig of the wine and then unlocks my cell. I feel less like a prisoner and more like a toy he’s letting out of the box.

I want to squirm at the thought, but something about that feels liberating. I have been a toy for them since I got here, and now they’re going to find out why Sioga women lead and the men follow.

—

I stand up and walk towards him as he sits in one of the chairs, but instead of taking the seat beside him I sit over his leg.

“Happy birthday to me,” I whisper, though I’m not sure why I’m bothering when we’re alone.

“How old are you?” He returns, handing me the bottle.

“Old enough to drink,” I reply before taking a deep drink and hope it doesn’t make me sloppy.

“Have you ever drank before?” He questions me, eyeing the amount missing when I hand it back.

“Small town, remember? I knew the men who ran the brewery and distillery by their first name and family secrets,” I chide, watching his own throat bob with the drink.

“Their secrets?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I shrug.

“I was well respected, knew everyone, and helped often. When you’re around people a lot, they slip up or let you in on their secrets on their own.”

His eyes drop and I know he’s thinking about how all of those secrets now only live with me. I haven’t been sad about it yet. I have been living with their loss as anger since I got here and I’m not about to let that change in front of Wulfric. When I let the sadness break through, and I think about just how many lives were sacrificed to take me away, I’m not sure a little special wine will be enough.

He looks over me in blatant appraisal while taking a deep drink, polishing off over half the bottle. “He really fucked up with you,” he said suddenly and I blanched.

“What?”

“You’ll be the death of him for sure.”

I looked up to meet his eyes and then scan over the rest of his face. His pupils are blown out and his cheeks were a light pink. I watched his eyes look over me and he licks his lips slowly.

I can’t help but giggle, “you’re drunk.”

“I may have taken the bottle after stopping by the party.” His crooked smile makes me laugh, and the sound is more genuine than any of my others.

“That was beautiful.”

I’m confused about what he means, but when I look at him he’s grinning at me. His eyes are hooded and I feel a heat rise in my chest. I can’t handle the way his expression seems to appreciate me and take the bottle, filling my mouth twice before pulling it away.

My head is swimming through the fog of my slower reflexes, my body feels like I’m floating, then he wraps his arm around me to pull me in closer. His hand slips under the back of my shirt and his thumb rubs a small area of my lower back which has me closing my eyes and I’m moaning before I can stop myself.

“Does that feel good, little mouse?” He seems surprised but I nod, resulting in his hand travelling farther under my shirt and over my back.

I want to say it’s his warm hands over my aches and pains again, but I know I’d be lying. His big hands, holding me close,.. For a second I could forget I’m a prisoner here and really, right now, thats what I want. So I move in closer to him, take the bottle, and down almost the entire other half. He helps me with it, holding the bottle up with me until my throat has carried three mouth fulls, apparently sending them directly to my head.

He’s still holding it up but I suddenly feel starved for oxygen and forget how to breathe through my damn nose. I try to tip the bottle upright at the same time I remove my mouth from its opening. Wine pours over my shirt front and soaks into the chest wrap making my shiver, but Wulfric just holds the bottle out to the side and looks at me incredulously.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to calm the swaying in my head and the heat rushing over my body. I’m definitely drunk and, by the tingling over my skin replacing the general aches, I’m okay with that.

I feel a tongue on my jaw line where some of the wine ran down my skin and I still. His tongue trails down my neck where I know the wine didn’t touch and then I feel his sharp but gentle nibble on my shoulder.

My eyes fly open but I don’t move an inch for fear his teeth will tear me. “You’re of those with fangs,” I gasp thinking of where we are and manage to say the next bit only in my head.

You don’t belong here.

As if my statement was a reminder to him I feel his teeth puncture my skin and shriek. No one has ever bitten me before, not a partner or animal in existence, and tasting my blood this way feels far toopersonal. Still be doesn’t even seem to be drinking it as he bites me again farther over on my shoulder after tearing my shirt from the neckline to the arm hole. The shirt falls open revealing the top of the chest wrap but nothing revealing as the blood runs down into the fabric.

He seems distracted by his own actions, not drinking or removing his teeth from my skin but the feeling is uncomfortable and I whimper. This brings him around and he pulls away, blinking slowly at me.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, looking me in the eyes. “I don’t know what came over me… You should shower.”

I nod, needing the space and go to turn the water on, not thinking about the action until he asks, “how did you do it?”

“Do what?” I don’t test the water before removing my clothes and tossing them aside, standing in just my under clothes and ignoring the pain in my shoulder.

“Rust metal and rot wood,” he specifies and I still, but only in my racing mind as my body sways with the wine.

Half truths. “Because I needed to do something. I couldn’t do it now if I tried.” Which is true; I’m far to tipsy and weak for that magic right now.

He looks at me curiously before walking over and brushing my hair off the shoulder he’d bitten into. “Does anyone else ever see you naked but me?” I shake my head and he nods. “Good.”