Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Lepearl stares in mute shock, and leaps to the end of the pier when a flash of light radiates from my man. He starts glowing, as if there were demons attempting to free themselves from under his skin.
“Fuck! Don’t! Hawk! Don’t!” I yell, but take a step back, afraid that in his fury he might take a bite out of my shadow.
To make matters worse, Kick turns into his animal form too, and moments later, the Sunwolf stands on the pier, no longer stuck to Bite.
“Wh-what is that?” Lepearl asks.
Hawk lowers his skull-head with a growl as the kelpie back away. They could easily leap into the water, but I’m guessing they want to stand between the golden beast and their captain.
“No one fight!” I put all my princely authority into my voice. “We can resolve—”
The pier crashes under the combined weight of beasts and elves. With a panicked yelp on my lips, I fall into the dark water.
Chapter 34
Hawk
Ilet myself float in the gentle waves, along with all the wooden debris. But then movement sends bubbles of air my way, making me open my eyes in time to see the weird horse’s hindquarters morph into a twisted fishtail. It resembles the creature featured on the collar we had taken off Sylvan. A merhorse. A… kelpie.
I can’t explain how I went from hanging on to Sylvan’s advice about not interfering to white-shot anger that made the smugglers hostile. It’s ended up with the pier destroyed, and everyone floating in cold water. When I emerge to take in air, the dampness on my face and shoulders evaporates, creating a white cloud of steam that prevents me from seeing the details of my surroundings.
I’m boiling up.
I just want to…
“Sylvan! Where are you?” I ask as soon as my brain is no longer an overheated mass of goo.
“Here!” he yelps, struggling to keep his face above the surface. He’s splashing about like a puppy dropped into water for the first time, his lips wide open and facing the rocky ceiling of the cave. I reach him before he can disappear beneath the surface, and steel myself, in case I need to prevent him from attempting to climb me like the last person I saved from drowning had.
But he’s calm and holds on to my shoulder as I scoop him up with my arm before setting off to where the shore is a mild slope. Both the kelpie and Lepearl are already there by the time we exit the water. I can’t help but stare at the majestic creatures that nevertheless would not be out of place in a gothic horror movie. They’re back to being four-legged animals, but it’s hard to miss features that would be unusual on a regular horse, like the translucent film covering their hooves. Or the fucking skulls they have for heads.
Lepearl glares at us as she takes off her fish bone hat to twist salty water out of her hair. “I don’t know what you are, and frankly, I don’t care! Get out! I don’t want to fight, but if you step anywhere near my ship, I will!”
A tremor passes through Sylvan, but his lips are set, and he nods. “I understand. May I just ask you not to mention this to other captains?”
“Ha, only the ones whose ships I don’t want at the bottom of the ocean,” she shouts back, and that is that.
I let out a howl as the heat within starts once again rising. Alarmed, both the kelpie stand between me and their captain, a direct challenge to the demon inhabiting my blood. But before I can make another mistake, blinded by the fever burning out the insides of my skull, Sylvan grabs my hand, and I relent, like a dog brought to heel.
I want to apologize, to try to negotiate a safe passage for my husband at least—all he did was try to stop me—but when Sylvan tugs on my arm, I follow, leaving the cave with my tail between my legs.
The silence between us is inflamed and uncomfortable like an ulcer developing deep under the skin, but every time I inhale, about to speak, the absolute resignation painted on Sylvan’s face stops me from attempting to excuse my behavior. He doesn’t deserve what I’m unleashing on him. When I remember how I growled at him, the sense of despair inside makes me want to cry.
It’s Sylvan who speaks first once we’re on the coastal path, walking toward fuck knows where. Unlike my rapidly drying clothes, Sylvan’s are soaked, and he trembles from the cold no doubt piercing his flesh even more pervasively now that we’re back at the mercy of the wind.
“Why would you do that? I had it. I was negotiating,” he says, refusing to look my way.
I’m not a stranger to disappointing others, but his quiet resentment makes me long to crawl into a hole and disappear.