by Megan Linski
“We should get off,” I said. Emma’s efforts to stroke around the pond had gotten considerably weaker in the last fifteen minutes or so.
“Get yourself off, then. I’m not horny,” she said between gasps. Her joke fell flat amongst my concern.
“Emma, that’s not what I meant. You look exhausted,” I said.
I thought I was going to have to drag her off the ice, but Emma obliged me and skated toward the edge of the pond. We sat on the log and took off our skates. The wind had picked up, and the snow was falling faster than before.
“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Emma asked tentatively as we unlaced our skates. I unfastened the blade on my prosthetic and reattached the foot in its place.
“Go ahead. I’m an open book,” I said.
Emma hesitated, before she asked, “When you lost your leg, was it hard to learn to skate again? Or did it come easy to you?”
I thought about it for a moment. No one had ever asked me that question before. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “There were so many things I had to relearn when I lost my leg. Walking. Running. Fighting. Even regaining my balance. It was hard stepping back out on the ice, at first. I didn’t think I’d ever play hockey again.”
I looked up at the sky. “But honestly, I think hockey helped me to learn how to walk again, instead of making it harder. Being on the ice has always made me feel so secure. Skating with my prosthetic was like learning a new skill— like shooting pucks, or running defense. I don’t remember learning to walk, but I remember my first time on the ice with a hockey stick. I was able to relate to it far easier.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
Emma was quiet for a moment. I wondered what was on her mind before a chilly wind swept by and caused her to shiver. What had turned into a heavy snowfall was now becoming a full-on snowstorm. Emma shielded her eyes from the torrent of snow as I got to my feet. I couldn’t even see the school through the thick snowfall that was enveloping the school gardens.
“There’s a cottage on campus that’s not too far from here. It’s closer than the main campus. We should go there and wait the storm out,” I said.
“Fine by me.” Emma put her skates and mine into my hockey bag, then flung it on her back. I transformed into a wolven.
“Hop on. We’ll get there faster,” I said.
Emma paused, and I added, “Unless you want to freeze.”
Slowly, she grabbed my scruff. I knelt down so she could hoist herself onto my back. She sat comfortably behind my shoulder blades. Emma rubbed her gloves hands up and down my fur, and I resisted quivering. That felt really good.
“Hold on tight, so you don’t fall off,” I said. I crouched down in the snow and bounded forward. Emma startled on my back, then I felt her hands dig into my fur as I started racing through the snow. She flattened herself onto my form, her legs clinging to my sides. I felt her body move with mine as I raced across the gardens.
I didn’t have to adjust my strides, or slow down, or worry she would fall. She sat upon my back easily and rode upon my form like she’d been meant to do it her entire life.
And it made me feel lonely. This was how Marked and Companions should be. Always together, as one. Yet Emma and I could never be.
The snow was getting in my eyes and making it hard to see. Thankfully, the outline of the cottage came into view. I skidded to a stop in front of the door, and Emma swung off my back. I changed into a human and opened up the door. Once we were inside, Emma let the skate bag fall to the floor, and I immediately worked on getting a fire going in the fireplace. It sprung to life. A warm glow overtook the entire room. The cottage was small, no more than a kitchenette, a couch, a few armchairs and a double bed, but it was cozy— and far better than getting caught out in the cold.
“What’s this cottage even here for?” Emma asked.
“The groundskeeper used to live here, but he died a few years back. The new one lives in Dolinska, so this place has been sitting empty for awhile. The school keeps the electricity and water running to it, in case one of the staff needs a place to stay,” I explained.
I walked across the room and reached inside the refrigerator to pull out champagne and seafood. I grabbed a couple of boxes of pasta from the cupboards. “Surprise. I’m making you dinner. Scallop puttanesca.”
She gave me a sly grin. “Ethan Nowak, you planned to bring me here.”
“Maybe I did. Is that a crime?” I asked.
“I bet that snowstorm outside isn’t even real. It’s probably an illusion.” Emma crossed her arms.
“Actually, it’s not. I couldn’t conjure up something like that, anyway. Just a well-timed act of fate.” I smiled at her.
I filled up a pot with water to boil and worked on preparing the scallops. I got two glasses down from the cupboard and popped the champagne, pouring a glass. I handed one to her. She took it and looked around. “So… how many people come to fuck in this cottage?”
I chuckled. “About as many as you’d expect. It is an empty cottage on a college campus, after all.”
“Uh-huh. And how many girls have you brought in here?”
“None,” I said honestly. “I haven’t screwed around with anyone.”
She came into the kitchen as I mixed olive oil and lemon juice together. “Seriously? I thought you’d have been with hundreds of girls by now.”
I shook my head. “Arcanea are supposed to save themselves for their mates. But not everyone does. I wasn’t very interested in girls growing up, I suppose.” I began chopping cherry tomatoes and black olives in half.
“What about you and Chastity?” Emma challenged.
I put the knife down in thought. “Chastity was a formality.”
“That sounds romantic.” Emma snorted.
“You don’t understand. Growing up, people expected me to be with someone. I was a prince. I was expected to find a mate so I could succeed the throne when the time came. Then years passed, and I never did.” I shrugged as I cooked. “Chastity was who my mother wanted. She was an easy choice.”
“But you never loved her.”
“I cared about her. But I never felt anything for her.” I put the scallops on to simmer. “I was guilty about it forever, because I knew she was in love with me. But I knew I could never give her what she really wanted. She was the one who broke it off with me. She got tired of waiting, I think.”
“Well, being in a relationship with someone who doesn’t love you back can’t be easy,” she said.
“It’s better to be single than to be with the wrong person. Arcanea know that,” I said.
As the water boiled, I added the pasta. Emma was being quiet. She stared into the fireplace. I could see her mind was working overtime. I longed to know what was going through her head.
“What about you?” I asked. “Was there anyone you liked growing up?”
She shook her head. “No. Like you, I had no interest. Skating was everything to me. I knew I needed to focus on that and have my career come first.”
She scoffed. “Not like anyone wanted me, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” I leaned against the counter. Emma’s eyes roamed up and down my body. Was she checking me out?
“I never really fit in, at school or anywhere else. I was too abrasive,” she admitted. “People thought I was weird, so I kept to myself. And I liked it that way. Mostly. It was hard when I was a kid, being without friends, but by the time I got to high school I stopped caring. It was easier to be alone than it was to try and friends. People were scared of me.”
“But you can’t tell me no guys were interested in you. You’re too pretty,” I objected.
She gave a small smile. “Thanks. If they were, I never knew it. Guys are intimidated by women who speak their mind, and, well… you know I can’t keep my mouth shut.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I know all too well. So you didn’t do anything social growing up?”
She shook her head. “No. I never went to prom, or any of th
at. I was too busy on the ice. Skating was my life.”
“That’s a shame.” I stirred the pasta. “I never had problems making friends, but that didn’t have anything to do with me. People wanted to suck up to me because my dad was king. I don’t think too many actually cared about me as a person. Everyone was always worried about offending me. It got old fast.”
“Stefan doesn’t seem to mind telling you off,” Emma said.
“He doesn’t. That’s why we’re still friends,” I said. “I got rid of everyone who I thought was just trying to use me to get what they wanted. That ended up being a lot of people, in the end.”
A few minutes later, the pasta was done. I combined all the ingredients, and Emma and I sat down to eat.
“Oh my God. This is like, amazing.” Emma let out a moan as she popped another scallop into her mouth. “You’re such an amazing cook.”
“You look like you’re going to have an orgasm.” I laughed.
“This is way better than an orgasm.” She took another bite and asked, “How did you learn to make such awesome food?”
“I have many talents.” I was barely eating, myself. I was too nervous. I didn’t get why. We were just two friends having a meal together and talking. It wasn’t a big deal. It was like hanging out with Stefan.
Except when I was hanging out with Stefan, my mind didn’t constantly assault me with inappropriate images of screwing him on the table. Gods help me.
Emma was done with her drink. “More champagne?” I asked.
She eyed the bottle, then shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t need any more.”
That was weird. It was clear she wanted some. Did she think I had dastardly intentions with her? Had I put off that bad of an impression? I was trying to be a proper gentleman.
“As you wish, madame.” I poured another glass for myself. Maybe drinking the entire bottle could calm my nerves. I should’ve brought more champagne.
She giggled. “There you go, talking fancy again.”
“It’s a bad habit. I was raised to have proper manners and etiquette at all times. Part of being a prince,” I told her. “Except it didn’t come in handy with speaking to people my own age instead of with diplomats at dinner parties. I had to learn how to act like… how you say… a commoner.”
“None of that here. I’m an American,” Emma proclaimed proudly. “We don’t believe in any of that class-system bullshit. You are what you make yourself to be.”
“It’s honorable. I always admired the attitude Americans have toward bettering themselves.”
I sighed. “Here in Malovia, that’s not possible. A person can’t rise higher than their designated station. Whatever you’re born as, you remain for life. Even if you become a king, if your mother was a maid, you’ll always be known as the son of a peasant and not as a true monarch.”
“That’s horrible.” Emma’s brows knitted together.
“It’s the way things are. People have a very strange way of looking at things around here.” I played with my fork. “I was lucky to be born with royal blood. It opened up more privileges for me that other people don’t have. Even in today’s modern area, mating outside your class is considered scandalous. Commoners must stick with commoners, and high-class with others of their station.”
Emma scowled at her empty plate. “I bet I’m considered the lowest of the low.”
“You’re an outsider. You don’t have a designated class, which is good for you, because you can rise to be anything.” I frowned apologetically before I added, “Although many people will still consider you an outsider forever. No matter what you accomplish.”
She scoffed. “Like that bothers me. I’ve been a misfit all my life.”
“Because you’re a rarity.” I reached across the table and took her hand. “Not many people can aspire to be like you. And people are jealous of what they cannot become.”
I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb for a moment before I stood up. “Well, these dishes aren’t going to clean themselves.”
“I’ll wash, you dry?” Emma suggested. I smiled and nodded.
As I began putting away plates, Emma snorted. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
“It’s weird. A prince doing dishes,” she said.
“I can do dishes,” I said indignantly. “Along with a host of other things.”
“I would figure you’d think yourself above menial chores,” Emma teased.
“Of course not. What a silly notion.” I reached into the fridge. “Hot chocolate and cheesecake for dessert?”
“Oooh. Of course, yes.”
We sat on the couch in front of the fire and shared a blanket that draped over our shoulders. The storm sieged outside, and our empty dessert plates and mugs sat abandoned on the coffee table. Emma had her legs curled under her and was leaning against my chest. I had my arm around her as we watched the logs crackle beneath the flames.
My mind screamed at me. What was I doing? I was cuddling with Emma. I wasn’t even sure how it had happened. We’d just finished eating, sat back and… bam. We didn’t even think about it. I hadn’t noticed we were pressed against each other until it’d actually happened, and by then, I didn’t want to pull apart.
Damn mating instincts. They naturally drew us to each other without us having to consider it. I needed to remedy this, and soon.
“What do you want to do when you become king?” Emma asked. Her voice broke the silence. She looked up at me, her chin sitting on my shoulder.
I shifted. “Abolish the class system. Make things fairer for the people in Malovia. A lot of things are regulated here by big business. Names and titles. Money and power. I don’t it to be that way any more. People should be free to break out of whatever constraints society has put on them.”
“That’s honorable.”
“I suppose.” My voice trembled as I said, “I just want to live up to what my father did. He was a great king.”
“I’ve heard your dad was an awesome king, but I have a feeling that you’re going to be even greater.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “I know you’ll win the Contest.”
“I need a mate first. Can’t compete without one.”
“You’ll find one in time. You’ll be a good king.”
“There are other competitors. It’s far from a sure thing,” I said.
“None of them can compare to you. They aren’t worthy,” Emma objected. “If anyone deserves that crown, it’s you.”
I dared to say, “You’d be a good queen.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” The mood had grown melancholy. Emma stared at the flames with a certain type of vacancy in her that I couldn’t express, but that I wanted to fill.
“Why not?” I asked.
She took a deep breath. “I haven’t told anyone at school about this. But… I’m sick.”
It wasn’t something I didn’t know. But I pretended. “How sick?”
“Sick enough.” Her eyes were void of emotion as she said, “It’s called Common Variable Immune Deficiency Disorder. It’s a rare genetic disease. There is no cure. My immune system basically doesn’t work. My system doesn’t make enough antibodies to fight against infections. When your immune system shuts down, the rest of your body doesn’t work, either. A simple cold or flu could kill me— that’s why I have that plasma in my fridge. I have to infuse it every week in order to stay alive.”
My whole body went numb. It was hard to process this information— that my mate could be in so much pain. “You haven’t seemed sick often this semester, at least.”
“I’ve been lucky. And I’ve been hiding it. I’ve caught something pretty much every other weekend. Turns out college campuses are a great place to exchange germs,” she said in defeat.
That explained why she’d been hiding out in her dorm so much. She was isolating herself to prevent herself from getting sicker. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“What can you do, Ethan? There’s nothing I can do.” Her eyes were glisten
ing as she turned toward me. “This is forever. It’s never going away, and it’s only going to get worse the older I get. I have to learn to deal with it.”
She quickly wiped away a few tears. “That’s why I wouldn’t be a good queen. I don’t even think I’d be a good mate. Who could want me, broken like this?”
I took her face in my hands gently and said, “Any Companion in their right mind would be honored to have you as their mate.”
The way she looked at me in that moment— it was like time itself stilled and we were the only two people alive.
We moved forward instinctively, like moths drawn to a flame. Her lips were only inches from me now, and gods, they were intoxicating. I longed to move my mouth over hers and make her mine.
Having a mate was dangerous. They’d take your whole heart, and you were powerless to do anything in return. You’d do anything for them just to gain their favor. I was a dog worshipping at Emma’s feet right now, and that’s how I wanted it.
I was moments away from connecting with her lips. This was it. I was really going to do it. I was going to break through the useless things that separated us, and unite us as mates.
Our perfect moment was shattered when the window broke. Both of us jumped, and I grabbed Emma to pull her away from whatever threat had arrived. I pushed her behind me as I got up from the couch and went to observe the broken glass.
It was nothing. Just the storm. The wind had smashed a tree branch outside against the window and shattered it to pieces.
I turned around and looked at Emma. She was giving me a sheepish look, cheeks pink with embarrassment. It was clear that we’d gathered our senses and there was no going back to the moment we’d just shared. It was hot in here, and it wasn’t from the fireplace.
“We should get back,” I suggested. “It doesn’t look like it’s safe here.”
She nodded without another response, and picked up the empty mugs and saucers to put them in the sink. I killed the flames and left the ashes to smolder as we left the tiny cabin— the place where everything had changed, and there was no going back.
