by Meg Xuemei X
“Don’t be so sure, wolf girl. You aren’t the only one who’s got pure instinct. I would know it if she were the witch.”
Then this big idiot should know I was the witch, but he had no idea. No idea at all.
I gibed at him. “Enlighten me?”
“I didn’t feel anything for that woman.”
“It’s not for you to feel, Ares. It’s for you to trust and accept my judgment.”
“Who do you think I am?” he asked. “You think I’ll let you trick me so easily? You think I’ll accept a fraud?” But he contained his fury, considering the ordeal I’d just gone through.
I frowned at him. “I didn’t expect you to be picky.”
He scoffed. “When I meet my witch, I’ll be on fire,” he said, then glanced down at me. I kept my expression demure, and his look turned forlorn on top of his predatory hunger for me. “Maybe it won’t be like the kind of fire I have with you, but I should at least feel something, something strong.”
My heart leapt. He’d just unwittingly admitted his feelings for me.
“But you did feel strongly for Agatha,” I said. “Is her name Agatha? You just aren’t good at admitting your feelings.”
“If she were my witch and I had feelings for her, she’d be in my arms right now.”
And here I was—in his arms.
Ventus was particularly quiet as he focused on eavesdropping on our conversation.
Shouldn’t you pay attention to flying, Ventus? I reminded him.
“I knew you lied to me the moment I let go of your shoulders outside the dressing room,” Ares said.
“If you’d known I was lying, you wouldn’t have stared at her as if she was the wonder of the wonders,” I said, unable to let go of the last image I’d seen before I’d left them to their devices.
He narrowed his amber eyes on me. “When did I do that?”
“I saw you two drink in the horny sight of each other before I left the store. You were into her, even though she wasn’t your witch. You’re just so good at lying to yourself. Anyway, I don’t even care. I’m only shocked that you lost her.”
“You do care, and you’re still jealous.”
“If I were jealous, Ares Darken, I’d have taken her down the moment she laid her claws on you.” I’d almost done just that. “But I let you have her, didn’t I? I even encouraged you.”
His dark anger returned, his voice promising a punishment after my recovery. “So you admit you intentionally misled me?”
“I was trying to help,” I said innocently.
“You’ve tried to screw me over at every turn ever since I took you in!”
“That’s not true. You tend to think the worst of me.”
“Tell me one good thing you’ve ever done.”
“I told you about your half-brother wanting you dead,” I said, putting down a finger for my first good deed. “You haven’t thanked me for the priceless information, and I didn’t even charge you a penny for the valuable intel.” I put down a second finger. “Third, I prevented you from foolishly nose-diving into the safe house to be toasted by an army of skilled bounty hunters.” Four fingers went down. “I’ve been cooperating with the guardians. I led you to the rabbit stews in Merlin’s house. I provided entertainment for you on the road. And before I came with you, I ordered my wolves not to tear your throat out. That wasn’t easy.”
He stared at me incredulously.
“The list can go on, but I only have ten fingers and ten toes,” I said. “Even now I’m still doing a good deed, leading you south toward your coveted witch. And Your Highness, instead, exposed me and led me to danger. How fair is it?”
“Twisted lies,” he said. “When you lie, you carry this calm air to try to convince people. You face becomes blank and you make firm eye contact.”
I made a mental note to correct my tell the next time I lied. Now I needed to further distract him from asking me the questions I dreaded.
“So what happened to your pretty, refined, and sophisticated noble lady?” I asked.
When Ares had had his first hard-on for me, he’d been displeased. He’d told me straight in my face, “You aren’t even my type. I prefer refined, sophisticated females.”
The prince gave me a sour look, his thumb and finger holding my chin. “Will you turn everything I said against me?”
Even that challenging touch brought me electrifying pleasure. I held my breath and arched an eyebrow, signaling I was waiting for an answer.
“I didn’t stay with Agatha long,” he said. “When I returned to the second floor and you were gone, I lost my mind.” He swallowed. “I panicked. All I wanted was to find you. Nothing else mattered.”
His vulnerability made something flutter in my chest.
“Not even the witch?” I asked.
He snarled. “She isn’t the witch. We’ve established that.”
I sighed at his temper.
“I forgot about her and everything,” he said. “I didn’t even bother to say a word to her when I ran out of the shop to track you. I remembered Merlin said you were being hunted and I had the worst feeling. I summoned Einarr and the guardians. When I found you in that damned alley and saw that fucker swinging his sword at you—” He stopped, unable to continue. But a second later, he was the hard Dragonian prince again. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Freyja. Stop running! You’ll have your freedom when the time comes, but not sooner, and not at the risk of your life. I’ll make a good arrangement for you and you’ll have a comfortable, safe life when this is over. While we’re searching the true witch, I’ll protect you.”
He still coveted his witch more than anyone and anything. So, it was true that a Dragonian never strayed from a set path, and Prince Darken would never abandon his ambition.
His lust for me was just lust. It was nothing compared to what he thought the First Witch would offer him. He would continue to risk me for her. The warmth I had felt when he’d told me how he had come for me vanished.
My face grew cold, and it wasn’t because of the icy current.
“I’ve never been as afraid as I was when I saw the Angels—” Ares said.
“Angels are fearsome species,” I said flatly, interrupting him.
“I do not fear them,” he said, his voice cold with rage. “I was nearly paralyzed today because I thought I’d been too late. I thought I lost you.”
“If I perish,” I said, “you should return to the Oracle and ask for a refund.”
His arm tightened around me. “Don’t say that,” he said gruffly. “You won’t be harmed under my watch. But I’ll have to think of something to prevent you from running away again.”
“If you think you can chain me,” I said, my voice harder than ice, “you’ll be making the biggest mistake in your life.”
“I’ll never chain you,” he said, “but I can’t allow you to be so ruthless and put yourself in danger.”
I let cold silence stretch between us.
He shook his head. “Why are we quarreling? I just got you back.” He tugged me against his hard chest and buried his face on my hair. “I just got you back,” he murmured, inhaling my scent.
I started crying.
I shouldn’t cry. I’d survived the Angel attack. I had Ares back, even if it was temporary. The Angel’s threat was terrifying, but that wouldn’t make me sob.
I blamed it on Ares’ chest being so warm and cozy.
“Hush,” he said, squeezing me, his large hand patting my head.
That only made me sniff harder.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Until he found his witch.
He scooped me onto his lap and pulled my face a few inches away from his chest so he could wipe my tears away with his thumb, but they just kept streaming down, faster than he could dry them.
He rocked me in his arms and murmured unintelligible words that sounded like lullaby. He’d never been so tender with me, and so I quickly found something I could
complain about.
“You were respectful and gentle to the noblewoman,” I said, my voice breaking. “You’ve never been sweet with me. You always yell at me.”
“Not always,” he said. “I can be tender and caring to you, but you drive me mad most of the time, and the rest of the time I can’t think straight around you, especially when you—” he sighed, then chuckled. “All of this sniveling is because I was nice to another female? I don’t get you, Freyja. I didn’t even flirt with her. But if you’re sour about it, you have only yourself to blame. You set me up with her. Speaking of which, there’ll be consequences . . .”
I didn’t hear the rest of his threats or comforts as I fell asleep on his solid, warm chest with hot tears on my face.
CHAPTER 4
The Mountains
The guardians alighted under a ridge of snowy mountains. They could go no further since Ignis and Glacies were injured. Their wounds hadn’t sealed. The serum Einarr carried didn’t really help genetically-enhanced beasts that much. Like me, they had to recover through the natural healing process. So Ares decided we would stay in the mountains for a few nights until the guardians regained their strength.
The Dragonians set up the tents. I didn’t like any of them, but they were efficient when it came to things like that.
To my delight, a camp fire was lit in no time. Jericko, the Dragonian with the bluest skin, was boiling water. I would remind them to go hunting if they hadn’t moved in the next hour.
I didn’t like to go hungry before bedtime.
While I took in the surroundings with my hands on my hips, surveying everything, Ares strode toward me. My pulse spiked. Electric currents charged the air. It happened whenever he entered my proximity for the first time, and my body always reacted with giddy lust.
“Freyja,” he ordered, “I need to treat your wound. Sit on the rock over there.”
“It’s only a scrape,” I said, not intending to move.
“Even if it’s a scratch, the surrounding area might have been infected. Any wound—even tiny—from an angelblade isn’t a light matter. We have to cut out the bad flesh. There’s no other way around. Einarr will give you a pain killer. It’ll be a minor surgery, and I’ll hold your hand the whole time. It’ll be fast.”
“I don’t need surgery,” I said.
“Freyja!” Ares raised his voice. “This isn’t time for stubbornness. The infection could kill you! Must I hold you down?”
The Dragonians stopped their tasks and looked in our direction. The guardians snapped their heads and peered at me. Ignis and Glacies hunched close to the mountains, and Ventus guarded their brethren. Mettalum had gone on patrol with Lucas.
Einarr gathered the medic kits.
I sighed. Ares wouldn’t let it go unless he saw it. I tore the bandage from my supposed wound.
“Freyja, let Einarr handle it,” Ares said.
The small cut from the angelblade had closed up. There wasn’t even a scar on my skin, except for a trace of dried blood below my shoulder blade.
“See, I’m as good as new,” I said.
Ares leaned closer to check my skin.
Einarr was at our side the next second, his eyes widening. “No mortal can heal from a wound inflicted by an angelblade,” he said, handing Ares a medical wipe, and the prince cleaned the dried blood from my shoulder.
“Don’t look at me like I’m not an earthling mortal,” I said, going on the offense. “Do you need to see my birth certificate?” As if I had one.
“This is impossible,” Ares said.
“Nothing is impossible, Prince,” I said. “Before your time, no one believed a hybrid like you was a possible.”
“How did you heal?” Ares asked.
“Shouldn’t you be happy I can regenerate quickly, like you?” I said. “Less trouble for you on the road.”
I wouldn’t volunteer the information that only an angelblade could bleed me.
“Of course, I’m happy you’re recovered,” Ares said, looking at the dirty wipe and tossing it away. “We’ll get your blood sample when we get to Atlantis.”
Over my dead body.
Ares must have seen something savage flash through my eyes, because he tensed immediate.
“What is it, Freyja?” he demanded.
Treat me like a lab animal and you’ll regret your life. I vow it on my mother’s grave.
“Merlin gave me this ability to heal myself,” I lied, then remembered what Ares had said about my tell. So, instead of looking straight at him, I dropped my gaze, hoping I looked demure. “That was his parting gift to me.”
Ares just studied me, as did Einarr.
I controlled the urge to draw a circle with the tip of my foot, which would for sure tell them how nervous I was. I counted to four before I brought my gaze back to Ares’ face.
He didn’t seem convinced at all, but he didn’t discredit me either. Maybe he took pity on me and decided to cut me some slack. I’d been weeping in his arms an hour ago. Perhaps he was out of sorts from my tears? If that was the case, I should cry more often.
“The druid said you were being hunted,” Ares said, his voice filled with purpose, “but I didn’t expect them to be Angels. Why do they hunt you?”
“Fuck if I know. They’re psychotic,” I said, my eyes brightening in a mock realization. “Perhaps it’s the same reason you hunted me? They must want me to lead them to the First Witch.”
“Like hell I’ll let them near my witch,” Ares growled.
My words worked to distract him, yet his truth hammered into my heart—his witch was far more important than I was.
“I don’t think anyone knows about her existence, except for the druid, the Oracle, and us,” Einarr said.
“Angels are resourceful,” I said. “If we know about her, then they have to know. She has great power since she’s the First Witch. Perhaps a high-ranking Archangel wants her as his mate, as King Agro once took the Fey Empress to be his bride.”
Ares narrowed his eyes, his face hardening as he stared at me. He hadn’t met the mysterious witch, but he was already so protective and possessive of her. A sudden resentment and jealousy toward both the prince and the witch expanded in me.
“You said you killed an Archangel before?” Ares drawled. “Is that the Angel with the patch on his left eye?”
The interrogation had started. I’d have to let him get it over with. Sooner or later, he would chase me with all the questions, and best to do it now.
“I didn’t expect him to survive,” I said. “I should have thrown the dagger harder. I should have ensured he was dead.”
“You threw a dagger at me the moment you saw me, without taking a second to ask me a question,” Ares said in disapproval.
“I thought we’d decided to put that behind us,” I said.
He nodded. “I was fast enough to block it. The Angel we fought today is just as fast as I am. I wonder how you managed to land your dagger in his eye.”
The Dragonian prince was sly. He had set up a trap for me before I knew.
“He was busy molesting me,” I said, “so he was a bit distracted.” The lie would throw Ares off the balance. I didn’t mind playing on his emotions as he’d intended to fence me in.
A crimson ring formed in his amber eyes, and rage brew in it. “How old were you then?” he asked.
“Twelve.”
“That motherfucker molested you when you were only a child?” he asked, the crimson ring deepening and spreading in his eyes.
“Angels are monsters,” I said. “Everyone knows that.”
“Did you encounter only one Angel at that time?” Einarr asked. Ares was too angry to go on with the next question. Wasn’t the advanced human a good sidekick?
Two against one, but one could play a better game.
“I didn’t see any others,” I said, expecting Einarr to counter me.
“Angels usually hunt in a group of three,” said the sidekick.
I frowned. “Do they?”
“According to that bad-eyed Angel, they’ve been hunting for you in particular,” Ares said.
“What’s your theory?” I asked, restraining myself from sneering. I still needed to play nice to throw him off my back.
“Why did the Angel call you Princess?” Ares asked, peering into my eye to catch a flicker.
I laughed hoarsely. “You think I’m a princess?”
“No one knows who your parents are,” he said.
“They both perished after the Angel War,” I said. “I was an orphan. I raised myself in the forest, the one you invaded.”
“The Angel wouldn’t call you Princess for no good reason,” Ares insisted.
“Do I look like a princess to you, Your Highness?” I asked. “Would a princess grow up with wolves?” I let humiliation and rage show in my eyes. “That psycho Angel was mocking me.”
“There was no mocking in his tone,” he said.
“Angels like to call every earthling girl Princess for fun,” I said, “especially the ones they tortured and marked to kill.”
“I’ve dealt with Angels for decades, and I’ve never heard of them calling anyone Princess except you,” Ares said. “You said they wanted the First Witch, but he mentioned nothing about her. Who are you really, Freyja, that the whole Angel army will come across the universe for you?”
I wanted to say the Angels had mistaken me for someone else, but that ship had long since sailed. Ares would only think I was hiding something darker.
“So I’m a princess,” I snorted. “Enlighten me then, which king and queen are my parents?”
“You tell me,” he said.
I threw my hands up, black rage surging in me. “Why are you interrogating me? Why don’t you go after the Angels instead of coming after me? Am I such a threat?”
At my outburst, a trace of dark fire crawled up my neck, hissing like a snake.
I darted a panicked, angry look between Ares and Einarr, but none of them seemed to see the fire. Merlin had seen it. I should learn to conjure the fire and turn it into a weapon against the Angels when they came for me again.
At the notion, the dark fire receded. It couldn’t be a weapon.
Shame mixing with the need to protect me flashed through Ares’ eyes. He turned to Einarr. “Go see to the wounded guardians.”
