Her arms wrapped around his neck and she allowed the passion from him to enter her and melt inside her belly. The kissing grew more intense and Megan found herself wanting to reach for the string tying Rokkan’s pajama pants. Finally, she regained control over her facilities, shoving aside lust, who had been previously controlling all her movements.
She broke from the kiss and took a step back, out of Rokkan’s arms. “It’s getting late and I need sleep.”
“You can sleep here,” he said, pointing to the inviting, silk sheeted bed. “We don’t have to do anything, we can just sleep.”
The offer was almost too good to resist. Almost.
Megan shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I really have to go. I’ll, uh, see you around.” The words sounded incredibly lame as they fell off her tongue and Megan quickly excused herself, worried if she spent anymore time that close to Rokkan she might leap into his arms and beg him to take her.
That night, she dreamed of him. They were pawing at each other, pleasuring each other, and then they were simply laying together, talking late into the night. When she awoke, in real time, Megan closed her eyes and tried to push her subconscious back into the dreamworld, where there were no wolves about to attack and where she was free to be with the one she loved without reservation or fear.
* * *
Esma was the first to arrive at work the following morning. When Megan pushed open the swinging door, groggy and still wishing she was asleep, Esma was waiting, popping her gum and pacing in front of the stove. “Finally,” she said. “Where is everyone? Work starts in twenty minutes!”
“Exactly,” said Megan through a yawn. “There’s still plenty of time. Why are you here so early?”
“I’m just eager to get started.”
“If I didn’t know any better.” Megan smiled. “I would say you actually like this job.”
“So what if I do?” She blew a bubble with her gum and popped it with her teeth. “Maybe I think cooking is kind of fun, and challenging in a way my other work wasn’t. What do you care?” She moved as if to start something physical, but Megan knew that was just how Esma carried herself, always ready for a fight, but never actually following through on one.
“Hey I’m happy for you,” said Megan. “It’s good to have something you like doing.” She went over to the coffee maker in the corner and fired it up. “You want some coffee?”
“Yes! Thank god. I’ve been trying to get that thing to work for an hour.”
Megan looked at her wide eyed. “You’ve been here an hour already?”
Esma looked down at her feet and clicked her heels together. “Two actually. Couldn’t sleep. I was too excited about this new egg recipe Tint said he wants to try today. He said I could help as long as I stayed away from the burners... “ She laughed softly to herself and Megan joined her, remember the mishap from the day before from which Trint walked away with only one eyebrow. “Besides that, I think I’m getting pretty good at this. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a concubine after all.”
“Who told you you were?” The coffee machine growled as it ground the beans, then the hot liquid began to pour into the pot.
“Well, just about everyone. Prostitution is something you are born into in District Eleven. It was all I was ever to aspire to.” She was watching the coffee machine do its job, fascinated. “I never imagined I would be chosen as one of the prince’s girls though. That was a real honor.”
“And you never dreamed of doing anything else?” Megan pulled the pot out from under the machine and poured two cups. “Did your sisters?”
Esma shrugged. “Being a prostitute is a very respected occupation in District Eleven. We are treated very well and there’s a lot of money to be made.” She took a sip of the coffee and quickly put the mug down. Sucking air in through her teeth she made a hissing sound. “Ah. Hot.” She breathed through her mouth a few times then continued. “I never thought about doing anything else until I started working here. I don’t know about my sisters, but I will say Tara seemed really excited about her work on the farm when she came back to our room last night. Maybe she’s discovered a new path as well.”
“What about if the prince decides he wants you back,” said Megan, somewhat worried Esma would laugh and say he called for her services just the night before.
“I’m not sure what I’d do,” she said. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen. He hasn’t been calling on any of us and the last time I saw him, the night before you found me in his bed, we didn’t even do anything. We started to, and then he got all weird and pushed me away. Said he just wanted to talk instead.”
Megan’s face broke into a wide grin before she could stop herself.
“You love him don’t you?” Esma asked. She eyed Megan while bringing the mug back to her mouth and blowing.
“No,” said Megan, very matter of factly, having said it to herself so many times over the past few days. “I don’t love him.”
“He loves you,” said Esma. “He said your name in his sleep.”
“When?”
“Every night after your first day working here,” she said. “At least, every night I was with him.” She took a small, tentative sip. “If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Megan wasn’t sure how to respond, and thankfully she didn’t have to. The two girls were interrupted by the sound of the swinging door and Trint dragging himself through the kitchen in their direction.
He held out a hand, eyes half closed and said,” Coffee. Please.” Megan poured him a mug and handed it over. He nodded his thank you and leaned back against the counter.
“Are you ready to get started on that new recipe?” Esma asked in a loud, chipper tone.
Trint brought a finger to his lips and shushed her. “No talking. Not until I’ve had my coffee.”
* * *
The prince ordered a lot of food that day, and even more pots of coffee. Each order was to be delivered to the interrogation room, where it was said, from servers who returned from bringing the food, he was having meetings with different groups of his fighters. Megan never opted to take anything, partially because she had no interest in distracting him while he was strategizing, but also because she missed him terribly and that scared her.
On her lunch break, she told Amara she wanted to eat at one of the kitchen stations on the castle grounds and ran off before her friend could ask to join. Instead of going to a kitchen station, however, she snuck upstairs to their empty room.
She pulled a box from underneath her bed, and first looking around suspiciously, although the likelihood of someone following her into the bedroom was incredibly slim, she opened it. Lou’s bone knife lay exactly how Megan had put it away previously. She withdrew it from the box carefully, cradling it in her hands.
Megan wasn’t sure this was going to work –– she was drawing on an old legend Ollie heard from a kid at school one time about mages and their bone weapons. According to some, the weapon and mage are linked, magically, and if someone besides the mage happens to be in possession of the weapon, that person could use it to contact its maker.
How exactly she would use the knife to contact Lou, however, assuming the legend was true, Megan did not know. She wrapped her fingers around the white hilt, tight, and closed her eyes. “Well, here goes nothing.” She breathed in as deep as she could and then let all the air out of her lungs, keeping her mind singularly focused on the knife. “Lou, if you can hear me, I need to talk to you. I don’t know if this actually works, but I figured I would try.”
She sat back on her heels and opened her eyes, waiting for some sort of signal that Lou was listening. At first, nothing happened. Then, just as she was about to put the knife away and give up on reaching her friend, the weapon began to shake, every so slightly. Not wanting to drop it, Megan tightened her grip. The knife pulled itself, and her hand, down to the ground where the point went right into the plush, grey carpet.
“Lou?”
The knife jerked do
wnwards, creating a line in the carpet. Suddenly, her hand was lifted again, moved to right, and brought down again. The knife made two vertical lines next to each other and then connected them in the middle with a shorter horizontal one. Megan let the knife guide her hand and soon the message was complete: Here.
“Okay, uh, hi Lou.” Megan found her eyes were stinging with fresh tears. “I’ve missed you.” The knife vibrated a moment in her hand but did not bring her hand to write another message. “I know communicating with me is dangerous, so I’ll make this quick. I need to know when the wolves are going to make their move. If you have any information regarding when they will attack, please send me word, either through the knife or mail or… anything. We are trying our best to prepare, but all our preparations could be made moot if we are caught off guard.”
The knife pulled her hand again and wrote another word: Soon.
“How soon?” Megan asked. The knife made a curve and put a dot underneath, a question mark. Lou didn’t know. “Is there anything else you can tell me?” The knife moved again, this time it drew a heart. Megan stared down at the symbol and allowed her tears to flow freely. “I love you too. I’ll let you go now. Thanks for all your help.” The knife shook one final time, then was still.
Chapter Twelve
Lying in Wait
The rest of the week passed without any movement from the wolves nor any further word from Lou. Before she knew, Megan had reached her second day off and was faced with the prospect of how to spend it. Amara wanted to go into town and see her sister. Megan toyed with the idea of going with her and visiting her own family, but then remembered they were all scheduled to work most of the day anway. Maybe she’d meet up with them for dinner.
Not going into town meant she could lounge around the castle all day, something she hadn’t yet had the chance to do. She started in the dining room, then went exploring around the first floor and found a magnificent library she didn’t know existed. She killed nearly three hours there, eagerly sifting through the books and cultivating a stack taller than her that she would have to find a way to get back to her room. Lunchtime rolled around and she still had another whole level of the library to pick through, so she decided to skip the meal and ascended to the second floor.
She rounded the corner of the first floor-to-ceiling shelf she encountered and there found Rokkan sitting with his back against the far wall reading out of an impossibly thick, leather bound book.
“Funny meeting you here,” she said, smiling down at him.
“We have to stop running into each other like this,” he joked as he made his way to his feet.
Megan laughed and pointed to the text in his hand. “What’s that?”
“It’s a book on werewolves.” He handed it to her. She had to hold it in both her hands as she examined the cover. “Have to know your enemy if you want to beat him.”
“Smart.” She braced the weight of the book on her right forearm and opened to the first page to look at the copyright date. “This thing is over a hundred years old,” she said. “I didn’t even know werewolves had been around that long.”
“According to that book they were here before humans even,” said Rokkan. He shrugged. “Who knows if that’s true, the book was written by an old werewolf king who could easily have just been blowing smoke. It’s still interesting though. I’ve been reading about the details of their pack mentality, which plays a major role in how they fight.”
“Look at you.” Megan laughed. “You’re in full research mode. It’s almost like you’re
actually taking something seriously.” She hadn’t said it to hurt him, but it clearly had.
He looked down at the pile of books next to him and said, “Yeah, well, this is a serious situation I’ve gotten you all in.”
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” Megan added quickly. “I was just kidding…”
“No,” he said. “You weren’t. But it’s okay. There’s some truth to what you were implying. I’m not known for being very thoughtful, I know that. I can be immature and I often forget that there is a time and place for humor.” He looked up at her. “But I’m not stupid––”
“I know that.”
“And I’m not cruel. I don’t want anyone to get hurt as a result of something I’ve done.” He shook his head. “I’m not my dad.”
“I know that, too.” Megan put her hand on his arm and motioned for them both sit where he was previously. “Tell me about him,” she said, lowering herself to the ground. He sat next to her but didn’t say anything. “C’mon, you know you want to,” she teased. “He’s clearly on your mind.”
“He’s always on my mind,” said Rokkan. “Or, at least, he’s always in the back of my mind. These days it’s you who’s always on my mind.” Megan smiled and waited quietly for him to continue. “I tried to tell him about this wolf business and he reacted exactly as I assumed he would; with condescension and utter disbelief.”
“He really hasn’t heard anything about an uprising?”
“He has, he just doesn’t believe the threat is real. If you think my ego is big––”
“Which I do,” Megan said with a smirk.
Rokkan laughed. “Right, well, his is even bigger. He thinks him and his empire are untouchable. The worst part is when the wolves do attack, instead of realizing that I was right, he’ll find a way to just blame me for the whole thing. I know it.”
“Even if you win?”
“If I win?” Rokkan raised his eyebrows tauntingly.
“Sorry,” said Megan. “When you win.”
“Yes, even when I win,” said the prince. “My dad will probably see the whole ordeal as proof of me not being ready to run my own district, and maybe he’s right. I mean, what have I done since taking power of District One except reassign work position and put everyone in grave danger.”
“You mean besides making sure everyone is paid a decent wage, isn’t over worked, and has enough to eat?” Megan said sarcastically. “You’re right, you haven’t done anything worth while.”
“That was nothing,” said Rokkan. “Those are just the basic building blocks of having a thriving, successful community.”
“Building blocks that all our past leaders have completely ignored,” said Megan. “The other leaders weren’t interested in creating a thriving, successful community. They were interested in having power and abusing it. It sort of sounds like that’s all you dad is interested in as well.”
Rokkan rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. “He didn’t use to be like that. But he’s changed ever since my mother passed.”
“Oh.” Megan tried to resist the urge to ask about Rokkan’s mother, worrying that she had already pried too much into his personal life. “I’m sorry.”
“It was years ago,” he said. “I’ve since gotten over it, but he never did. He tried everything; he picked up new hobbies, remarried –– twice, but nothing could keep his mind off her for long. That is, until he first got the idea to start spreading the draak empire. After he took the first district for himself, he became obsessed with accruing more. More districts, more people, more power. Who knows if it will ever be enough for him.”
“I can’t imagine what it must be like having to answer to somebody like that,” said Megan. She reached out and touched his back. “All things considered though, after hearing about your screwed up home life, I’m surprised you’re not more obnoxious and unbearable.”
His somber expression cracked into a grin and he let out a big belly laugh, which echoed throughout the otherwise silent library. “I guess that’s something.” Megan reached up put the back of her hand on his cheek. “Thanks for listening. I don’t usually talk about this stuff. It’s too painful and I figure nobody wants to be bothered with any of it.”
“I’m glad you decided to talk to me,” she said. “I like learning about your past.”
“Next time you’ll have to tell me something about you,” he said.
“Sure.” Her eyes scanned
up at the top of his head. “Under one condition.”
“What?”’
“You let me touch your horn.”
Rokkan instinctively looked down at his lap. “I mean, you don’t have to ask––”
“No, you sicko!” said Megan, pointing to one of the two, curled horns at the top of his head. “That horn.”
“Oh.” He sounded noticeably disappointed, but he was still smiling. “Go ahead.”
She reached out and ran her fingers down the tip of the hard, coiled protrusion. The end was pointy and, she realized, deadly. “Can you feel that?” she asked him.
“A little,” he said.
“How often do you turn?” she said, bringing her hand down to meet the other in her lap. “Into your draak form I mean? Is that what you’d call it?”
“Dragon form,” he corrected her. “And only when I need to. It’s not exactly a pleasant experience.”
“It hurts?”
“Yes, and the dragon isn’t exactly something we draaks have much control over. Once we turn, the dragon sort of takes over, which is great when you’re in battle, but terrible in just about any other situation.”
“I’ve never seen a dragon before, not even a picture or drawing of one,” said Megan. “Can you describe what you look like when you turn?”
“I’d rather not,” he said. He looked up and upon seeing her confused, almost sad expression he added, “I just don’t want you to see that side of me. Not before you have to, anyway.”
Megan nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”
The were quiet for a while. “Hey,” said Rokkan after about a minute. “Isn’t it your day off?”
“It is.”
“Well what are you doing spending it alone in the library!” He stood up and stuck a hand out. “Shouldn’t you be doing something fun or visiting your family or something?” She took his hand and he pulled her up.
Lord Rokkan’s Private Toy Page 11
