by Vi Lily
Maybe that's where the Loch Ness monster came from. I mean, maybe some selfish bee-atch like me talked some poor unsuspecting immortal to swim across Loch Ness to pick an apple or something and he didn't make it and now he's like the number one Scottish tourist attraction for the rest of all eternity.
I can't imagine losing Avisha like that. Especially not over something so selfish.
Man, I suck.
This guy saved my freaking life—and my precious baby sister's—then brought us to his home, a bona fide fortress for Pete's sake, and has given us run of the place. But, as if that's not enough to satisfy spoiled, selfish brat Gwen, now I want him to exhaust himself by flying God only knows how far to bring me a freaking snack.
I seriously hate myself right now.
I sigh and push myself off his lap. "Never mind," I tell him in a small voice, meaning it this time. I feel like the lowest of the low, an idiot and a douche and a jerk all at the same time.
"Lass," Avisha says as he grabs my hand before I can walk away, "what is…chock-oh-lawt?" he asks, sounding the word out carefully. Normally, I would have to fight back a grin at that, but I feel like total garbage at the moment.
"How is it made from this…cacao?"
I turn back and glance at him. I am seriously feeling bad for even asking at this point. "It's okay, seriously. It was stupid of me to even think of it. I'm gonna go see if Kate needs help in the kitchen."
I start toward the door then, still feeling like a piece of dog crap on the bottom of my shoe.
"Lass, come here."
Okay, I am going to admit that those words said in that way he just said it gives me a shiver right up my spine, which crawls over my scalp, circles around my eyes and then does something funny in my brain. It's like…I don't know how to describe it. It's like a command that I can't disobey.
I don't take being bossed around well at all; in fact, I normally would have either argued or given him the bird. But there was something in his voice that made me turn on my heel and walk back to him.
Involuntarily, I might add.
I'm going to be real here and admit that I've read my share of romance novels that no teenager should be reading. Some that most adults probably shouldn't read either. Maybe you know what I'm talking about—those books that you read when no one else is looking, that you get online so that you're not embarrassed to be seen with it at a store.
Problem with me is that I can't buy anything online. For one thing, I'm not online. Haven't been since I took off from DEE. Can't risk it—the footprint you leave whenever you log in to the World Wide Web is insane. Most people have no idea. "They" watch and listen…all the time. And Dr. Smythe uses that to his advantage.
Sometimes I wonder just how powerful he is, if he has access to the entire freaking world's internet.
Anyway, I'm forced to get my guilty reading pleasures the old school way, in a store with the embarrassing titles and covers on full display for the store clerk to raise an eyebrow at. So far, I've never been questioned about my age. It's most likely because I always have Carlie in tow and they probably just assume if I'm old enough to have a kid, then I'm old enough to read smut.
The point I'm trying to get to here is that when Avisha used that voice to stop me dead in my tracks, it reminded me of one of those books where this werewolf was not only the pack alpha, he was also a Dom in "real life."
You know, a Dominant—the guy who gets to tie the chick up and, well, boss her around. And she likes it.
Anyway, in this book, the werewolf would give the unsuspecting girl these commands in his "alpha voice" and she'd be helpless to argue against them.
That's how I'm feeling right now. And I'm not into being dominated. Reading about it, maybe. But real life? Nah.
My traitorous feet stop right in front of Avisha and I scowl at him. I want him to know I don't appreciate whatever weird mojo it was that he just used on me. I'm not some romance novel bimbette that can just be ordered around.
Okay, maybe I can since I just did exactly what he ordered me to do, but still…
He's kind, at least, when he speaks to me, the bossiness is gone as he grabs my hand again and runs a claw over my knuckles. He's sitting, I'm standing and yet I still have to look up to look him in the eyes.
"Lass, I want to ken what this chocolate is that ye spoke of. If it's somethin' ye want, then ye have to ken that I'll move Earth…and mayhaps even Heaven…to get it for ye."
Awwww…I'm not kidding. That's exactly what I thought: Awwww. I can forgive the big guy for using "the voice" on me if those were his motives.
I twist the hem of my shirt in my free hand. "Um, well, it's like a dessert. A candy. It's not a big deal, really," I rush to add, but my voice trails off when he scowls at me.
"I, um, well, I get really bad cravings for it when I'm, uhh…"
Ugh, this is freaking embarrassing, let me tell you. I can actually feel the heat coming off my face, it's that bad. No lie.
I sigh and tell myself to just get it out. "When it's time for my, um, monthly, the chocolate makes me feel better."
Seriously, I can swear that Avisha's leathery cheeks turned red at my last comment. Can gargoyles even blush? I kind of don't think so, especially considering he was a freaking angel before. What could he have to be embarrassed about?
Maybe his face is just reflecting the red coming off of mine.
"Anyway," I say, pushing through the embarrassment, "I get a little, uh, crazy without chocolate at that time."
I'm seriously fighting the urge to run at this point. Or throw up. Maybe both.
Avisha is not meeting my eyes. I don't blame him and I'm actually glad for it. The less he witnesses my embarrassment, the better.
He runs his hand—paw—down his long horse-shaped face then. "Well, then, I need to make sure you're supplied with what ye need, lass. We doonae want any, ehm, incidents, do we?" He smiles at me with that toothy grin he has, which does seriously make him kind of look like an alligator.
I laugh, more of a bark. "No, we don't. I was actually thinking you should lock me in the dungeon over the next week. You know, just to be on the safe side."
He chuckles. "That will never happen, lass," he says, then tugs my hand gently.
"Come here," he says softly. I oblige this time because I want to, not because I'm being compelled to.
He pulls me back onto his lap and wraps those tree trunk arms around me. "Tell me more about this 'chocolate'."
I do. I spend the next ten minutes extolling all the amazing virtues of chocolate bars, listing all my favorites. I then go on to describe the amazing way chocolate with caramel always melts in your mouth just right, and the way peanut butter and chocolate are the perfect combination, and the joys of hot chocolate drinks on cold nights. And last, I describe my all-time favorite, chocolate truffles. I can't get enough of those things with the hard chocolate outside and the soft, gooey center.
My mouth is watering by the time I'm done.
"The best, though, is dark chocolate," I tell him as I rub circles on his wrist…the darned thing is honestly larger than my thigh. This time, I'm not trying to coerce the guy into flying across an ocean to get me what I want; I'm just telling him what I like. What I love.
"Is that your favorite then?" Avisha asks as he runs his other paw over my hair. He's always touching my hair. It's kind of weird, but nice, too.
"Yeah. Dark chocolate truffles are the best thing in the world," I whisper to the one human being—and I'm ignoring the fact that that title is really questionable—who seems to truly care what I want, what I think, what I love. And he does care…I can feel the strongest emotions coming from him. He wants to know what I like, what will make me happy. He wants to please me more than anything at the moment.
It makes the soft romantic chick side of me hidden somewhere in this boy's body swoon. Yeah, I said swoon.
I can't help myself then. I seriously can't. Later, I'll make some excuse for my behavior, but at the mome
nt, I just feel. And what I'm feeling is…
I don't know what it is. Really, I don't. It's kind of always been that way. The empath can sense everyone else's feelings, but rarely can I pinpoint my own. But whatever I'm feeling, it's pretty amazing, I'll tell you that.
So I give in to those feelings and I lean forward to I kiss the "monster" who isn't a monster…he's a savior.
Chapter 8
A VISHA HAS been gone for a long time. Two days, actually. I would worry, but I keep telling myself that the guy—okay, okay, gargoyle—is immortal.
Once again, he left shortly after I kissed him. Either he's afraid of affection—which I know for a fact isn't true, judging by the way he's always touching me—or my kissing sucks, which I have no way of knowing is true or not. My only other experience with the meeting of the lips ended with a nut sack being kicked up into a windpipe.
I suppose there could be other options to explain why he's been gone so long, but my lack of self-confidence is leaning toward the sucky kissing probability.
It would help if I had some idea of where Avisha went, or when he'll be back. Even Kate doesn't know, and she said that it's weird for him to leave without word. She didn't say those exact words, but the meaning anyway.
One cool thing that has happened is that I can now understand Kate a lot better. It's like a lightbulb went on in my dim brain all of a sudden and I don't feel like I'm trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphics when I talk to her any more. She still doesn't understand me most of the time, though. I'm working on that, on using Old English words and not my American teen slang. Bad habit to break.
I "don't talk good."
We did discover that we both speak French and we tried communicating that way. No go. Apparently, there's such a thing as "old French" too. But at least we're doing a lot better on the English front.
I've spent a lot of time alone the past couple of days. Carlie has Domnall so tightly wound around her little finger now that he literally follows her around in case she might need something, so I don't feel like I have to keep her stuck at my side all the time. I want her to have relationships with other people, honestly. I just want her to be safe.
The relationship she's building with the old grouch is pretty funny to watch, but of course, I was worried at first about letting my little sister wander the fortress alone with a strange old man—and Domnall is very strange, like he hides in corners and I'm pretty sure he's collecting Kate's hair for some odd reason—but I watched him around Carlie and read his feelings and there is nothing but care and concern for her coming from him.
I'm wondering if that might be an ability that Carlie has. I haven't seen any special abilities that my little sister possesses, but she has only been around me, who adores her and will do anything for her. So, it is possible that she's got some manipulation ability or whatever, that makes others want to take care of her. Pretty cool if that's the case.
So now that Domnall follows Carlie around and watches out for her, I have some me-time. And honestly, I have no idea what to do with myself.
Kate's making her nasty soap and that's something I really don't want to learn how to do. Maeve, the fortress's healer, is off in the village delivering a baby.
The only other people in the fortress are Aonghus—the stable master who declared I'm a "bluidy Sassenach" and won't talk to me no matter how many times I've tried to tell him I'm not from the country down south. I've reminded him a bunch of times that he has no problems with Kate, who really is a Sassenach, but he just ignores me and chases me off.
Gavina, the one and only maid in the whole fortress, is always so busy she won't even stop to talk to me. I've tried to offer my help a few times, but she just waves me off. Not sure if she doesn't understand my Gaelic, or what.
After wandering all over the castle—fortress, whatever—I finally decide to go out into the gardens. At least then I can get some fresh air. Despite how drafty the fortress is, it's seriously musty. The place could use a couple of Stick-Ups.
I'm in the middle of the gardens when I realize that I somehow forgot it was late fall in the Highlands. Which means a biting wind that I swear feels like ice cubes hitting me in the face. I shiver and decide to make this a quick trip, since my jacket is up in my room.
I'm thankful that Avisha didn't insist that I dress like the other women in this time period, especially now that I'm outside in the cold. I can't imagine wearing a dress in this freaking cold wind. I'll stick to my jeans, thank you very much.
I see Gavina coming toward me then as she cuts through the garden with a basket of bread—yeah, the baker is way across the fortress grounds, go figure—and I realize that she doesn't look cold. A blast of wind hits just as she gets close to me. Her skirt blows up a little and that's when I see that she's wearing thick sock-looking things under her skirt. Like medieval tights.
I think about it then, having your legs encased in wool stockings, but having the heavy skirts to shield you from the wind. I'm thinking that might actually be warmer than wearing jeans—I can actually feel the wind biting through the denim. Mental note made to ask Kate for a dress and stockings. For Carlie, too. I've noticed her shivering a lot in the drafty fortress.
I'm about to head back inside to talk to Kate about a new wardrobe when I see movement outside of the walls. It's too far away to make out, but it's coming toward the fortress, so I stand rooted in place, waiting for it to get closer. And then my eyes widen when I realize what it is—an army is heading right toward us.
Wait, maybe it's not an army. It doesn't look organized enough for an army. It's more like a mob. A part of me—the really stupid part, I might add—wonders if it's a "friendly mob."
As if.
While I stand there contemplating the fact that what could potentially be an angry mob is coming toward us—and that the scene is seriously right out of the village girl/beast movie I love so much—I have the sudden realization that the fortress is completely unprotected. I mean, for Pete's sake, this is the Dark Ages…the time when attacking your neighbor just because you like their land better is accepted. Probably even encouraged. I bet it's even a job description. They probably stand around at cocktail parties, with their carved antler cups, sipping mead, going, "So, what do you do for a living, Arland?" "Me? Oh, I'm a pillager and plunderer."
So, one would think that every medieval fortress that had anything worth stealing would have some awesome security. Like sentries patrolling with sharp pointy sticks and swords. Dudes on the roof with bows and arrows. A couple of catapults loaded with boulders. Maybe a wizard conjuring up some freaky creatures to scare off the enemy.
But no…not Avisha's fortress. There isn't a single soldier to be found anywhere. I know Avisha is seriously short-staffed, but come on. We're sitting ducks here. Totally defenseless.
Maybe fortresses that are owned by gargoyles don't need such things though. I mean, he's a freaking mythical creature, so large that I have to tip my head wayyyyy back to look at him, with muscles so thick that no bodybuilder I've seen could compete. He's probably more than capable of defending his own fortress all by his lonesome.
If he were here.
And since he's not, I'm freaking. "Uh, uhh, uhhhhh," is all I can manage to get out of my mouth, but thankfully my feet know what to do. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm running for the front door.
Thank you, autopilot.
My only thought is getting Carlie to safety. The DEE-men are bad enough; now I have a whole mob to protect her from.
Adrenaline fuels me as I yank the ridiculously heavy door open like it's nothing and run inside the foyer.
"We're under attack!" I scream as I slide inside, turning to slam the door behind me. Thankfully, the door has a huge beam that can be set in metal brackets to keep it closed. And by "huge," I mean that it's the width of a good-sized tree. Hopefully, it'll be big enough to keep the crazies out.
I don't even think twice about it as I lift it and slide it through the iron brackets on each s
ide of the door.
I turn then and see Kate standing behind me, white as a ghost and staring at me with her mouth open. There's a bucket on the floor next to her, and soapy water is running all over the wood floor.
Good, I'm glad to see she's taking the situation seriously, even though her reaction isn't giving me any comfort. Apparently, a medieval mob attack is not a good thing. Well, yeah, duh. Like they're all coming for tea and biscuits. With torches and pitchforks. And axes. Pretty sure I saw a few spears too.
"Ye…yer…that…" Kate's stammering and pointing at the door. I stare at her with my fists on my hips, waiting for her to tell me what we need to do next to secure the fortress.
It takes a few seconds, then she finally comes to her senses. "That beam weighs nigh on four hundredweights!" she screeches.
Okayyyy…not exactly what I was expecting to hear. I thought it would be more along the lines of, "Good job, Gwen! Now let's go gather all the weapons from the secret stash!" or "Yay! All we have to do now is light a fire on the roof and send a smoke signal to alert the authorities we're under attack!" Wait, was it the Native Americans who used smoke signals?
It takes me a second to process that Kate's saying the beam I just picked up weighs like four hundred pounds. Huh. I shrug then, and figure that it was either an adrenaline rush that caused the super strength…or I've just gained another talent.
Cool.
It happens like that. One day you suddenly find you can hear people talking nearly a mile away, or you can see better than an eagle, or run as fast as a deer. No warning, just Bam! Next level power-up.
All of us norms got an extra ability when we turned fifteen. Mine had been the empath thing. Maybe we get another at eighteen. Who knows. I don't have access to my friends anymore to find out if they got something new.
I hope it is a new ability, because throwing an iron cauldron out the window onto the heads of the mob sounds like a great idea at the moment. Maybe with some boiling oil in it.