by Ivy Asher
I call on my wings, ready to fly the fuck out of here and find the Ouphe myself. But my feathers brush against bark and pine needles, and I’m reminded that there’s not enough room to fly off thanks to the fucking tree. These dicks don’t appreciate shit.
“It was a good tree, Pidge; they weren’t worthy of it,” I try to reassure her, but she stays quiet.
I turn instead and start climbing the tree to get out. At least the wings will cover my ass as I do.
I high five myself for owning this whole find the bright side attitude. Fuck knows I’m going to need it traveling with this group of uncouth numpties. I make my way out of the cave more winded and sweatier than I probably should be from climbing that damn tree. Good thing we’ll be walking for a good portion of this craptastic adventure we’re about to embark on, because I clearly can use the cardio—and a shower. I smell a level of ripe that no one should have to endure for too long.
This should be fun.
7
“I hate this place,” I mutter as I stare at the pile of grot fruit in front of me. “Why can’t we hunt?” I ask again for the sixth time since Ryn dumped dinner in front of me on my blanket.
“We can’t build a fire out here. It’s too dangerous,” Ryn answers.
“We haven’t been making good time, and we’re still too close to possible patrols to risk it,” Zeph adds, giving me a look that says my slowness is to blame.
I stare at the pile of vile fruit and try not to groan. “And why can’t Pigeon hunt? She likes raw meat,” I ask again.
Zeph huffs, and Treno pulls his blanket tighter around him, which has been his tell of annoyance the past three days.
“Pidge—your gryphon—needs a lot more food to sustain her in her form. She’d have to find a whole herd of something to hunt, and that would also possibly draw attention. We can’t risk it. Just eat the berries. They’re the best option we have, and they’re not that bad,” Ryn reassures me, popping a berry into his mouth and chewing it, like that proves it’s edible.
All it proves is that he possesses fucked up taste buds. These berries are the worst. We’ve been eating them for days, because—lucky us—they grow all over the place in the forest. They are some kind of superfood apparently, as it doesn’t take many of them to fill you up, they’re packed with a bunch of nutrients, and they help with healing, but they taste like vomit, and I just can’t put myself through eating them again.
Pigeon won’t even touch them, and that’s saying a lot, because she makes questionable choices and clearly has messed up taste. Which is only further proven by the collection of grumpy jerks currently sitting around us that she likes to call mates.
I thought I had figured out a way to solve the grot fruit problem last night. I figured I could simply swallow them whole and avoid the nasty innards that taste like putrid betrayal. But just when I thought I had outsmarted the evil little berries, I started to digest them.
I then spent the night burping up the rancid taste of their juice. It was a lose-lose situation for all, especially when the gas kicked in. I was banished to walk downwind all morning, and let’s just say I no longer judge animals who fear their own farts.
So lesson learned: apparently, chewing the nasty little fuckers makes them a hell of a lot easier to digest, but then you have to suffer with actually tasting them. Either way, I’m fucked, and I hate this place. Maybe some granola, vagina-steaming, health nut might be able to choke them down for the benefits alone, but Gwyneth Paltrow I am not.
I can’t do it. I lie back on my blanket and try to ignore my empty stomach. Maybe tomorrow night when I’m really starving, I can force myself, but tonight it just doesn’t feel worth it. I stare up at the stunning starlit night and once again search for any constellations that exist in the sky I know back home, but I can’t make familiar shapes out of any of these stars. Guess I’ll just have to create my own.
“You should eat, Falon, tomorrow will be another long day,” Ryn tells me, like it’s breaking news.
Every day will be a long day until we find the Ouphe, and that’s if we can find them. I outlined what I could remember of the map the other day for them, and they all kind of looked at me like there was no way I had that right. Something about uninhabitable badlands or whatever, but it’s definitely where I was told to go. Zeph’s now convinced that we’re being led to our deaths for sure, but he was outvoted, and alas here we are, still slowly making our way closer to who the hell knows what.
Either way, Pigeon and I already decided that she is going to walk tomorrow so I can have a break. I’m pretty sure that makes the grot berries officially her problem now.
Treno stands up and gives us his back while he arranges his blanket. He’s off to the side like he’s trying to pretend that he’s not with us. It gets cold at night, but it seems everyone is too pissed and stubborn to huddle together like good sense would encourage.
I watch his back as he flings the blanket out and lays it gently on some bracken. I study the matching black symbols marked high on each of his shoulder blades. I trace the skinny rhombus and the small pearl-like circles that surround the thin diamond. Each mark is identical, and I can feel my shoulder blades itching from where I know the same marks now reside on me.
I want to ask what they are, but now is not the time. Not when he’s still set on hating me.
I think back to the marks I know I used to have on my own body. If I still had them, would Treno have gotten them too after our mating, like I did his?
A rumble of irritation bubbles up in my chest. It seems Pigeon isn’t a huge fan of my line of thought right now. She hasn’t been too keen on thinking about her mates at all lately. I try not to feel boastful about the fact that things aren’t turning out the way Pigeon wanted. I did try to warn her about crushing on assholes.
Pigeon flashes me the memories of me screaming Zeph’s, Ryn’s, and Treno’s names, lost in the ecstasy of incredible orgasms, while they pumped away between my thighs. I roll my eyes and try to dismiss the heat I feel in my stomach at the images.
“That’s just sex,” I tell her dismissively. “Any asshole can give you an orgasm if they’re skilled enough, it doesn’t mean anything.”
To back up what I’m saying, I flash her images of all the other times I hooked up with people, but that just seems to irritate her more. She’s like an ex who wants to get all bent out of shape over who you were with before them.
“You were there for every single one,” I point out to her.
Yeah, I thought I was a latent and she was a wolf back then, but we still had somewhat of a connection. I could feel her when she was very agitated or wanted to exude some good ol’ fashioned dominance. She liked pushing to run the show when it came to my hookups in the past. Aggressive was our middle name.
She flashes me images of Ryn, Treno, and Zeph again, clearly trying to communicate that things are different with them. It seems she doesn’t want to recognize that I was no more attached to them when we fucked than I ever have been to any other guy. The only real difference is that she was attached.
Several images blink through my mind. Pigeon is trying to figure out how to solve the asshole problem occurring in our three mates. I snort in amusement. “Many a woman has tried and failed to suss out the solution to that one, Pidge. I wish you luck, but I’m not holding my breath that there’s a way to fix that. Especially not with these guys,” I tell her, amused.
“What’s so funny?” Ryn asks me. I look over my shoulder to see him settling in next to my blanket.
“Pigeon’s deciding between ripping everyone’s heads off and trying to figure out how we can all be one big happy family,” I tell him, the snark thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Well, that should keep her occupied for the rest of our natural born life,” he replies, and I try not to release an amused snort.
I know Ryn is feeling bad and wants to get on my good side, but it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than apologies and some attempts at comrad
ery for me to trust him.
“Yeah, I had similar advice to dole out,” I admit, focusing back on the twinkling sky.
I can feel Ryn’s eyes boring into the top of my head.
“I was thinking”—he clears his throat nervously—“that maybe we should work on some of your training while we’re making our way to the Quietus Mountains.”
“She doesn’t need to know how to fight. She needs to figure out how to break the Vow. That’s all she should be focusing on,” Zeph cuts in.
“Excuse you.” I glare at him. “I will do everything I can to figure that out, but I can’t do much until I talk to the Ouphe. What does it hurt to get better at swords and shit?”
I think back to the young gryphon Sarai and how badly she kicked my ass with a sword. I could definitely use some work.
“You remembered enough of the language to try to use it on me. Maybe you just need to eliminate all other distractions,” Zeph commands, shooting a pointed look at Treno.
I sit up and spin to give Zeph my best get the fuck over it look, but I kick a rock as I try to swivel, and fuck it hurts. My feet are already beat to shit from not having shoes this whole time, so I pull my poor little pained foot in my lap and fold myself over it as I wait for the pain to recede.
“What kind of soft world do you come from if the small amount of walking we’ve done leaves you so hobbled?” Zeph observes, clearly not caring about my soft feet and their issues.
He’s in a shit mood today, which really isn’t different from the shit mood he’s been in the entire time I’ve known him, but for whatever reason, I get the impression he’s looking for a fight this evening.
Now, if I could only get my foot to stop hurting long enough to give him one. “A better fucking world than this one, I’ll tell you that much,” I snarl at him, flinging a look of disgust at him and the pile of berries still tainting my blanket. “I’d kill for a fucking taco right now. And judge all you want, but a car sure would shorten this little adventure by a shit ton. You can stomp around this forest like you’re a big tough guy, but you can’t drive a manual, and in my world, that separates the men from the boys. So may the rocks bless your barefooted path,” I snap, suddenly homesick and dying for a massive bowl of chips and salsa.
Oooh or some mashed potatoes. I’d happily cut a man for a piece of chocolate cake, no questions asked. But no, I get grot fruit and popcorn meat. Okay, maybe the popcorn meat isn’t so bad, but I miss peanut butter and Oreos.
“I don’t know what any of that means,” Zeph snaps back over his shoulder.
“Exactly. You want to judge me for how I’m surviving in your world? Well, buddy, you wouldn’t last a day in mine.”
“Please. From the looks of things, your people can’t even walk!”
I yank a witty retort from my mind and load my tongue with it, ready to aim and fire, but a whimper-snarl from Treno has me unloading my mouth and looking over to him. Treno has his fingers buried in his hair, and he’s partially bent over like he’s about to pray or something. It seems I’m not the only one hitting my limit with all the bullshit.
Every muscle in his body looks tense, and I wait for him to explode, like I’m watching the wick of a firework burn down. When he doesn’t immediately turn to us and tell us all to shut the rut up, I’m surprised. Another pained noise comes from what sounds like gritted teeth, and his hands fist even tighter in his hair. My irritation is immediately replaced by concern, and I abandon my blanket and move to check on him.
“Treno?” I ask hesitantly.
I wish his name didn’t sound so small coming out of my mouth, but he’s definitely still pissed at me, and I worry if Treno tries to rip my head off for getting near him, then Zeph will get the fight he’s looking for. He seems to have a I can be a dick to her, but you can’t code of conduct when it comes to Treno and how he interacts with me.
“Are you okay?” I ask moving toward him, and Ryn and Zeph both stop bickering and turn to take in what’s going on.
Treno releases a choked gasp, and then his hands move from his hair to his throat.
“Fuck, I think he’s choking!” I scream, running to close the distance between us. Ryn and Zeph shoot to their feet as I scramble to Treno, grabbing his shoulder and wrenching him around.
Zeph and Ryn are shouting something behind me, but I can’t hear it over the terror I see in Treno’s mismatched eyes as they connect with mine. His mouth is open in what looks like a silent plea, and fear hammers through me as I take in his fingers clawing at his throat.
“He needs the Heimlich!” I yell over my shoulder, but when I try to pull Treno up so I can move behind him, a wall of pain unexpectedly slams into me, and I find I can’t move.
I’m so stunned by the rippling agony, and my senses are so completely overwhelmed by the flood, that I sort of just fold in on myself. My legs go weak beneath me as I instantly start suffocating. I grab for my throat and try to gasp for air, just like Treno is doing, but it’s like something is trying to pull the oxygen out of every cell in my body. I’m suffocating, but I also feel like I just might implode at the same time.
Treno rolls to his side, his face starting to go purple and his lips slowly tinting blue. My eyes fill with the same terror I saw in Treno’s gaze, and I look over to see Ryn and Zeph drop to the ground, pain instantaneously etched in both of their faces.
What the hell is going on? I look around to see if I can find the source of what’s happening, but I don’t see anything.
“The bond,” Zeph chokes out, pointing to Treno before whatever is happening to us steals the last of his ability to speak, or move, or do anything other than start to die slowly.
The bond is doing this to us? I ask myself as I try to make sense of it all. I feel my brain starting to grow more sluggish, and it gets harder to grasp the threads I’m trying to hang onto. Is someone doing this to us through the bond? I blink slowly and start to feel my body relax in a way that makes me even more terror-stricken. My body is giving in, when I want it to battle. But battle against what, I scream at myself as I fight futilely against the black specks now dotting my vision.
8
A flash of light explodes to my right, blinding me, and by the time I blink my eyes back into focus, I spot a man standing over Treno like he’s looking for something on his body. Alarm joins my panic, but it’s getting hard to keep my thoughts focused. Everything is starting to feel fuzzy and muted, and my body just lets go, all fight officially sapped from every cell in my body.
“Fuck!” the man growls. “How is your brother getting to you again?” he demands, frustration bleeding out of his tone.
Lazza? Lazza is doing this?
“Where is it?” The man with the cropped white hair and Cristal-colored eyes grumbles. “I took care of the Vow. Lazza shouldn’t be able to get to all of you still,” he defends.
He took care of the Vow. Who is this guy? When did he take care of the Vow?
“Where is the rune Lazza is using right now?” the tall beautiful man demands of Treno, but Treno can’t answer as his arms fall limp and his head starts to loll back.
“By the stars, of course your bloodline has been sneakier than they should have been. Why didn’t I see that though?” he asks himself, oddly. “Where’s your other mark, Altern?” he frustratedly snarls again before he flips Treno onto his other side and searches his body.
“If I have to touch your cock to look for this thing, I’m not going to be pleased,” the unfamiliar man grumps. “Where are you hiding your sneaky little rune?” he sing-songs, and then his eyebrows shoot up with knowing.
He abandons his efforts to untie Treno’s pants and brushes the white strands of Treno’s hair back from the side of his head. He looks behind his ear and then shouts. “Got ya!”
The man presses his hand over Treno’s left ear, and a glow comes to life under his palm.
All at once, the crushing feeling in my lungs, throat, and limbs abates, and I gasp to pull oxygen into my body. I hear
the others doing the same, coughing and heaving as we all try to recover from whatever the hell Lazza just tried to do to us.
I keep my eyes trained on the stranger as he pushes away from Treno and looks around at the rest of us while shaking his head. His champagne-colored eyes seem to be debating something as he takes us in, and then his gaze lands on mine. His concerned eyes soften, and he comes nearer.
I wheeze and stiffen.
“Pidge, I may need you,” I tell her, checking in quickly to make sure she’s okay. I feel her observing everything intently, guarding and assessing the situation, but she doesn’t seem to feel threatened by whoever this is, so I take that into consideration as I refocus on him.
“Don’t be afraid, Falon. I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve been watching your threads closely and saw you were in need of me again. That’s the only reason I’m here,” he explains, but I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about.
Watching my threads?
“I hoped, when I took care of the Altern’s Vow, that you would be able to make it to me on your own—and that maybe all of you would be in a better place when you did—but I think given what just happened again, it might be best to let go of those hopes and just get the group of you to safety.”
“Who are you?” I croak, rubbing my neck as if that will make it all better. Damn, between my throat being slit and whatever Lazza just did to phantom strangle us, I’m worried my vocal cords may never fully recover.
Zeph would be so pleased.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been watching you for so long it makes me feel like we’re old friends,” he tells me on a laugh. “I’m Wekun,” the strange champagne-eyed man declares, offering his hand.