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This crushing weight.
The whites of his eyes weren’t black last time, I’m almost positive. In this light, or now that I’m claimed, everything about him feels very…inhuman.
Attempting to swallow hard, I discover my mouth and throat have gone completely dry.
Pollux adjusts a paper bag beneath one arm and glances between Willow and me.
Willow sips her drink. “Were you shopping?”
“Maybe.”
She scans the logo on the face of the bag. “At…Martyn’s?”
“An apt observation.”
“Why buy food when you can get it free in Faerie? Where do you even get human money?” She gasps and flicks her finger at him. “Did you do a stole?”
Sighing deeply, Pollux’s crimson irises roll in the pitch dark of his eyes. “I don’t have to answer that. Why are you here?”
“I don’t have to answer that.” Willow cocks her head and hip, planting her free hand at her waist. “Why is your house giggling?”
Pollux closes his eyes, astonishingly patient, given how absolutely intimidating he is.
My heart’s racing, and my skin’s gone clammy.
I don’t know how Willow is managing to maintain a conversation that seems intent on pushing his buttons. How do you confidently try to get this mad?
Majestically irritated, Pollux mutters, “What do you want? Last I heard, things were progressing beyond their standstill concerning that one and the runt. Clearly, she’s now claimed. It seems unkind to bully the happy couple with my scent.”
I shrink.
Willow hums. “We need a trod map.”
“With the intent of getting where?”
When Willow looks at me, I wet my shaking lips as best I can. “Greenville, South Carolina. I want to see my sister one last time before I become fully fae.”
Lines form between Pollux’s brows. “Pathetic.” Hefting a sigh, he lifts his chin to indicate the door, then he mutters, “Pardon me.”
Willow and I step into the overgrown grass, so Pollux can get by, open the door, and set the bag down on the floor inside. Shredding noises follow as he closes the door, while still standing outside it. Tucking his fingers in his pockets, he turns back to us.
The longer he stares the more my blood turns to ice.
“Wow,” Willow says finally.
“Hush,” Pollux mumbles.
“Are we friends?” she asks.
Silence.
Something rabid ignites in Willow’s eyes as Pollux plows forward, past us, and back up the sidewalk leading out of the yard. She taps right along after him. “We’re friends.”
“If there’s so much as a scratch on you, your vampire will be out for my blood.”
“First, I heal rapidly. Second, that is hardly a threat to you, oh great dream eater who scares the kitty litter out of him.”
“It is an inconvenience. And depending how deep the scratches are, my prince could be pulled into the fray, and then I would have some difficulties.”
