Chapter 17

17

" H ere, taste it," I say as I scoop a spoonful of the stew I made.

Nykander leans forward, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the spoon.

I do my best to remain unaffected, though it's been harder and harder to do, considering we are together every waking hour of the day—and we sleep in the same small cabin, despite him continuously choosing the floor.

It's been close to three weeks since the river incident, and just like before, it has become a taboo subject between us. We don't speak about it. We don't reference it. We simply pretend it never happened.

Well, he can pretend all he wants, since I've developed insomnia from overthinking every little interaction we had as I wondered if I did something wrong.

I can't even ask the man what happened because he will simply disappear on me.

Yet despite that, our relationship has changed for the better. We've become…friends—if I can even call us that considering I have a one-sided crush on him.

Our days are filled with doing tasks of the commune, and since we're always together, we've found ways to get along and have fun with each other. Of course, Nykander being Nykander, he asks the guards every day when we can see the High Priestess. And every day he gets the same reply—she will call on us.

But when my good-looking friend isn't scowling or telling me I talk too much, he's actually pleasant to be around. Bonus, PomPom and BonBon already consider him a part of the family.

He is the first to wake up in the mornings to exercise the dogs, and he's also the one stealing meat from the kitchens to surreptitiously feed them. He doesn't know I know that, but he forgets I am the one who folds his clothes and takes them to the laundry room. And every time I search his pockets, I find little pieces of meat stuck to the material.

That silly man.

He is the most thoughtful villain I've ever met—not that I've met others. But I've read about them, and they don't usually go around stealing meat for dogs or sourcing pink clothes for me. Because he's done that too.

I would randomly come back to our little cabin and find a new pink dress on the bed. When I asked about it, he would always shrug and say someone had thrown it away and he'd salvaged it.

He doesn't seem to realize that no one throws things away here. What they do is trade.

And for a while now, Nykander has been without his precious ring.

My heart clenches with longing the more I think of those hidden gestures for which he never wants to claim any credit. And despite knowing what's in store for us, I can't help but hope that maybe, maybe it doesn't have to be that way.

Maybe there is still hope.

"This is good," Nykander exclaims, surprised. He licks the spoon and dips it in the pot to get some more.

"Really?" I blink.

"Taste it. It's the best one you've cooked so far," he praises, his words genuine.

I taste the stew, smacking my lips together to analyze the taste.

"It is good. Oh my God, Nykander! I did it!" I exclaim as I jump up and down, throwing myself at him.

He catches me in his arms, hugging me to his chest.

"You did it," he murmurs in my hair.

"I can't believe it," I cry out, my emotions getting the best of me.

This is the third time I have been on cooking duty, and the only time I have managed to make something edible. The previous times, Nykander had to swoop in and save the day but now, for the first time, I did it all by myself.

And it's rather delicious, if I do say so myself.

"Here, let me get you a bowl. You deserve the first one after all your patience." I smile. Turning to where the dishes are, I select one of the bigger bowls for him and fill it up with stew.

"Thank you. I am deeply honored." He inclines his head.

I chuckle, pushing the plate in front of him.

He takes a spoon, but I stop him as I get a sudden idea.

"Wait."

Grabbing a knife, I prick my finger and let a few drops of blood fall into the soup.

His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't stop me.

"Now it's personalized, too." I wink.

"Hmm," he murmurs as he takes a few sips. "It is good. But I think I prefer it straight from the source."

My cheeks redden and I look away.

"I suppose you have earned that," I murmur, extending my wrist toward him.

Since that night when he bit my neck, he's never attempted to do so again. He only feeds from my wrist, keeping me a distance away.

He takes my hand, turning it palm up as his mouth hovers over my wrist.

I watch anxiously as I wait for the moment his teeth will sink into my skin—for the pain that is always shadowed by immense pleasure.

His lips skim my skin, making me break out in goose bumps.

I bite my lip, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

But just as his fangs graze my skin, the door to the kitchen opens and Jeya strides in.

Nykander doesn't move. He keeps my arm next to his face as he regards Jeya with annoyance.

"Can you not see we are busy?" he asks dryly.

Jeya rolls his eyes.

"Oh, I can see. So can everyone else." He points to the big windows that lead into the courtyard. There are some twenty-thirty kids and youths crowding the windows as they stare curiously at us.

Mortification swallows me whole and I pull my arm away from him.

"Why are you here, Jeya?" Nykander straightens his back, giving him a deadly stare.

"Aside from the fact that you are corrupting the minds of our youths?"

"W-what? We were not doing anything bad," I sputter. "I was only giving him some stew."

"Yes, I noticed that. He was really eyeing that stew," Jeya says with a wiggle of his brows.

"What did I tell you before, Jeya?" Nykander narrows his eyes at him. "Mayhap you remember our conversation from three weeks ago."

"And what if I decided not to…heed your words?" He tilts his head, amusement playing at his lips as he regards Nykander.

I look between the two of them, wondering what the hell they're talking about. When had Nykander and Jeya spoken? What had they spoken about?

Nykander's dark shadows emanate from his body, tendrils of darkness reaching toward Jeya. His irises turn black and the mood inside the kitchen suddenly shifts. There's pure murderous intent coming from Nykander, and I can't understand why.

"Nykander?" I ask, pulling on his sleeve. "There are children watching."

That seems to momentarily stop him from going berserk.

Jeya smirks.

"Four weeks from now, there will be a festivity in the village. It is our annual moon festival. The High Priestess will not personally attend, but she will be watching. Based on your performance that night, she will decide whether to allow you to meet with her."

I frown.

"Our performance? What do you mean?"

His eyes move from me to Nykander.

"There is a celebration, of course. But each year, there is a competition to crown the King and Queen of the Moon. It is a silly custom, of course. The High Priestess has not specifically expressed that she wishes you to attain those titles, but it would not hurt to try. The winners are always invited to spend an evening with her."

"And how would we go about winning?"

Jeya smiles.

"That you will find out during the festival. Each year, the High Priestess comes up with different tasks."

With that, he turns to leave. But not before he scolds the youths hanging by the window and telling them to go do their chores.

Nykander is silent as he mulls over Jeya's words.

"I'm sure it can't be anything too hard," I say in an attempt to alleviate his worries.

His lips flatten.

"Or it might be intentionally hard. A test. And if we do not pass…"

"Don't be so pessimistic." I hit him playfully in the shoulder. "The villagers might have powers, but I doubt anyone is as strong as you."

In our time in the village, we've witnessed some of the abilities of the people around. They ranged from control over the elements, to the manipulation of metals and enhanced senses. Yet despite their abilities, they are all mortals, which makes Nykander the only god/demon around.

"I appreciate your trust in me, but this trial might not measure strength, or abilities. And do not forget it is King and Queen, which means you will need to win as well."

"And you think I won't?" I raise a brow at him. "I was born to win. You should see the trophies I got at all the dance competitions I attended with PomPom. One might say I revolutionized tandem dancing with dogs."

He shakes his head at me.

"I doubt you are going to be asked to dance with your dog."

"You never know," I fire back. "It might be a secret talent show. And that is my secret talent. Not only is my routine with PomPom flawless, but it also shows how well I trained her."

"And here I thought your secret talent was to talk someone's ear off," he mutters.

"Hey!" My eyes widen. "What did you say?" I narrow my eyes at him, picking up the spoon and pointing it at him, splashing him with a few drops of stew in the process.

And here I thought things were going too good between us since we have not squabbled in a full day.

Alas, it proved to be too good to be true.

"Do not even try to deny it, Barbi." He shakes his head in amusement.

"I never?—"

"Barbi." He sighs, though a smile pulls at his lips. "You speak an average of two hundred and five words per minute when you are excited."

"Two hundred and five?" My lashes flutter. "That is a very exact number…"

"Of course." He nods. "I counted."

"You…counted?"

He proudly nods again.

"You…" My nostrils flare as I take the spoon and hit him lightly. "Instead of listening to me, you were counting my words? How dare you!" I cry out.

"I am sure the color of PomPom's poop is very interesting, but not when I am trying to sleep after an entire day's worth of work," he adds, slowly walking away from me.

My eyes widen and I start after him.

His lips are tipped up in amusement as he watches me chase after him, seemingly deriving great pleasure from making fun of me.

"It's her health! I need to be mindful of her poop."

"As you say, poop master." He inclines his head in a mocking gesture.

"Nykander…" I grit out, not seeing the fun in this. "PomPom's stomach has been upset lately. Of course I need to make sure there is nothing wrong with her."

"I never said otherwise." He chuckles.

"Oh you…you sneaky demon! I will catch you and?—"

"Lecture me on more poop?" he asks with a raised brow.

"Ugh!" I stomp my feet as I continue to chase him.

He stops, and I almost collide with him. He steadies me, placing his hands on my shoulders and keeping me in place.

"Her poop is fine, Barbi. I asked around. Mr. Foerie from two cabins down from ours worked as a healer, and I asked him if there was anything wrong."

"You…did?" I glance up at him. "So you did listen?"

"You are very hard not to listen to." He chuckles. "But although there is no problem with her poop, there is something else…"

Panic flares inside of me.

I grab his hands, sliding closer.

"What? Please don't tell me she's sick. Not here, away from modern medicine and?—"

"She is not sick," he assures me. "She is just breeding."

"She is…" I repeat numbly. "Did you say breeding?"

"She is carrying younglings. Mr. Foerie suspects she will give birth sometime next month."

"My… My PomPom is pregnant? As in… BonBon and her mated?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"That is how younglings come about, Barbi," he says with a deep sigh.

"Oh my God! How could I not know this? How could I have not seen it coming? Nykander! My PomPom is going to have babies," I exclaim, freaking out.

"It is what dogs do. It is not that shocking."

"It is! Oh Lord! She needs to be more pampered and she needs better nutrition."

Right as I say that, it dawns on me that I am in the kitchen. I have access to the food.

Leaving Nykander's side, I ransack the meat pantry and pull aside some raw chicken.

"This is what you usually get for them, no?" I turn back to ask Nykander.

A guilty look flashes across his face.

"You…knew?" he asks as he scratches the back of his head.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out."

"It is that one." He steps forward and grabs it for me. Taking it to the table, he chops it in small bites and he adds them to some boiling water.

"PomPom and BonBon have grown on you, haven't they?"

"You could say so." He shrugs. But I don't miss the smile that tips his lips.

We fill a small pouch with pieces of meat and abscond away. Well, technically, our shift at the kitchen is done since I finished cooking.

PomPom and BonBon are chasing each other around, playing together, and immediately, worry grips me. Shouldn't PomPom be more careful? For the first time since this adventure, I wish we were home since a vet could run tests on her and ensure she's doing fine. But I guess we have to make do with Mr. Foerie's advice.

The door closes behind us, and PomPom and BonBon notice us. To my surprise, it's not me they hurry toward.

It's Nykander.

"Aha." I narrow my eyes at him. "This is why you've been feeding them all this time. You wanted to gain their favor."

He doesn't answer, a hidden smile playing at his lips. He takes out the pouch with meat from his pocket. The dogs immediately jump up and down, spinning to express their joy. He lures them with the food to the corner where we'd placed their feeding bowls, and he splits the meat between the two.

They do another happy dance in front of him—one that PomPom used to do only for me.

I stand on the sidelines and glare at him.

He stole my heart, and now he's stealing my dogs.

After the dogs eat, Nykander takes them out for a walk, and again I can do nothing but follow behind, feeling like a damn forth wheel. Especially as he continuously praises PomPom and calls her his good girl.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs as he scratches her ears after she poops. BonBon, wanting to be praised too, starts running in circles around him. He raises himself on his hind legs and dabs Nykander with his little paws.

"You too, BonBon. You are a good, good boy," he says with an easygoing laugh.

I sulk.

Despite the routine we've established with our chores around the village, he's never once been this relaxed with me. There's always tension between us, as if he holds himself back.

I am a few steps behind them as I watch their interactions green with envy. It's not that I'm actually jealous of my dogs—they deserve the world. I just wish he gave me the same love and attention, too.

PomPom barks as she jumps on him, yapping back and forth.

"You like that, do you not?" He laughs as he pets her gently. "Yes. Good girl." She responds to the praise, pushing her snout into his palm and asking for more.

"You are the best girl," he says with a chuckle.

"What about me?" I blurt out, crossing my arms over my chest.

He turns to regard me with a raised brow.

"What about you?"

"Am I not a good girl too?"

PomPom and BonBon also look at me questioningly.

Nykander tilts his head and stares at me, his gaze deep and penetrating.

"What are you asking, Barbi?"

"You always tell PomPom good girl this, good girl that, but what about me?" I push my chin up. "I am also a good girl. I do my chores. I learned how to cook. I even put in more work to make up for the clothes I lost at the river. How come I never get a praise?"

"They are dogs, Barbi," he says, straightening his back. "There are different expectations with dogs."

"How so? I have worked my ass off and deserve some praise, too. Is it so hard to call me good girl every now and then too?"

My cheeks heat up in mortification as it dawns on me I'm begging at this point.

"And will you get on your knees in front of me to receive it as well?"

My eyes widen.

He doesn't blink, watching me and awaiting my reaction.

"Is that what you want?" I speak slowly. "For me to get on my knees in front of you?"

"Will you?" He smirks.

"Well." I clear my throat, suddenly out of my depth. "I am not sure what exactly you want me to do."

"I think you know exactly what I want you to do," he drawls.

The dogs have already wandered off, playing around. They are oblivious to the thick tension simmering between us.

"You are a cad, Nykander. Has anyone told you that before?" I throw the words at him when I realize he is messing with me.

"Maybe not in so many words."

"Then take this! You are an insufferable cad and I am sick of your games! You are an asshole and a player. A villainous fuckboy!"

"When have I played any games?"

Pure rage grips me at seeing him so nonchalant about this.

"You're always hot and cold. One moment you behave as if you care about me, the next you ignore me as if I'm not even there. Like today. You were so nice to me, but then you had to ruin everything by being an ass just now."

A bored expression appears on his face.

"So?"

"What do you mean so ? Don't you see that you're sending me mixed signals? Like what happened at the river a few weeks ago. We never talked about that because you always disappear when I bring it up."

His expression hardens.

"Nothing happened, Barbi."

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! Something did happen. We almost kissed, Nykander. Perhaps even more than that. I am not dumb, no matter what you may think of me. I saw the way you looked at me. I saw that you were…hard." I swallow hard, fighting the flush that envelops my entire face.

He takes a step forward. His eyes flash dangerously.

"Nothing. Happened. Barbi."

"Ugh, you insufferable man!" I stomp my feet. "Is it so hard to admit that you're attracted to me? That you wanted to kiss me?"

Before I know what's happening, my back hits a hard surface—the wall of the cabin behind us. The impact is enough to rattle me, but not enough to hurt. He's in front of me, caging me in as he leans forward.

His silver eyes shift under my gaze, a mix of light and dark as if both essences were fighting for supremacy inside him.

"You really do not know when to shut up, do you, Barbi?"

"Uhm…" I bite my lip. "I prefer to be straightforward. If something bothers me, then I will talk about it. If we don't talk about it, then how are we going to resolve the issue?"

"I was not aware there was any issue to be resolved."

"There clearly is one since?—"

"Since I will not call you a good girl, and I will not kiss you or do more. Is that it?"

My lashes flutter as my chin tips in a small, barely perceptible nod.

"Should I do it then? Kiss you now? Will that satisfy you?" he asks, a mocking smile pulling at his lips.

My lips part as I stare at him.

He is absolutely breathtaking up close. But all that beauty is marred by the way he looks at me—the way he seemingly has no consideration for me or my feelings.

He comes closer, and I feel his erection against my belly. Bringing his hand to my throat, he tips my chin up with his thumb until our lips are a mere breath apart.

"But no. You will not be satisfied with one kiss. You will want more, won't you? Because you are a greedy bitch begging for cock every time you look at me with those fucking doe eyes of yours. So what is next? Will a fuck do? Will that satisfy you so that you will leave me the fuck alone and stop with your goddamn incessant yapping?"

A pang of hurt goes through me at his words.

"W-what…"

"I can't fuck your cunt—that would fulfill our bond. But I will fuck your ass. What do you say?"

I gulp down, but it feels as if I'm swallowing glass.

"One kiss. One fuck. Will that suffice?"

"You're being mean," I whisper.

"I am not being mean, Barbi. I am being real. I do not want you. I may desire you, but I suppose it is to be expected since we are blood bonded. But I will not do anything that may risk us becoming permanently attached."

"Yes, you are." My voice trembles. "You are being crude and vulgar and?—"

"One kiss. One fuck. Take it or leave it," he grits out.

His hand caresses my neck, circling it like a necklace. His mouth hovers over mine, his breath hot against my cold skin and even colder heart.

I have never had anyone speak to me like this. What's worse is that it's not only his words that are like an arrow to my heart, but also his gaze. He looks at me as if he's disgusted by me. Perhaps I have misjudged the situation once more because of my silly dreams and ideas. Perhaps his attraction to me is just a byproduct of our bond and nothing else.

But why does this hurt so much?

Why am I so caught up in this maddening crush that I would allow myself to be humiliated in such a way? Because this is humiliation. I wanted praise. He gave me degradation—and it's not even the sexy kind.

"One kiss. One fuck," I repeat. His brows shoot up, surprised I would actually consider this. "You will give that to me. Now?"

"Say the word, and I will."

A dry smile pulls at my lips.

"But I am a greedy bitch begging for cock. How can you be sure I will be satisfied with that?" I raise a brow at him.

My heart hardens in my chest. All the hopes from before are dashed again, and I can't help but wonder. Just how long will I continue like this? How long will I hope for a modicum of attention from a man who, at best, tolerates me?

"I reckon it will only whet my appetite for more," I add with a shrug. "But I suppose it is all right. There are plenty of available men in this village. I was talking to Jeya just yesterday and he seemed interested. I guess I will have to fill the void somehow, no?"

"When did you talk to Jeya?" he suddenly rasps, his hold tightening against my neck.

"Wouldn't you want to know?" I smirk. "I was curious to see if his kisses are as sloppy as yours. Just for comparison's sake, you know. And I am happy to inform you that?—"

He snarls. A loud, grating noise that makes me squeeze my eyes shut in alarm.

"Did he touch you?" He growls in my ear—an animalistic sound that makes me shake with alarm. "Did he fucking touch you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." I give a careless shrug as I stare at him right in the eyes. "Tell me something, Nykander. If another man fucks me, will you feel that too? Will you feel him deep inside of me, stroking me and filling me with his cock? Will you feel every time he gives me an earth-shattering orgasm?"

I've always known I was petty, but not to this degree. And damn if it doesn't feel good.

"Barbi…" he grits out, his voice barely controlled.

"What? I am a greedy bitch begging for cock. You said it yourself."

"If any male lays a finger on you, I will raze this entire village to the fucking ground. Do not test me, Barbi," he rasps, his voice a dangerous warning.

I frown.

"You called me a villain. Then for you, a villain I will become. One finger, Barbi. One finger, and all those lives will be forfeited."

"Even the children?"

His smile widens.

"One finger, Barbi. That is all. You so much as smile at another male, and he will be dead. You have my word on that."

"You are awful," I mutter in shock. "How… How could I have believed there was anything nice about you when?—"

"Because you are a silly little girl with stupid romantic dreams who thinks she is living some type of epic romance. I am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but?—"

I don't let him finish as I bring my knee up and hit him right between his legs with as much force as I can muster.

"Take that from a silly little girl, you nasty old man," I tell him.

His hand falls from my neck, and a look of pure shock descends on his features. He takes a step back, reeling from the pain.

I stand my ground as I stare him in the eye.

This is all my fault. Once more, I fell for his little tricks, which I now see were only meant to keep me pliable and by his side.

Squeezing my right hand into a fist, I rotate my shoulder and make contact with his nose, gleefully watching the blood pour out of his nostrils.

"Good luck winning that competition by yourself," I tell him before I stomp away.

As I walk, I straighten my back. For the first time since…forever, I am proud of myself.

Even though my heart is in pieces at my feet, I am damn proud of myself.