Chapter 19

19

A s she collects the underwear, she tags each one of them with a number. Mine is number six.

"You will remain here until I shall return." And with that, she's out the door.

I am still dumbfounded. The other girls, however, are not.

They giggle around as they make bets on who's going to be voted out. Apparently, this round three girls will be eliminated.

When Greta returns, she is carrying a bag full of numbered underwear—the men's.

"You have ten minutes to deliberate which men you will vote out," she instructs.

"What? How?" I blurt out.

"By smelling these, of course. It is a scent test. You must decide which ones are the most appealing."

I stare at her, flabbergasted. Did she just say that we must smell the men's underwear?

Ewwww.

Greta leaves the room and we are all left alone with the men's pairs of underwear. The other girls, however, don't seem in the least put out as they go, one by one, and they start sniffing the underwear.

"This one has a pleasant musk," one notes, inhaling deeply. She behaves almost like my dog, and that is concerning.

More girls come forward to smell the piece.

They do the same with the others, complimenting some while placing others aside. Yet it's all very personal, so it comes down to a majority vote. What is pleasant to one, may not be pleasant to the other. If a pair is not chosen by three or more girls, it is set aside.

"This one has no smell at all," Loraine frowns. "Do you sense anything?" she asks her friend, who shakes her head.

"Barbara, you have not smelled any," one of the girls calls out.

My lips tremble as I stare at the underwear in her hands.

"I don't have the same olfactory senses as you do," I say as an excuse. "I'm human."

"Human? But how so? We all saw you heal from those cuts."

"Well, it's complicated. But I cannot tell one smell from the other, so whatever you guys choose, I'll go along," I mention.

They don't seem to mind. But as they continue to classify each pair, I can't help but wonder which one is Nykander's and what that would smell like. My lips draw into a tight line. A hole forms in my stomach as I regard the other girls sniff away at the underwear, somehow uncomfortable with the thought that they must be smelling him .

You're not supposed to care, Barbi! Get a grip.

Yet it's easier said than done. Even though weeks have passed—enough for me to get over the incident—I haven't managed to forget him. And that is the most infuriating thing.

It's the bond. It must be the bond. Because who's sadistic enough to drool after an entitled asshole? Not me! Well, technically not me. I would not normally do that. But I will accede that this time there might be extenuating circumstances and I might be drooling over him.

Ugh! Goddamn it, Barbi! You're the worst, you know that? You're like those doormat heroines you hate to love in romance novels who swoon at the very sight of a tall, dark, and handsome hero.

My nose wrinkles in disgust at myself.

It's the bond. It must be the bond.

Yes. And because it's the bond, which is instinctual, I must use my brain to combat it. Which is where my pettiness comes into play. I will win this competition and I will show Nykander who the silly little girl is.

But while the girls are chatting merrily on the subject of the men's underwear, it dawns on me that the men must be doing the same over our panties.

Oh my God!

My cheeks flame up.

I only put on those panties today, so I doubt there is much to smell, but still. Even when my parents threatened to cut me off and I briefly considered resorting to selling my used underwear or feet pics to feed my book addiction, I realized I could not do it. Not because I have anything against those who do, but because I couldn't imagine anyone getting aroused at my stuff without my express permission—and presence. But now it's happening. And like a fool, I allowed it to happen because I am the queen of pettiness who would rather put up with that to continue in this cursed competition.

I'm suddenly startled out of my thoughts when the time is up.

The girls have piled up the pairs they are voting out, and Greta comes to take them with her. We are instructed to follow her back to the location of the bonfire where the men are also back in their line.

"Welcome back!" Elijah intones. "You have decided which people to eliminate for this round. I will now call them out," he says before he proceeds to recite a few names.

The girls whimper when they hear theirs, and I am entirely surprised that I do not hear mine.

So I'm still here.

And Nykander is still here, too, judging by the fact that his name doesn't get called.

I give him a deadly glare.

He returns it with a wicked smile that's half grin, half smirk, which infuriates me further.

You panty-smelling pervert!

I don't know whether I'm more mad at the fact that the girls smelled his underwear, or that he smelled the girls' panties. Never mind, I should be angry that someone else smelled my underwear.

Ugh! Such a dilemma.

Maybe I should be mad at all instances equally.

"Congratulations, everyone. We can now move to the third trial. After smell, the second sense we will entertain tonight will be sight."

Entertain… That is an odd way of putting it. I wonder who came up with these tests because they're all a bit wonky if you ask me.

"For the trial of sight, you will all be required to shed all your clothing. As before, three males and three females will be voted out via the consensus of the opposite party. The goal is to ensure that the remaining contestants find each other's form pleasing, which will ultimately culminate in the fourth trial, that of touch. You have ten minutes to deliberate."

I frown. I did not understand anything of what he said except that I need to undress.

Hell no!

I stare around, noticing that both the men and the women are already pulling at their clothes. Panic swells inside of me.

I've never been naked in front of anyone before! I would never want the first time I do it to be in front of tens of strangers.

My voice is trapped in my throat as my limbs tremble with fear.

What the hell is with these trials? These people are fucking perverts! First the sniffing of underwear and now the nakey-nakey stuff? No, thank you. My wide eyes crash with Nykander's icy ones.

The men's shirts are flying, but he doesn't move a muscle. And before I can blink, he teleports in front of me.

His dark mist emanates from his body, solidifying and surrounding us in an opaque cocoon, away from everyone else's gaze.

I slowly look up.

He is…pissed.

His jaw is clenched tight as he stares down at me.

Screams and shouts resound from the other side of the mist as people try to get him to lower his shield or they will remove both of us from the competition.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

"You will not look," he rasps.

"W-what?"

"You. Will. Not. Look," he repeats roughly, his nostrils flaring.

"Nykander…"

"This competition ends here," he declares, not even bothering to ask me what I want or think.

Loud noises erupt and the shield becomes translucent enough that I spot others using their powers against us. There are some fire balls and even shards of glass, all thrown against his dark mist.

"Stop it," I say. "Stop it, Nykander."

His eyes flash for a moment before his dark mist recedes back in his body. The action is forceful, not at all the graceful way it used to undulate around his body.

He stares at me with a combination of awe and outrage, as if he doesn't know whether to kiss me or strangle me.

I mentally scoff at my train of thought.

He'd never kiss me . Where the hell do these ideas even come from?

See, Barbi, this is what happens when you live too long in fictional worlds. You start waxing poetic about undeserving assholes.

"This is not permitted." Elijah steps forward. "You two are disqualified."

The other contestants agree, though some of the girls are put out that Nykander will not be in the competition anymore.

Nykander grunts absentmindedly and we are told to leave or go back to the crowd.

I turn to leave, but he stops me. He grabs me by the hand and pulls me in front of him, covering my entire line of sight with his body.

"Do not move," he says in a low voice.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I frown and try to bypass him.

"Do not push me, Barbi. Not now. I have not fed in weeks and you have flaunted your blood in front of me all night. I am close to my breaking point and if you do not want to see people die, do not push me to my breaking point."

"Well, you should have thought about that before you behaved like a raging asshole. You have now lost all feeding privileges, so I would appreciate it if you could unhand me and let me go. I wish to see the end of this competition."

"No."

One word. Just one word. His body is tense, his entire aura murderous despite seemingly being in control of his shadows.

"What?"

"We are leaving," he says and pulls me toward the end of the crowd.

With our ongoing dispute, I miss the rest of the trial. Elijah announces three men and women as the finalists moving to the last round, and I strain to catch sight of who they are.

Nykander, though, pulls me back, once more blocking my view.

"Let me go, you beast," I mutter under my breath.

"Stop. Squirming," he grits out.

A tremor goes down his body. He closes his eyes briefly before he pulls me toward him again.

I stumble forward, and I instinctually reach for him to stabilize myself. He's there, though, catching me. His hands find my ribcage, keeping me in place so I don't fall. His body is frozen to the spot and taut with tension.

Is he going to snap at me? I wonder.

He's so tightly wound up and I don't know what triggered this awful mood of his. Then again, he is an asshole, so he doesn't need much to go off on me. I only need to exist and he scowls at me every second.

I wrap my fingers in his clothing to pull myself up when a flash of pink material catches my eye.

There. In his pocket.

I slowly look up. His eyes widen, and I could swear his cheeks redden.

We stare at each other for moments on end.

Voices blare in the distance as the competition continues. Shouts, grunts, and other indescribable noises echo in my ear. But they all fade away as my focus becomes wrapped up in him.

"Why do you have that?" I whisper.

He blinks, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Why do you have that, Nykander? Why do you have my panties? Did you steal them?" I squeak.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Because you are a little fool. You gave them away with little to no coaxing. What were you thinking, Barbi? Giving strange men your underwear to sniff at?" He scowls at me, his expression dangerous.

"You're calling me a fool? You gave yours as well!"

"No. I did not."

"What?"

"Good thing I was there to stop this from happening before some misguided lad got his hands on your underwear. I doubt I would have been able to control myself then."

I blink as I stare at him, flabbergasted.

"I don't understand you," I whisper.

"It is better that you do not." He sighs. "If you only knew…" He scrubs his hand over his weary features.

"You were the one who wanted to enter this competition in the first place. Now you're blaming me for playing by the rules? You're a hypocrite, Nykander!" I tell him sternly.

"Do you even know what this competition is about, Barbi?" He raises a brow at me.

"To crown the King and Queen of the Moon, of course."

"And what do you think happens once the king and queen are crowned?"

"That…" My brows draw together. "I don't know."

"They fuck," he states blankly. "They fuck in front of everyone."

My lips part in shock.

"W-what?" I mumble. "What do you mean?"

"This is not a competition per se. It is a mating ritual. The king and queen will mate and receive special treatment from the village. Why do you think scent plays such an important part? Why do you think people removed their clothes and are now touching and caressing each other?"

"I—"

"It is all part of a scheme to match a compatible male with a compatible female."

Right at that moment, Elijah announces the winners: Flin and Loraine.

The crowd cheers for them, and the celebrations resume with more vigor.

I peek through the gap of his elbow, straining to see what's happening.

There is a bed in front of the bonfire that wasn't there before. The spectators are loud and boisterous as they give pointers to the winners. I catch sight of movement on the bed and a few flashes of naked limbs tangled together before a loud moan pierces through the air.

That's all I can see, however, before Nykander once more blocks my view.

"They're… They're having sex. Right there," I stammer, my eyes wide.

"That is enough, Barbi. We are leaving," Nykander states tightly.

"But if you knew… Why would you participate? Why would you let me participate?" I ask on a whimper.

"Because I just found out," he grunts. "That fucking Jeya tricked us both."

"But…" I don't get to say anything else as Nykander envelops me in his arms and teleports us back to the cabin.

PomPom and BonBon startle awake at our presence, rushing to greet us.

I push him away from me, my expression one of pure disdain.

"Don't touch me," I grit out.

I take a step back, and surprisingly he allows me.

His features are still tense, his breathing labored.

He stares at me with a pensive look on his face.

"You can see yourself out now," I mutter as I walk deeper into the cabin and take a seat on the bed.

PomPom and BonBon jump in with me and I pet them both while ignoring Nykander.

He doesn't leave, though.

He stands there, unmoving.

PomPom turns on her back, exposing her little pregnant belly and begging for belly rubs. I, of course, indulge her—everything in an attempt to ignore Nykander in hopes that he will leave. There is slight movement in her stomach, and I swear I can almost feel the babies move. Tears poke at my eyes as my whole being fills with an ineffable description.

My PomPom will have babies. And she's so close to giving birth. By my estimates, it's been around fifty-five days since she and BonBon met, and her gestation period should be around sixty-three days. That's just a week away.

Worry gnaws at me.

I've never seen a dog give birth. I don't know what she will need and if I will be able to accommodate her needs from here. That healer Nykander had suggested hadn't been of much use. He specializes in people, not dogs.

"You're going to be a daddy soon." I scratch BonBon's ears. "Are you excited?"

He lets out a loud bark before he turns to PomPom, licking her on the stomach and sniffing her privates.

I blink, then I blush.

Why do I feel like I'm intruding on an intimate moment of my dogs?

From the corner of my eye, I see Nykander is still there. He's balancing himself on his heels as he stares at us intently.

"Why are you still here?"

He purses his lips.

"Are you going to blame me for failing the competition now?" I raise a brow.

"No," he mutters.

"Really? Because this was your chance to meet the High Priestess if you won."

He shrugs. "She will call on us eventually."

It doesn't escape me that he said us not me .

I narrow my eyes at him.

"So that's it? No insults? No more calling me a fool?"

"What you did was foolish." He sighs as he steps closer. "Were you going to take off your clothes?" He surprises me by asking.

"Of course not," I reply immediately. "I thought it was weird with the whole panty-smelling thing. I mean, who does that? But because I didn't know what it was for, I sort of went along."

"Why? You didn't have to enter the competition."

"Because I am petty," I tell him as I cross my arms over my chest. "And I planned to humiliate you once you won."

A smile pokes at his lips.

"I see. You certainly displayed your pettiness in the skill trial."

"Damn right. It happens to be a true talent, so you'd better watch your back from now on. I have downgraded you from my pink notebook to my black one to suit your dark, dark soul."

"But I thought you were the light to that dark, dark soul?" he adds with a smile.

"Careful, Dark One," I tell him in a warning tone. "You might unlock my other talent. And it will not bode well for you, especially seeing as how we're trapped together for now."

"And what is that talent?" He takes another step forward.

I smirk and get up. "I am as petty as I am obsessive."

His features light up in surprise.

"But whereas you might have earned my good type of obsessiveness while you were a member of the pink notebook crew, since you are now on my black list, the level of obsessiveness will be adjusted accordingly."

"And what does that…obsessiveness entail?"

"I'll make your life a living hell," I say without missing a beat. "I might not have any of those fancy powers of yours, but I do have something that's even better."

He raises his brows.

"Perseverance," I continue. "I do not forget, nor do I forgive."

"Not even if you receive a sincere apology?"

His words startle me.

"What?"

He takes one more step. We're now in front of each other, which does me little good since he's even more good-looking than I remembered. But I will not let his godly tier looks rattle me. Not when I am in full vengeance mode.

"I apologize." He brings a hand to my face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

His eyes are on mine, and I am surprised to see his words are genuine.

"What are you saying?" I swallow.

"I am sorry for how I behaved. I should not have spoken to you in that way." He takes a deep breath. "You did not deserve any of it, Barbi. It was my own frustration that got the best of me and I lashed out at you."

"Did you just…" My lashes flutter in absolute shock. "You're saying you were wrong? You're taking accountability for your words and actions?"

He nods solemnly.

"Dear God, I truly must be in a fictional world," I mutter to myself, which prompts him to frown in confusion.

"I am sorry if my words hurt you," he repeats, his voice grave and unsure.

His entire countenance screams uncertainty for someone whose natural confidence oozes at any moment.

I tilt my head as I study him.

"You don't apologize often, do you?"

He shakes his head.

"It is my first time."

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

"First time since you escaped, or first time in your thirteen thousand whatever years?"

He mutters something under his breath.

"What?"

"First time in thirteen thousand years," he eventually admits.

"That's why you're so bad at it." I nod pensively.

He's taken aback by my words.

"Whatever do you mean?" he demands.

"Well, first of all. It's been weeks , Nykander. You don't apologize now because it's convenient. You apologize after you mess up and realize you hurt the other person."

He glances away, looking thoroughly chastised.

"I did not realize how much I hurt you until weeks after," he murmurs guiltily. "I have been…watching you. Trying to decipher you. But the more I learned, the more confused I became about how to approach you. And there was no manual for this at the village library."

"You… You searched the library for a manual?" I ask, flabbergasted.

"I am not the best when it comes to feminine sensibilities. I did not want to mess it up even more than before."

"Oh, wow." My eyes widen. "So you decided avoiding me for almost a month was better?" I ask.

He sheepishly nods.

"You, my dear Dark One, are quite emotionally stunted for one so old." I shake my head at him.

He blinks. Then smiles.

"You called me my dear," he says, pleased with himself.

"Is that all you got out of this? Good Lord, you're hopeless."

"Will you forgive me?" He bats his lashes at me as I used to do and for the first time, I'm on the receiving end of this tactic. Horror grips me as I realize how effective it is.

"No," I reply firmly. "You treated me badly. A verbal apology will not change anything. You will have to prove that you are apologetic."

"And how do I do that?" He blinks.

"That, my dear Dark One, is your job to figure out. Now you can see yourself out. I need a shower." I turn to leave. "Oh, but first, give me back my panties," I say as I reach for his pocket.

He sidesteps me and moves my hand aside.

"You gave them freely. I took them, therefore I will keep them."

"You pervert!" I accuse. "Give me my panties back!"

He backs away, a devilish smile pulling at his lips.

"Nykander! I don't have that many pairs as it is and I have to wash them daily. Please give me back my panties," I say with a sigh.

"I will get you more," he replies, evading me further.

I consider his words for a moment.

"Pink?" I raise a brow.

" Very pink."

I purse my lips as I regard him. Then I shake my head.

This man is odd. And that is saying something since I am quite odd too.

"Fine. Whatever. Now go."

Just when I think he's finally going to leave me alone, he does something that surprises me. He catches my hand, twirling me back to him. My breasts brush against his chest, my lips parting in surprise.

"W-what are you doing?" I stammer, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

"Proving that I am apologetic." He smirks.