27. Chapter 27

Chapter twenty-seven

T his pub is getting busier and rowdier. The football match has drawn quite the crowd. Perfect for what we need, but it is making me a little uneasy. There are so many people packed into one space that if things went wrong, they’d go really wrong. Very quickly.

I take another deep breath. Everything is fine. Mabon’s disguise is flawless, and he is keeping his hood up like I told him to. No one has given us more than a glance.

My plan of slipping into recently vacated tables and acting as if the leftover food and drinks are ours, is working perfectly.

Mabon likes fish and chips, and hunter’s chicken. He likes cider but hates beer. Not that his dislike seems to stop him from drinking it. I’m going to have to stop him soon. A drunk Mabon is the last thing I need.

But at the moment he looks so happy that I can’t bring myself to curtail his enthusiasm. He is looking around with keen interest, acting like this shitty chain pub is something special. He is not complaining at all about eating leftovers. In fact, every time we slide into a new table, he is tucking in with glee and regaling me with his verdict on the human food.

I feel strangely proud that I’m managing to feed and clothe him when I don’t have any money. But I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon and all that will be left is stress. We need money. We can’t get all the way to London without any. It would take a week to walk. And every moment Mabon is not home, is a moment the Resistance could capture him again.

If we had train fare, we would be in London in eight hours. If we had coach fare, it would take around fourteen hours.

So I need to steal some cash. Everyone in here is getting drunk enough that picking some pockets shouldn’t be difficult. Even though I have never picked a pocket before. But how hard can it be?

A loud round of cheering erupts around the crowd. Some people jump up and punch the air. Drinks spill. Someone falls over.

“What’s happening?” whispers Mabon. His new blue eyes are wide, but not alarmed.

“Falkirk scored a goal.”

“Is that good?” he asks.

I smile and sip my stolen beer. “In this pub, yes.”

“Oh goodie!” he beams.

My heart does a strange skip. He really can be a sweetie sometimes. Utterly impossible at other times. He certainly doesn’t make things dull, and apparently I find that endearing.

The people at the table next to us finish their exuberant celebration and sit back down. And something amazing catches my eye. The guy closest to our table has his back to me and his wallet is half out of his trouser pocket. It’s about to fall on the floor.

He and his mates are very drunk. It’s loud in here, so he will never hear it hit the floor. Once it falls, I’ll be able to bend down and scoop it up with no problem. This is the answer to all my prayers.

“I need to pee,” says Mabon.

Oh for fuck’s sake. I glare at him. He stares back at me with an innocent look. I sigh. He has been perfectly well behaved for hours.

I nod towards the back of the pub. “Follow the signs that say toilets. You’ll probably have to go up a million stairs.”

Mabon nods his understanding and stands up.

“Use the ones that say gentleman,” I tell him.

He nods again and flashes me a smile as if he is off on an exciting adventure, which I suppose is true. If you are a prince, using a public restroom in a pub probably is a huge adventure.

I watch in trepidation as he heads off, weaving through the crowd gracefully. He looks exactly like a young man in a hoodie and dark jeans. Unremarkable. If he keeps his hood up, no one is going to see how extraordinarily beautiful he is. He is going to be fine.

I snap my attention back to the wallet and try to make it fall the rest of the way out by the force of my stare.

Long moments pass. The wallet doesn’t fall and Mabon doesn’t return. My stomach starts tying itself in knots. I can’t go looking for Mabon. The moment I get up, this blasted wallet will no doubt finally drop. And there is no way this table will still be free by the time I retrieve Mabon. Someone else would have nabbed it because it is heaving in here. So even if the wallet stays put until I get back, my opportunity to steal it is going to be lost.

But what if something has happened to Mabon? What if he needs me and every minute I sit here is a minute wasted?

I’m just about to jump to my feet when Mabon slides back into his seat. I didn’t see him approach through the crowds.

Relief surges through me. He looks fine. Unharmed and in one piece. His hood is still up.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He points into the crowd. “That man asked if I had nudes.”

My heart thuds. I can’t see which man he is pointing to.

“Shit. Mabon, are you okay?”

He nods. “I didn’t know what they were. He explained it to me.”

My gaze rakes over him. His eyes are wide, blue and untroubled. His expression is calm. The experience hasn’t worried him.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

It’s not surprising that Mabon was propositioned like that. I’m assuming he pulled his hood back when he was washing his hands or something. Whatever it was, he was seen, and he is stunning. Stupidly gorgeous in a very pretty and androgynous way, and people are, well, people. Horny and depraved.

Mabon pulls a crisp fifty pound note out of his pocket and lays it on the table between us. I can feel my eyes bugging out.

“Where the hell did you get that from?”

Blue eyes stare at me innocently. “For the nudes.”

I blink at him. Several times. My brain cells continue to misfire.

“You don’t have any,” I say weakly.

Mabon shrugs. “I didn’t. He made some on his phone.”

Oh lord. Heaven help me. I groan and cover my face with my hands. I should have known that letting Mabon out of my sight was a terrible idea. Not that I could possibly have foreseen this.

“What?” says Mabon. “Money is what we needed, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” I agree with a sigh. Then I straighten up as a terrible thought hits me.

“Did he touch you?” It’s my voice, I know it is, but it sounds more like a growl. I didn’t know I could make that noise.

Mabon’s eyes grow enormous. They darken, and colour flushes his cheeks. He shakes his head while his eyes stay fixed on me, as if I’m something wondrous.

I inhale sharply through my nose, hold it, and then release it slowly.

“Are you mad at me?” Mabon whispers.

Ouch. That feels like a stab to the heart. “No!” I say quickly. “I’m mad at the sleazeball that propositioned you like that, and I'm mad at myself for letting you get in that situation.”

Mabon tilts his head. “It was fun.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. He really is too innocent for this world, and that is a deeply unsettling thought. Mabon took me prisoner. He made me his sex slave and didn’t care for my consent at all until it was pointed out to him. He threatened to mutilate me. He is a million miles from a sweet and fluffy bunny. But yet there is something so very heartbreakingly innocent about him. Especially out here in the human world.

And here I am, doing a god awful job of taking care of him. I let him out of my sight and he ended up selling himself. Okay, it was nudes, but I dread to think what would have happened if the sleazeball had asked for something else.

“Would you have been angry if I shared my body with him?” Mabon asks with a flutter of his long eyelashes.

I grimace. If he could read minds, I’d know it by now. His question is merely a coincidence. I take a sip of beer to buy myself precious seconds. A deep, dark feeling is snaking its way through my insides and I need to quash it.

“Of course not,” I force out pleasantly. “It’s your body, your choice what you do with it. It’s not like you are my boyfriend or anything.”

There is a flash of something in Mabon’s eyes before he looks sharply away. It looked like hurt. Disappointment, and a sadness as deep as the ocean. But I must be seeing things. He looked away so quickly, I couldn’t have seen anything at all.

I pick up the fifty and shove it in my pocket. It feels heavy and oily and dirty, but we need it and I’m not stupid enough to throw it away.

I grab Mabon’s hand and pull him to his feet. It is time to get out of here before anything else happens.

“Time to find a hotel,” I tell him.

“Oh goodie!” he exclaims, and he meekly allows me to tow him along behind me.

His delicate hand is soft and slightly colder than mine. It feels wonderful. Far too good.

I bite back my groan. If everything goes to plan, in a few days, I’ll be dropping Mabon off back at Buckingham Palace and never holding his hand again.

My chest tightens painfully, but I ignore it. I need to find a hotel that takes cash.