Midnight End

14

Had Ronan changed so drastically in the years we were apart? Had he misinterpreted my instructions or intentionally twisted my words? Would he have seen my actions as purely driven by vengeance and extrapolated my intent based on pain from his own past? What had gone on while I was busy recruiting the Unseelie? I hadn’t known Knight long, but he didn’t seem the sort to make up such egregious allegations. The possible implications sent dread trickling down my spine like the first drops of a rainstorm crawling down a windowpane. I dropped my eyes as my stomach churned with uncertainty. “I didn’t know,” I offered weakly. Knight released a long sigh before turning around and resuming our walk, this time, maintaining a more reasonable pace. I kept stride with him, but neither of us spoke for long minutes. It was no wonder they all hated me if they believed I’d sent a monster into their midst. It pained me to think of Ronan in that way. I had thought of him as my own. No mother wanted to hear their child grew up to become a sociopath. And of course, it was just another nail in the coffin of my mutilated corpse of a reputation. Morgan raised a psycho—she must be crazy too. The realization made me wonder at the fact Knight had agreed to be near me at all, let alone voluntarily embark on an adventure with me. What did that say about him? Any number of assumptions came to mind—maybe he was that angelic sort who believed they could save everyone around them. Maybe he had a darker side to him than his friends knew about. Maybe he was desperate for his memories. Or maybe he was just bored. No one knew what my motivations were—I wasn’t about to guess at his. Eventually, we entered a thicker part of the woods where the undergrowth was dense and vines hung heavily, crisscrossing our path. Some we were able to go around or under, others needed to be severed to clear a trail. Knight led the way, attempting to yank down vines and push past thick vegetation. I pulled out the butcher knife I had absconded from the house and offered it to him. “Here, since you didn’t deign it necessary to come prepared.” He took the knife into his wide grip. “Jesus, what else are you hiding in there? Should I be afraid to go to sleep tonight?” I attempted to squash my ever-widening smile as I spoke. “I suggested you bring supplies.” How he managed to make me smile when I was annoyed with him, I would never know. It was his super power—like he was Captain Chill, capable of lulling angry mobs into a false sense of serenity. “Supplies are one thing; I’m worried you have an armory.” He hacked at several vines blocking our path. “I suppose I can admit that the transition back to being Fae seems like it might be more difficult than I initially suspected. I’m used to fending for myself and not relying on anyone or anything—I haven’t had a home or any belongings in centuries. It’s challenging to break the mindset.” He stretched up to grasp one of the vines, and his shirt lifted to reveal an inch of skin on his lower back. I had never considered it a particularly erotic part of the body, but at that moment, that sliver of skin sucked every thought from my head. My eyes leisurely roved up his sculpted back, over his bulging shoulders, and along the chorded muscle of his raised arms. He had those thick forearms that made a girl think about how easily a man might be able to hold her against a wall as he pounded into her. I may not have been thrilled about having a companion, but as companions went, he was definitely easy on the eyes. Once I drank in my fill of his luscious body, I wracked my brain for what he had been saying before I got distracted. Ah yes, difficult transition, not a dog anymore. “It’s a long time to live as another species,” I agreed. “You said you can’t remember anything from your life before?” “Nope. Nothing.” He accented the words with swipes of the knife across dangling vines. “What about your time … with the Red Caps?” My words hitched with uncertainty. He had been relatively open about discussing his past, but I understood some things were more sensitive than others. “Lucky me, that’s all clear as day.” “Did they turn you into a wolf?” “I think it had been done before I fell into their hands, but since I don’t remember that time period, I can’t say for sure.” “So, you don’t remember who turned you?” “No.” “Do you know how long you were captive?” “I think around two years—it wasn’t always easy to judge,” he murmured. “I’m surprised they kept you alive that long. Red Caps aren’t exactly known for being merciful.” “If they had killed me, they would have lost their primary source of entertainment.” He gave a sardonic laugh, void of any humor. “It was much more amusing to make me suffer.” The multitude of silver lines decorating Knight’s body came to mind. “Your scars.” I had figured the scars were likely a result of his stay with the Red Caps but hadn’t been certain. We lived in a twisted world where anything was possible. Being mutilated in a separate incident outside the Red Caps would have been unfortunate but not entirely impossible. “That was just a fraction of what was done to me—only those rare occurrences when they wanted to make certain I didn’t heal.” As he spoke, he violently ripped at a branch of leaves. While I found his physique attractive, knowing what he had survived was even more alluring. I would never have admitted it to him, but those scars were more appealing to me than any bulging bicep or chiseled jawline. Plus, his personality wasn’t totally off-putting—when he wasn’t being a d**k. I considered how miraculous it was he functioned at all. Torture that severe, even over a short period of time, could damage the mind irreparably. Two years of suffering? It would have been understandable if he flinched every time anyone moved and spent his days rocking in a corner. My mind conjured images of my mother. She had endured intense psychological torture for years. Merlin claimed she never recovered, but what did that mean? Had the emotional turmoil changed her physically? Would I even recognize her? Did she rave like a homeless person on a city street, or did she stare off into the distance with drool coming out the corner of her mouth? I understood she wasn’t the same woman who raised me, but not knowing what had come of her was almost worse than thinking she had died. Knight was definitely one of the lucky ones. “How did Merlin get you out?” I asked after a while.