Page 50 of Ensnared
“The blessed don’t have emotions in the way you humans do.”
I’m not sure I really believe that, at least, not as a blanket statement. They may not have always had the same range of emotions, and they may not understand them. But I’ve seen him laugh, smirk, scowl, and regret, at the very least.
“We desire things. We know anger and hatred. We also yearn to possess. But I’ve read about the range of emotions humans feel, and. . .” He snorts.
“Sorrow?” I turn to face him, my face pressed against the grass.
“Nope. Nor hope, joy, or fear, at least, not in the sense that you feel it. That may be why I find you so refreshing. Most humans quiver and cry and beg. You didn’t do any of that. You reacted much more like an earth blessed would.”
“By stabbing you?”
“Exactly.” He props himself up on one elbow. “My rivals watch me. They know when it’s been a while, like now, and that makes them even more attentive. When I decompress, you’ll be at the highest risk of dealing with a strike blessed or water blessed attack.”
“Surely Azar would punish them.”
“It wouldn’t be official.”
“A small force at least,” I say. “Got it.”
“Liz.” His tone carries a warning. “Literally any blessed could kill you, so it’s not like I expect you to defend me.”
“Gee,” I say. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“It’s the truth.” His eyes are as serious as I’ve seen them.
I rise to my knees and twist sideways to grab his discarded shirt, leaning over him, but careful not to touch him in any way. I’m planning to throw it in his face and tell him to go already.
Before I can fully straighten, he says, “What’re you doing?” Because of the way he turns toward me, his shoulder bumps my side, and I collapse on top of him. Our faces are suddenly less than two inches apart, and my body’s pressed against his from my toes almost to my nose. All those abdominal muscles, I can feel them. The muscles of his arms bunch as they wrap around me.
“Elizabeth.” His breath on my face reminds me of the moment he activated my visor. That makes me think about how deeply we’re connected. No matter what I do, I can feel him. He can feel me, too.
I swallow slowly, my eyes dropping to meet his. My heart’s hammering, and my entire body feels like one long run of raw nerves. What’s wrong with me? Why am I acting like this?
Is this Stockholm Syndrome?
“Are you injured?” Axel’s voice breaks the spell that fell over me. “Why are you still lying here?”
I scramble off him quickly, working doggedly to blank my mind. The last thing I need is to send him some kind of stupid, inadvertent message. His cluelessness about human minds has been my salvation. I really mustn’t be so horribly obvious that he figures it out in spite of that. “I’m fine. Go do your little thing. Right now. Don’t wait.” I turn away so he doesn’t see the color rise in my cheeks.
“I don’t understand?—”
“Just go,” I say.
Luckily, after a moment of indecision, he listens, retreating to the house. I almost follow him inside. I mean, on top of promising to stay out of trouble while he did his little nap, I also just dismissed my fifty worker-humans less than an hour after they arrived. I feel like standing around outside like a dope after essentially shirking my first official ensnared task is probably not copacetic, but I’m not walking inside until I’m positive that he’s not going to see me.
So instead, I pace in front of the house, until Fluff Dog sees me and starts freaking out.
It takes about two minutes. When I do finally go inside, Sammy’s holding a jump rope around Jade’s waist, clicking, and saying “Heyah, heyah!”
“Do I want to know?” I ask Coral.
“She’s his horse.” She shrugs. “It keeps him busy since we’re still stuck staying inside.”
I may never really understand the six-year-old brain, but Coral’s right. He’s staying inside like I asked. Jade’s foot kicks the edge of the coffee table as they pass, and it hits a stupid decorative bowl, which topples over, spraying weird glass bead things all over the floor.
I groan, but the kids didn’t even notice, so I shuffle over to pick them up myself.
“Why don’t you guys head upstairs,” I say. “Axel’s doing something in his room, and he shouldn’t be disturbed.”
