Page 74 of A Song of Air
She hated how it made her feel afterwards.
Like she was hurting Ev all over again. Like she was somehow being disloyal by remembering the savage touch of Weylyn’s hands and body and the dark promises he whispered in her ears.
She didn’t want him to claim her. She didn’t want to belong to the mysterious, golden Fae. But every time she remembered those words, something stirred inside her. Like Mana was awakening, demanding she give in.
She would listen to Mana on everything but this.
Bryson had managed to avoid Ev as much as she possibly could. She chose to busy herself, asking Arlo for task after task to keep her mind occupied on things other than Weylyn.
She had to tell Ev.
Bryson knew she had to tell him what had happened. But anytime she tried to form the words, they caught in her throat and she ran away. Especially when he looked at her so lovingly. Especially when he displayed her claw marks so proudly, with the buttons of his shirt open to reveal the evidence of what they’d done. Of what she’d done to him.
It only made her stomach churn.
When Bryson finished her chores for the day, cleaning and mucking out the horse stalls, she wandered through camp. Part of her avoidance of Weylyn had also extended to the Resistance. In fact, Bryson had barely spoken to them outside of their first meeting.
Even the Elementals, for all the curiosity Bryson possessed of the three Fae women, hadn’t indulged in any type of conversation. Though by this point, Bryson could recognize them by scent alone. By the way they walked, and by the sounds of their voices. If by nothing else, at least she knew them that way.
Shula Azzarh, the fire Fae, always smelled like a mix of confections and embers, with the subtle hints of medicinal herbs that clung to her skin and clothes, courtesy of her mate. He was a scarred Fae named Ryker, and whenever she saw flashes of his face, Bryson didn’t feel so alone with her own scars.
Iona Wilde, Malika’s sister, was the more... conspicuous... of the Fae Elementals. Her scent wasn’t as sharp as Shula’s, but her demeanor was more boisterous, as was her mate’s, the giant ginger named Julius. They trained together almost every day, the sounds of their fighting and passion loud enough to echo through the trees.
Corvina, the water Elemental, was more subtle in everything she did. She didn’t train with the others. She sat back with a group of humans and Fae that had come with their party, tending to her son and watching the others with quiet determination.
The Elementals all flocked to each other, too. And Malika trailed after her sister as well. It made a strange sense of loneliness spread through Bryson’s chest.
Never before had she felt so alone.
Her own group of friends were sparring lightly near the Resistance. Bryson closed in to watch, if only because Everette wasn’t there at all.
Weylyn was, though she forced herself to ignore him in favor of watching the swords clang together in percussive, fake violence.
“Basil, be careful!”
Bryson’s attention turned to the water Fae. Her blonde locks were in disarray over her shoulders, the golden strands shielding her face. She’d spoken to her son, who was running around near where they were sparring.
“Mommy, look at me!” Basil jumped over a particularly high rock and as he landed on the other side of it, his feet skidded along the ground, causing him to trip. He let out a cry as he neared the area where they were fighting and fell in between the fray.
Bryson winced.
Basil pushed himself to a stand, and as he did, he was shoved back by a very adult forearm.
“Watch what you’re doing, kid.”
The force of the shove sent Basil sprawling to the ground once again. Only this time, instead of getting back up, the tears came, and he began to bawl.
Everything after that happened so fast.
Bryson’s legs carried her in that direction, but Weylyn got there first, putting his lithe body in between Basil and Otis. Corvina arrived only seconds after Weylyn, pulling Basil to a stand.
Within moments, it appeared to be a battlefield. The Resistance on one side, the rebels on the other. And Bryson stood in the middle, between Otis and Weylyn. Her glare faced her friend.
“Why the fuck would you do that?” she demanded.
“He’s in the way, and this is no place for children to be playing.”
“You didn’t have to shove him, Otis.”
