Page 8 of Tricky Princess
EIGHT DAYS WITHOUT ELLEA
Ros’ nose twitched as Ellea’s hair tickled his face. He held her tighter. Waking up to someone was a feeling he never knew he needed. It was as though the world was where it needed to be. There was no one to hunt, nothing to avoid, and no fears, only the comfort of lying with someone whose heart beat with his. He didn’t mind her worse-than-usual morning breath, only thought of what they would do today.
Yesss, a voice hissed in his head.
His eyes popped open, and all he could see was a blurry version of Billy’s blazing amber irises and the smirk on her wide muzzle. Ros’ heart dropped as he looked down to see Garm’s large head on his chest. He groaned and rolled away. His heart continued dropping, but he pushed the anger away and reminded himself that he would get to her soon.
No! Billy protested. I was about to join you two.
“Gross, Billy.” He got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.
Their mumbling was barely audible as he splashed cold water on his face. A shower was tempting even though he’d already showered the night before with help from Sam. The shower and his rage had quickly sobered him up, but they hadn’t been able to stop the twinge of a headache behind his eyes.
Last night, Devon had quickly briefed them as Ros dried off and batted Sam away from drying his hair.
“You’ll catch a cold if you go to bed with your hair wet,” Sam had said.
Ros had ignored him and crawled into Ellea’s bed, laying his wet head on the pillow. He’d grabbed the one she usually used and hugged it to his chest.
How did Garm slide into bed without me knowing?
He shook his head and thought about what the day would bring. They would portal to where Billy said the last known entrance to the road to Hel was. It had been a few thousand years since she had been there, and no one was sure how different the area would be since life had changed vastly since then. That was the easy part. Next, they would begin the journey. Based on Billy’s calculations, it would take about five days on foot if they traveled by day and only rested at night.
Sam would be here soon with supplies from the farm—tents, food, water canteens—and Ros would pack a few weapons. They would have to try and reserve as much of their magic and strength as they could for when they crossed into his father’s kingdom. No one knew what type of battle would ensue once they got to the castle, but Ros was more concerned about what would happen on the road. Billy had said that the last leg of their trip would be the hardest. Leftover powers from the Gods would do their best to stop them from reaching the end.
Ros wasn’t sure how she’d done it by herself so many times or why she, a familiar, would go to Hel at all. Apparently, she and Garm were keeping a big secret about Billy’s past, but he would worry about that later. Right now, he just wanted to get to Ellea.
He still hated that Sam and Devon were coming along, but lucky for them, he had been a little too drunk to argue. They loved Ellea and wanted to help in any way they could, so he understood—still hated it, but he got it. In Sam’s absence, three of his betas were going to oversee the pack and town while they were gone. He’d even given a heads-up to a couple packs on the west coast that he trusted. They were going to travel closer to be on standby if something happened while they were out of reach.
Billy had visited Felix and Jadis at some point in the night and let them know some of the plan, but not all of it. She only wanted to make sure the council was aware that Glenover would be left without its strongest. Unsurprisingly, they hadn’t been concerned.
Ros ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. It quickly fell forward, and he growled, pushing it back again. He didn’t have time or patience for his hair to be uncooperative. There was enough to deal with, like tight-lipped demons and beasts encouraging a threesome. Looking to the right of the vanity, he saw one of Ellea’s hair ties. There were a few of them scattered across his cabin, and about a hundred scattered across this one. The thought of her thick hair wrapped around his hand caused such a pang in his chest. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he roughly grabbed the black band and rolled it between his fingers. It had been a few decades since he pulled his hair back regularly.
Ros placed the hair tie between his lips and teeth, careful not to tear it with his sharp canines. Gathering his hair the best he could, he grabbed the band and tied his locks up into a rough knot. One strand fell forward, and some hair still fell on the back of his neck, but it was better than nothing. A small cough came from behind him, and Ros looked into the mirror to see Sam leaning against the doorframe.
“I can cut it if you want.”
“It took three months to grow it out of that horrendous haircut you gave me last time,” Ros grumbled.
“Yea, well, I tried my best.”
Sam assessed Ros, his gaze drifting from his hair to his bare ass. It took too much strength to not turn around and throw a hairbrush at his friend’s head.
“Stop ogling me.” He felt self-conscious enough as it was, failing at every turn, drinking like he was a young demon who had just lost his mother.
“The tattoo came out good.”
“I would hope so, you picked it out.”
He had. When Ros was drunk (again) on the third or fourth night without Ellea, Sam had convinced Ros and Devon to go to a local tattoo parlor. The whole night was a blur, and the next morning, Ros had woken up with a snarling wolf on his left butt cheek. Thankfully, it was right under his waistline and his pants hid it.
“I meant the one you got while you were sober.”
Sam walked into the bathroom and gripped Ros by the shoulder. He studied the intricate design that started at the base of his neck, a crescent moon whose tips pointed and flowed like his shadows up into his hairline. Flowing from there, down his spine, was the design that matched his mother’s sword, the sister sword to his own. Each sword forged by the Gods had its own look and none were the same. They were similar, but the veins of power that ran through the chosen metal created a path on its own. He had gone back to the tattoo artist after the drunken night, and every night that came after another day of failing Ellea.
Sam slapped Ros on his bare ass, jerking him from his thoughts. He suppressed his yelp with an angry growl.
“Put your pants on. We can’t have Billy distracted.”
