Page 19 of The Bull's Beauty
I reach down, dipping my fingers into the stream to clean them. The silence between us feels heavy.
“Why?” she whispers, her voice raspy. “Why did you come for me? Why would you risk… everything…for me?”
I meet her gaze, holding it. “I told you. Because I love you.”
“But, Havenmoor…” she whispers, her tear-bright eyes lifting to meet mine.
“It’s your choice,” I finish for her. I sit back on my heels, giving her space. “The path is still there. If you want to go home, I will take you. I will ensure you get there safely.” The words cost me everything, but I mean them. “Or you can come back to the stronghold. The choice is yours, Beatrice. And I will follow your lead.”
She stares at me, her lips parted, her breath coming in soft little pants. The war is back in her eyes, but it’s a new war. Not between hate and fear, but between the ghost of a past life and the terrifying, tempting promise of a future she never imagined.
She doesn’t answer and it seems like for the first time, she’s truly considering it.
Chapter Fourteen
Beatrice
Cassia is the first to return. Her face is a thundercloud as she storms down the ridge, shoving branches aside with a violence that speaks volumes. A moment later, Ulric appears, trailing after her like a scolded, lost puppy, his ears flattened and his tail drooping. Whatever conversation they’d had up there had clearly not gone his way.
Silas is a statue of vigilance, his dark eyes constantly scanning our surroundings, and I’m slumped against the moss-covered rock, my entire body aching. Without a word, I tug at the laces of my worn boots, groaning in relief as I pull them off. The cool air on my sweaty, aching feet is pure bliss. I wiggle my toes, the simple motion feeling strangely grounding after everything.
Ulric, whose focus has shifted from his failed attempt with Cassia, stops his pacing and stares down at my feet. Cassia ignores everyone, stomping a few yards away to refill a waterskin, her rigid back turned to us.
“So…not to be rude, but if you’re, like, a cow-girl or whatever,” Ulric begins, his head tilted, clearly seeking a new target for his frustration.
“Call me that again and I’ll neuter you with a butter knife,” I cut him off without looking up.
“I’m just saying,” he muses, lifting a brow, his gaze flicking pointedly to my very human toes. “Just seems inconsistent. You’ve got the…the milk thing. The ears. The scent. But then,bam, feets. Shouldn’t you be, like, cloven?”
I don’t even pause while adjusting the strap on my boot. “Oh wow. The dog knows what ‘cloven’ means. Did you learn that before or after you pissed on the rug?”
Ulric’s smirk doesn’t falter, flashing too-sharp canines at me. “Just pointing out the hypocrisy,Cow-girl.”
“And you,” I cut in, “have the emotional intelligence of a flea-bitten stray who licks his own balls. Congrats.” I wiggle my toes again mockingly. “Problem with my feet? Maybe focus on your paw situation, Fido.”
He rolls his shoulders, tail twitching. “At least my ‘paws’ are functional.”
“Enough.” Silas’s voice is a low rumble, “Stop bickering.”
Then, softer, almost to himself, he adds, “She’s got perfect little feet.”
My face goes hot so quickly, I swear I can feel the tips of my ears burning. I glance up at him. His eyes are focused straight ahead, all business as usual, but the corner of his mouth twitches just a little and I hate how much that stupid, subtle little smile makes my heart kick hard against my ribs.
Ulric makes a sound like he was about to say something else, but Cassia shoves past him with a glare to sit beside me.
“And she could still kick your ass barefoot,” she said. “So, maybe shut up.”
Ulric mutters something under his breath, his ears flicking back in a sulk. Good.
The momentary victory is short-lived, however, when Ulric turns his attention back to Cassia, his playful taunting replaced by desperation. “Cassia. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” she says, not even looking at him as she tightens the cap on her waterskin.
“You can’t just run from this,” he insists, stepping toward her. “The scent…it’s everywhere on you. You’re mine.”
Cassia whirls on him, her coppery hair flying. “I am not your property! I wasalreadyrunning from one alpha-hole who thought he owned me, and I am not about to trade him for a mangy, lone wolf who follows his nose instead of his brain!”
“It’s not about ownership!” Ulric’s voice rose, a growl edging into it. “It’s a bond! It’s fate!”
