Page 41 of Shackled to the World
“They’re unique to each tribe and each troll.” His gaze flickered toward hers, then resumed observing the sky. “We’re not born with them, nor are they spelled. It’s something in our blood. Our tattoos form at puberty, revealing and dictating our placement and standing in the tribe.”
Something about the total lack of inflection in his voice made her stomach lurch. “But?”
He glanced down at her in confusion, completely unaware that he’d given himself away. “What?”
She propped herself on her elbow. “But your tribe doesn’t think your tattoos count, do they?”
When his gaze flickered away and he shrugged, she decided she very much wanted to meet his family, just so she could give them a piece of her mind…and maybe give them a little peek into what hell would look like if they didn’t start treating him right.
She cupped his face, waiting for him to look at her. His forehead was large, his face broad, his features exaggerated, he had a ridge of horns around the top of his head, and when he was riled, his upper and lower fangs were massive, protruding slightly out of his mouth.
And she wouldn’t change anything about him.
He was a fierce warrior and defender, but he was more.
He was her friend and protector.
As he gazed up at her with his lavender eyes, she knew she couldn’t have picked a better man to watch over her while she slept. “Your tribe is full of idiots. While your tattoos are stunning, they only make up a small portion of what I like about you. I’m glad they tossed you away, or I might never have been lucky enough to meet you, and that would’ve been a shame.”
Annora gave his cheek a light pat. “I must warn you, though—if I ever meet any of them, I might take their fangs and horns and wear them as jewelry.”
He blinked at her blankly for a moment, then full-out grinned. “Oh, they’re gonna love you.”
She just grunted and, resting her head against his shoulder, snuggled down for the night with a contented sigh. Mason went rigid for only a second before he wrapped his arm around her and gave a hum of contentment.
Annora closed her eyes, then frowned, curiosity getting the best of her. “How did you guys decide who would be staying with me tonight? Rock, paper, scissors? Or did you have to resort to picking straws?”
There was a beat of silence before he spoke. “Actually, we picked by choosing who needed you most.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she was completely awake now. She opened her mouth, then silently closed it, not sure how to respond. She didn’t sense that he meant it in any physical way. No, it was more than that. She worried that by being near them, being chosen as their pack grá, she was failing them in some way, too ignorant of what the role meant to know what she should be doing.
His large hand came to rest across her back, nearly spanning her from shoulder to shoulder, pulling her out of her chaotic thoughts. “Hush and go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Instead of feeling confined, she was reassured by his touch. She closed her eyes, sleep claiming her in minutes.
When her eyes fluttered open, she was still in her room, but they were no longer alone. Logan was resting behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers brushing back and forth along her stomach, just above the waistband of her shorts.
It felt so real her heart hiccupped against her ribs, and she was afraid to close her eyes, afraid to blink and it would all vanish.
“I’ve missed this,” Logan whispered, his breath ghosting along her neck, and she shivered. She blinked away the tears burning her eyes, swearing he was so real she could actually feel him.
“How are you here?” Then her gut pitched wildly, and she swallowed hard. “You’re hurt bad, aren’t you? You’re—”
“Still alive.” His arm tightened around her, and she felt him brush his lips along her shoulder. “But I’m not sure for how much longer.”
“Just hold on for a little bit more.” She turned in his arms, studying his face. He looked like the same old Logan, but his eyes were shadowed and haunted, and dread tightened her guts.
They were running out of time.
He looked away, as if seeing something that she couldn’t, his form flickering. She reached for him, desperate to hold him to her, only to have her hand pass clear through him as if he were a figment of her imagination, and her heart broke a little.
“Logan—”
“Your uncle saw the way I healed the last time I…fell asleep.” His attention dropped back down to her. “This time, he’s making sure I don’t stay under more than ten minutes at a time before he wakes me.”
He sugar-coated everything, but she knew her uncle and his methods. He would strap her down and connect electrodes to her, shocking her every ten minutes, wanting to test how long she could go without sleep.
Wanting to see if that would make her more pliant.
