LUCIAN
Lucian realized that night that she'd been trying to tell him something and even though he had interrupted and pushed, she'd still tried to speak. Even then, though, she had only the most meager arguments.
Fear dogged his steps all night. He tried to consider all the things that could possibly go wrong. His little wife needed food more than anything else. Of course, he would have to carry more water for her as well when they were running. He'd caught her sipping from the stream while she bathed, so she must have been thirsty.
Clothing would be the most necessary though. She wasn't warm enough with fall edging away from summer and toward winter. Not with the shirt that he had brought her, and certainly not with that wedding dress.
So he'd spent his evening bartering. There were things he could do that others couldn't. His healing touch was renowned among the trolls, and if he offered those services, then he was usually able to get something in return.
Shoes that would fit her feet a little better, although they had been created on this journey. A dress that might fit her form, although it had been made for a much younger troll. A cloak that wasn't yet finished, so it was considered far too short for the owner just yet. Pieces and parts of what he
should have already had for her, and yet, he hadn't the time to prepare for a human.
It took him the better part of the night. And when he'd returned, she'd been tucked underneath his furs so deeply that he'd thought he had lost her for a few moments. Then he'd seen the small lump beneath the blankets rising and falling with her deep, even breaths.
It was enough. At least she hadn't died in her sleep. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.
Glowering at her for the rest of the night, he stared as she slept through even the loudest ruckus. His people rarely slept as much as humans, and if they did sleep, it was only for a few hours. Apparently, that was not the
same for humans. She slept through the revelry of his people and he missed it all
because... well, he was just looking at her. Only the peak of her forehead and the tip of her nose showing through his furs, and still, he was fascinated by the sight of it. So many differences. So much he did not know about this woman.
He wanted to ask her more questions than he knew how to verbalize.
What was it like growing up with her people? Did she know how to hunt, to fish, to live as she was meant to live? Probably not. She didn't hear the earth singing the way the trolls did, nor would her people be able to find the
deep mines where the crystals and gems had been birthed.
She was weak, with tender limbs that he would have to be careful were not overused.
Lucian planned all evening and into the early hours until she stirred.
Then she blinked those eyes open, forest-hued and flecked with gold, and he didn't know what to say. She'd caught him staring at her, appearing like he cared about her well-being. Somehow, that made him feel like he was something wrong.
So he stood abruptly. "We leave now."
"Now?" she asked, sitting up slowly. Her hair billowed around her head into a wild red tangle. Like flames that had been stoked ever higher by her rest. The shirt he'd given her slid off of one shoulder, revealing those dots
along her face also traveled down to her shoulders.
The peaks of her arms were red, he realized. Burned by the sun and travel just from the castle to the forest. She'd been injured already, and he'd had no idea.
Frowning, he pointed to the pile of clothing he had left her. "Those should suffice for our travels. Come, troll wife. Today, you prove to me that I am wrong about humans and that you will not be a burden for the rest of our lives." He noted the way her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. His words had made her angry. Good, they should have. She had a lot to prove. Not just to him, but to his people as well.
Lucian ducked out of the tent before he did something foolish, like help her. She could figure out how to put clothing on herself. All clothes were the same.
Tiberius waited for him on the other side. His brother had already set up breakfast over a fire, two dozen quail eggs sizzling in a pan while he heated up the dried ham they'd brought with them. Others had legs of deer on spits that they had caught this morning, and a few even had fish from the stream.
"You're grumpy this morning," his brother said with a short, coughing laugh. "I thought a newly mated man would be a little less... tense."
"Keep your mouth shut this morning."
"It's hard not to tease my brother when he insists that the woman he's mated to is not the woman he wants." Poking at the eggs, Tiberius failed to hide the grin that stretched his mouth. "I take it you did not indulge yourself in... husbandly duties?"
"If you do not stop talking, I'll turn your breakfast onto the ground."
"That would be a waste, considering it's your breakfast, too."
"Then we'll both go hungry for your stupidity," Lucian snarled. But he did not dump their breakfast into the dirt. Instead, he sank down next to the fire and stared into the flames that merrily danced along the crystals.
What was he to do? They were days away from Troll mountain.
Days where she would have to prove she could take care of herself. She had to prove that she was worthy of being a troll wife before he would bind their blood and magic.
But even he knew that was a lie. He would take her because that was what the fates said he should do. Unfortunately, he didn't understand their reasoning.
It took a long time for the flap of his tent to pull back and for the human to come outside. This pretty little fire hair who had no idea what she'd done by turning his life upside down. Then...
Tiberius lifted his hand to his mouth, but he wasn't quick enough to hide the snort that came out. His brother's shoulders then shook, and Lucian tried to convey through a very unimpressed look that no one was supposed to laugh.
The look failed. Tiberius burst out into bright, vivid laughter as his troll wife walked over
to them.
"What?" Valmira asked, her face already screwed up with concern. "What is it?"
Besides the fact that her shoes were on the wrong feet, the dress he'd gotten her was also backward and inside out. At least no one would notice the last part. Most of their clothing could be worn however it was picked
up, but they certainly would notice that the deep "v" which was supposed to be in the front was in the back for her. Odd creature. At least the cloak in her hands wasn't on. She'd probably put that on her front like a complete
fool.
"You're wearing those all wrong," he muttered, lifting his hands. "Come here, I'll set you to right."
"I'm wearing them wrong?" She looked down at herself and lifted her arms as though that would give her a better view. "What do you mean? I thought this made the most sense."
It didn't. He sighed as she strode up to him, and then was struck by how small she was. There were so many moments like this for him, but he hadn't realized that she could stand between his legs and be at eye level. She looked right into his gaze, without having to stoop to see him.
How strange. It made something in his chest flutter in a way that he wasn't sure he liked. Lucian rubbed at the feeling before grabbing the shoulders of her dress. "Arms up."
"Please don't make me get undressed with everyone looking," she whispered.
It wasn't the first time he'd wondered why she wasn't ordering him around. Especially in this. If she felt so strongly about not getting undressed before the eyes of his people, then shouldn't she be shouting at him?
Instead, she pitched her voice low, as though she didn't want anyone else to hear it.
Lucian was horrified to feel himself soften. Troll wives demanded.
They argued. They fought for everything they wanted with tusk and claw.
This little one merely asked permission. Her fear would have been endearing if he were a weaker man.
Instead, he just grabbed the shoulders of the dress and lifted it up.
"There is room for you to still be dressed, fire hair. Tuck your arms into the dress and I will spin it." "Oh." Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of bright pink. "I suppose I should have thought of that."
Valmira tucked her arms into the dress, clearly crossing them over her chest, and he turned the fabric around. It took very little effort, considering the garment was still far too big for her. One spin and then it was exactly how the dress was meant to be worn. But as he let it settle against her skin, his eyes were drawn down to the deep gap between her breasts.
A troll's shoulders were wider than humans'. Her shoulders and broad chest should have stretched the fabric, so it didn't reveal quite so much skin. But on her, the leathers dipped nearly below her breasts. Instead of just seeing a hint of that flesh, he was treated to an unhindered view of all the freckles that dusted over her collarbone, down between her breasts, and even underneath the faint shadow of the globes that were suddenly far more interesting than they should have been.
She looked like she tasted sweet, as though her skin was dusted with sugar and granules of bee pollen. His mouth shouldn't have watered at the feast laid out before him, but he was suddenly a starving man. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to draw his tongue along the shadows hinted at beneath her breasts and brand her taste to his memory.
As it was, he could not do that. He didn't want to be married to her. He didn't want a human for a troll wife, and he did not want her.
Blowing out a long breath, his gaze flicked up to hers. Her pupils were dilated, turning that bright green into black. Scared? Perhaps. He had been staring for a long time, and even Tiberius was suspiciously quiet.
"I see now why you put it on the way you did," he rasped. "Let's turn it back around."
Because he had the sneaky suspicion that if he caught anyone looking at his wife the way he had just been staring at her, he'd get into a fight. He'd rip their eyes out of their head if they saw what he did, even his own
brother. Those were sights for his gaze only.
Lucian lifted the sleeves of her dress again, this time allowing her to turn while he held the fabric still. She seemed to want to cover herself even faster than he did.
But then she was facing away from him, and the revealing fabric showed him the graceful line of her spine. He'd marveled at the muscles in her arms, but they were nothing compared to her back. Strong muscles
flexed with her movements, an impressive show of strength as the wings of her shoulder blades moved. The valleys and hollows there were almost enticing.
Now his mind was back in that tent. When he'd leaned over her, he swore he had smelled honey, spun sugar, pretty things that melted on the tongue without ever having to chew. Unbidden, Lucian leaned forward until
his nose almost touched the valley between her shoulders. And there it was again. That scent that drove him wild and made his mouth water as nothing ever had before.
His mind spun. He clenched his claws into fists, hoping that the pricks of pain would ground him, but all it did was made him want to sink his claws into something else. It was either anger or desire. That was all he
could feel in his moment and he hated her for it.
Growling low under his breath, he grabbed onto her waist and turned her again. "You've got your shoes on the wrong feet like a child. You know nothing about my people."
"Considering I've never met one of you before, I don't think that's so surprising."
Lucian wasn't expecting the fight from her. He wasn't expecting that she would call him out for what was arguably outrageous behavior on his part. He was trying to throw her away. To get her to run from him or at least go back into the tent so that he could breathe a little easier.
Instead, she called him out on what was the stupidest thing he'd said yet, and that made him like her all the more. There was a hint of fire in her after all, and not just on the top of her head.
He was frozen in shock, unsure if he should argue back or if he should just shut up. But then a snort from his brother broke through his awareness and Lucian leaned to the side to glare at the offending fool.
"What?" Tiberius said, then he shrugged. "She's right, you know. You expect her to know how to put on our clothing, but you've seen what the humans wear."
"Constricting nonsense that makes it hard for them to move," Lucian snarled.
His troll wife looked between the two of them and then eased around him. She sat on the opposite log, carefully removing her shoes and revealing tiny, delicate feet. He hadn't looked at those much last night. But he was surprised to see that there were small cuts on the bottoms of them.
Angry that he'd missed it, he pointed at those wounds and demanded,
"Where did you get those?"
"I slipped in the stream and cut my feet."
"Why did you not tell me?"
Her head lifted. Locks of that bright red hair fell in front of her features, but he could easily see her eyes widen and her mouth drop open. "I didn't think you'd care."
She didn't think he'd...
That was ridiculous. He was her husband. He was supposed to care about everything that came with her well-being and if she wouldn't even tell him when she was bleeding, then what else would she hide? He was a
healer! Everyone came to him with their wounds and the knowledge that his own wife wouldn't?
He stood abruptly and started to leave. But then he remembered she was a meek little thing and apparently needed to be ordered around. So he marched right back to the fire and pointed in her face.
"Eat," he snarled. "We have a long day ahead of us. I will not slow down for you again. Do not embarrass me before all the other trolls."
And then he stalked away before he did something else stupid. Like hold those delicate little feet in his hands and heal every single wound. Like throw sand in his brother's face and then lock tusks with him just because Tiberius got to eat breakfast with her and he didn't and he couldn't hurt his ego, so he kept walking away from both of them but especially from her.