“She doesn’t really talk,”
the oldest says.
“We call her Bun.”
Bun collapses onto her padded bottom right next to me, examining her prize with intense concentration.
“And you are?”
I direct this question to the teenager.
“Ron.”
He gestures at the other two.
“That’s Jer and Sara.”
“I’m Grace,”
I offer, though nobody asked.
“We know,”
Sara says, as if I’m an idiot.
“You’re the Lycan Queen.”
I blink.
“Uh-no, I’m… not?”
I think. Wait, am I?
Sara blinks.
“Why did he bring me here?”
I change the subject, pointing to my kidnapper.
“Owen brings people here when things get dangerous,”
Jer explains, wiping the back of his hand over his strawberry-covered chin.
“You were in danger, so he brought you too.”
“The hospital isn’t safe,”
Sara agrees.
“The blood witch will get you.”
I take a tentative bite of my tanghulu. The sugar shatters between my teeth, sweet and crisp before giving way to the tartness of the strawberry beneath.
The man might have a sour face, but he makes great candy.
“What’s a blood witch?”
The children exchange more meaningful glances. Clearly, they know something I don’t.
“The hungry kind,”
Jer finally says.
“The kind that eats you from inside.”
Bun makes a chomping sound and giggles, oblivious to the ominous nature of Jer’s words. She’s already demolished her strawberries and eyes my remaining stick with naked desire.
I hold it out to her almost automatically.
“Here.”
Owen’s head snaps up from his fruit-dipping.
“Don’t spoil her,”
he growls, the first words I’ve heard him speak since waking up. His voice is as rough and scary as I remember.
Too late. Bun’s already snatched her treat, cradling it against her chest like treasure.
“Sorry,”
I mutter, not feeling sorry at all.
He grunts again. I guess that’s his usual method of communication.
“Am I in danger here?”
He stares at me.
“I said, we won’t hurt you.”
Does he really expect me to believe him…? Judging by his impassive face, yes. Yes, he does.
“Oh.”
Bun plops herself in my lap without invitation, sticky fingers clutching her tanghulu in one hand while the other pats my arm in what feels like reassurance. It’s clear she no longer thinks I’m going to eat her.
“Why are you all here?”
I ask.
“Same as you,”
Ron says with a shrug.
“We’re special. Need protection.”
“Special how?”
“Different ways,”
he replies evasively.
“But the Great One would take us if we weren’t hidden.”
The Great One. Sounds kind of lame, but by the way the other kids shiver, I should be afraid.
“Who’s the Great One?”
“She eats people,”
Sara says.
“Sucks ’em dry ’til they’re a husk. Like a vampire.”
“Almost done, Bun.”
I rub a threadbare towel over her damp curls, careful not to tug. She giggles and stomps.
So. Freaking. Cute.
A pipe juts from the cave wall, spouting fresh water. Its source? No clue-maybe a spring somewhere. Whoever built this place balanced primitive with practical.
Her bath took place in a large brown basin-smaller than a kiddie pool, bigger than any basin I’ve ever seen. The water’s gone gray-pink from scrubbing off the strawberry massacre. The juices had run straight through her outfit.
Since the toddler seems intent on spending as much time as possible in my lap, having long ago realized I’m not a hungry dragon out to eat her, I asked Owen if she needed a bath. The man apparently thought it meant I wanted to give her a bath.
I didn’t, but it isn’t like anyone else offered, and now here I am-no relevant childcare experience, bathing a strange toddler in a cave after being pseudo (?) kidnapped.
I’m sure stranger things have happened in this world, but I can’t really imagine it.
Bun squirms and I pull the towel off, blinking at the actual, real life, honest-to-goodness fluffy white bunny ears popping out of her head.
They weren’t there just minutes before.
Shifter, then. Bunny shifter?
She looks shy, twisting her tiny little ham fists together in front of her as she peeks up. Is she old enough to worry about my response to her ears? My heart breaks a little at the thought.
“Hold still, sweetie.”
The endearment slips out naturally, and her giant, dark eyes glimmer with trust as I pat the last of the droplets from her chubby legs.
Behind us, Jer and Sara are using wet rags to clean up the sticky strawberry disaster while Ron supervises them with crossed arms. Must be the benefit of being the oldest, not having to do the actual work.
The kids are grumbling.
“Why did we have to clean it?”
Jer hisses.
“She made the mess.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.