Chosen One (Forever Evermore #6)(117)

“I think everyone underestimates him.” It took a cunning, strong man to continue as if nothing was wrong in life when it so obviously was.

“Possibly.” A gentle press of his lips on the top of my head, then he rested his chin back on the top of my head. “But try away.”

“You’re a demanding ass.”

“No argument there.” He dipped his head further, placing his cheek against mine, staring into the cosmos as I was, and his voice turned…hesitant, but brusque. “So, you…” he cleared his throat, warm jaw moving against mine, “…care for me? Since you spoke in the plural a moment ago.”

I stiffened…realizing what I had said too late. “Can you forget I said that?”

Warm arms continued holding me close. “That’s…a negative.” Silence became his tactic.

My cheeks flushed, and I felt my heart rate shoot off, and my feet even started squirming the barest bit between his. “A little.” My words were rushed. “But I still hate you.”

He hummed quietly, not quite frozen around me, but not exactly relaxed, either. “Well,” a harsh clearing of his throat, “it might be possible,” his jaw clenched against mine, gritting through his teeth, “you know…”

I patted his hand, my own body tense. “You don’t have to go there.”

He sighed heavily, exhaling all that pent up breath. “Thank fuck.”

A very slow blink from me as my gut churned, feeling queasy, but also, warmed with anger.

His body damn near lying on my back in relaxed relief, he inhaled…then froze utterly…to ever so gradually turn his face to mine, then bark, his expression clearly upset, “That was a fucking lie! You’ve never lied to me before!”

Of course it was. “You deserved it.” You don’t just ask a woman that, then not reciprocate in any way whatsoever, other than to stutter, then say, “Thank Fuck”, when you’re off the hook. It was the oldest language in the damn book, like, a woman smiling, and saying, Oh no, dear. It’s alright you forgot our anniversary…hell no, it’s not alright…you make it fucking right…in a damn hurry before all the loving you see for a year is by your own hand. And in our case, I wanted a damn answer, even if the truth hurt.

Seriously, who the hell doesn’t get that…other than Cain?

He grunted heavily, clearly irked. “I don’t like you lying to me.”

As if he wouldn’t know when I did, anyway. I stayed silent, plenty irked myself.

“You’re upset.”

No shit.

Another grunt. “I’m not good when it comes to this…genuine…emotional crap.”

No…shit.

A long quiet pause, then dry words. “Really, honey?”

Yeah, really. I flicked him an irritated glare from the corner of my eye, just in case my silence, and scent, wasn’t enough for his thick brain to figure out.

He inhaled heavily, eyes narrowing. His wolf huffed, sounding a half growl. He exhaled slowly, his breath rushing against my cheek. Gritted his teeth, speaking slowly between them. “Alright.” He cleared his throat, fingers digging into my hips, and I didn’t think he even realized it, because it hurt a smidge. His wolf huffed/growled again. Another heavy, gradual inhale, then hurried words. “A little.”

Um…no. Call me the greedy bastard now, but that wasn’t going to work for me.

So, I waited. Mutely, with another flicked glare.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” He jerked me to face him, then loomed over me, rising to his full height, spreading his arms wide, voice gravelly. “That’s all you said!”

Actually, it wasn’t, since he had caught me saying “those I care for”, so I crossed my arms, the tiny scowl I wore not disappearing in the face of his angered frustration.

He growled low in his throat, the sound all man as he glared. “Fine.” He crossed his arms, our posturing much the same, his own glare in place. “I care. For you.” His eyes narrowed even further. “A little.” His wolf growled softly. “Good enough for you, my goddamn spirit bitch?”

That, had most definitely not been an endearment this time, but I nodded once. “Yes.” I continued scowling. “I actually suck at this shit, too, since I care for a rare few, but I at least own up to it without having to be prodded.” I “prodded” away at his chest with a pointed finger, still plenty irked. “Don’t ask that crap in the future if you can’t handle reciprocating, even if it is to say you don’t feel the same.” More. Poking. “I. Will. Always. Want. An. Answer.”

He swatted my hand away like I was a pesky fly, his wolf growling quietly. “I think I’ve got it.” A flicked finger between us. “You care. I care.” He crossed his arms again, shrugging a few times like he was brushing something off. He even cracked his neck. Twice. “Only a little.”

One decisive nod. “Only a little.” I flicked a stiff finger at my lips. “I want a kiss now.” I crossed my arms again.

He growled, but bent woodenly, eye level with me, voicing gruffly, “You’re like a damn splinter under my fingernail that no amount of digging will remove.”

“And you’re like the damn dandelions in my old garden, pretty, but still a weed that no amount of plucking will ever eliminate.”