July 2044 - On a road leading out of the Neutral Zone
“Sulking won’t help.”
“I’m not sulking.” Charlotte pulled her legs in close to her chest and leaned her temple against the cool glass of the passenger side window. She would have liked to relish her freedom, but a thorny knot of disappointment and frustration took up all the space in her chest where relief could have grown.
It took root there the previous evening after another long phone call with her parents that ended with more than a few tears of frustration. It bloomed in full during the night, when she slept on the motel bed — so luxurious, yet so foreign after a year in captivity — and Dom silently took the floor, his steady breathing overly loud in the quiet. It only got worse as her first day of freedom wore on.
Before setting out from United Washington proper, they stopped at a small department store to get her something other than her slinky silver jumpsuit to wear. Luckily her implanted ID still worked just fine, so she didn’t need to rely on Dom to take care of her any more than strictly necessary — even if he did bristle a little when she insisted on paying for her small bundle of necessities and their quick, greasy breakfast at the diner next to the store.
But she wasn’t yet comfortable with the whole “mates take care of each other” spiel he tried to give her, so she ignored him. And continued to do so.
Dom was quiet for a while as they sped away from UW toward the border of the New Zone, the engine of his huge truck rumbling like the chest of a dragon. But for someone who claimed to like quiet and solitude as much as he did, Dom couldn’t seem to hold his tongue for long.
“Your mother was right,” he insisted, filling up the cabin with the low, bone-rattling rumble of his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with waiting a few more weeks until the travel ban lifts to go home. We’ll spend some time at my cabin, and when the political situation cools down, I’ll take you to them. Or they can come to us.”
“A few more weeks?” Charlotte curled her nails into the outer seams of her new jeans. She staunchly refused to look at him. “I lost a year of my life to that damn jar. Don’t you tell me that a few weeks is nothing to be upset about, demon.”
“I’m not saying there’s nothing to be upset about.” Dom’s shadow rippled around her ankle. It tightened and loosened in a pulsing wave, as if it sought to soothe her even when its demon host wouldn’t or didn’t know how to. “I know a year is a long time. I only fought in the Great War for a year, and it made me the man I am today — good and bad. I get that time is precious, believe me.”
Charlotte finally turned her head to peer at him from under the hood of her baby pink sweatshirt. Dom drove confidently, with one huge hand on the steering wheel and his other arm draped over the center console, his fingers loosely curled by the cup holder. He was handsome in profile, but in the way that all wild things had a beauty to their harshness.
His brows were heavy. His nose was a hard edge sticking out from between high, rounded cheekbones. His lips were surprisingly soft-looking when he wasn’t scowling, but that happened so rarely, she had little time to appreciate them. His antlers were large, creating a sort of crown around the sides of his head, his ears were gently pointed and covered in soft, velvety fur. Pair all of that with his blunted fangs and his huge build, and Dom was a visual force to be reckoned with.
Just the sight of him made her wings buzz louder, but Charlotte was grateful that the demon had decided to politely ignore her song after she made it clear it embarrassed her. Not that Charlotte thought he’d drop it forever, though. She got the feeling that her demon was a patient sort of man. No doubt he would end up demanding answers soon enough.
And what will I say? ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s just my mating song. Does it do anything for you? Because I’m horny as all get out.’ Charlotte cringed just thinking about it. She shifted in her seat, trying to alleviate the small but growing ache between her legs.
“What I meant was that a few weeks resting in my cabin won’t feel like a year of captivity. It’ll give you time to relax and get your head on straight before you see them again,” he continued, oblivious to the humiliating thoughts circling her mind like love-drunk, horny cicadas. “Besides, it’ll give your parents peace of mind. They were relieved when I said I’d take care of you until the ban lifts, right?”
Charlotte grunted. “Yes, because my parents are incredibly romantic, open-minded arrant hippies who think mating means instant, undying love and devotion.”
An hour post-breakfast phone call with her parents and she was still bitter that they’d taken to Dom, a demon they didn’t know, so quickly. One would think that having their daughter kidnapped and held prisoner for a year would make them more wary of strangers, not less, but they were trusting to a fault even still.
There were, of course, worse flaws to have. And even though it smarted that they didn’t agree with her half-cocked plan to smuggle herself into the EVP, she also didn’t believe Dom meant her any harm.
Knowing that the only way forward involved sucking up her frustration, Charlotte sighed and decided a subject change was in order. Wiggling around in her seat until her back was to the door and her bare toes were pressed against the edge of the console, Charlotte gave his arm a small nudge with her heel. “So how old are you, anyway? I mean, if you fought in the War.”
Dom didn’t take his eyes off the road as he covered the tops of both of her feet with one hand. His palm was deliciously warm and rough. He told me he works in forestry, she recalled, both surprised and a little worried by the way that simple, platonic touch made her skin heat up. I wonder if that’s why his hands are so callused.
She’d never had much of a preference for rough, I-work-with-my-hands-and-drive-ten-foot-high-trucks men before, but she was starting to see the appeal.
“Does it matter?” His usual scowl deepened. Grip tightening on her feet, he gruffly added, “Your feet are cold. You should put your shoes and socks back on.”
“I got used to not wearing shoes,” she explained. Charlotte wiggled her toes. “And don’t dodge the question.”
Sighing, her demon began to slowly rub the delicate bones of the tops of her feet when he answered, “I fought in the war when I was eighteen.”
She tried to run the math in her head, but Charlotte had never been very good with numbers. “So you’re… what? Two hundred?”
Dom shot her a withering glare out of the corner of his eye. “I’m one hundred and forty-six, glowbug.”
Charlotte sputtered. “Don’t call me glowbug!”
“Why not? You glow and you’ve got those pretty wings.” He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “It fits.” Dom paused long enough to grip her feet with a little more force. A warning rumble shook the air and made a home for itself in her bones. “Don’t kick me while I’m driving, glowbug. I can feel you about to try.”
She lifted her upper lip to show him her fangs, small and pin-sharp as they were. “The kids who bullied me in middle school used to call me that.” Although it wasn’t the worst nickname they gave her, it still carried a weight to it that bothered her.
“All the more reason to take it back and make it your own, don’t you think?” Apparently no longer worried she was going to aim for his antlers this time, Dom let go of her foot to cover her knee with his palm. He shot her an intense look from under the shadow of his drawn brows. “I’ll stop if it really upsets you, Charlotte, but I like the name.”