"Would you like some identifying information?" I asked.
"Yes, please."
"We are on a remote cliff that your pack has never been to before."
"Oh."
That was it.
I expectedsomereaction to this confession, since it implied that Leveret was incredibly far from home, maybe even out of reach of his family. But either he didn't care, or he was so distracted by his findings that he forgot. He kneeled to examine a flower.
I raised a brow. I felt a little offended. Was being kidnapped by me so boring that Leveret preferred playing in the dirt to indulging my great, evil plan?
Trying to lure him back to the conversation, I said, "It's remote, but accessible on foot if they follow your scent. The flying shifters could reach us sooner, although it will take them at least a few days."
"Okay."
"Until then, you're stuck with me," I warned.
"Okay."
I stared at the back of his head in utter confusion. Why didn't he care? Was it because he felt friendly with me, even after just a few hours? Or was he ignoring me because he didn't respect me?
There was nobody to blame but myself. I’d done a terrible job of being a kidnapper. Originally I hadn't wanted to frighten him, but this lack of respect was unacceptable. After all, it was healthy for mortals to have atinybit of awe and terror towards us spirits. Just a crumb of it. Was that too much to ask?
I injected a darker tone into my voice. "Listen, mortal. You'd better do as I say, and don't even bother trying to escape. You can never outrun me."
"Okay, Animus."
Frustration flared inside me. The sinister voice always worked. Why wasn't it working with Leveret?
I stormed towards him. He didn't look up when I loomed in front of him, my hair and cape billowing with fury.
If there was one thing I despised, it was being ignored.
Because being ignored meant being rejected.
My claws clenched into fists as my temper reached its limit.
"What is wrong with you?" I demanded.
Leveret glanced up with a frown. Pain flashed in his eyes.
His head blocked it before, but I saw now what he'd been looking at—a fragile white flower growing between the crags.
He wasn't willfully ignoring me. He was looking at a flower.
But it was too late. I'd already berated him.
Leveret stood up and turned his back to me, his shoulders stiff. He walked away briskly towards the edge of the cliff. His previous calm and ease were shattered.
And I was the one who’d shattered them.
A slick, oily feeling coated my insides. I put a hand to my chest, disturbed by the sensation. What was this feeling? It was horrible.
The abrupt turn in the mood between us changed the atmosphere of the landscape. A moment ago, the clouds and cliffs seemed splendidly mystical—now they were ominous and grim.
A chill crawled over me. What did I, a spirit, have to be afraid of? It made no sense.