39. Banter

Edom did not take kindly to Taos dropping a severed wolf’s ear in his open palm. He curled his lip at Sona before his Alpha said, “You should be impressed with your future queen, Edom.”
“The healer spilled plenty of blood, yes,” the Gamma said through gritted teeth, “but just wait until Grayhide acts out.”
Taos shrugged. “Come what may.”
Edom narrowed his eyes as he followed Taos back toward Redtown. “You’re planning something for his ceremony.”
“But it’s a perfect time to fuck up his shit!”
“Don’t do anything,” Sona protested weakly, lifting her face to his, “it only gives him reason to fuck up our—”
He quirked a smile. Despite its mischief and the callousness in his voice, concern still tightened his expression. “Our what?”
Sona had just enough energy to scowl. “Our *wedding*. Happy? I admitted it.”
“Put to rest that I now know I have reason to fear you, little wolf. Magnificent.”
She was rendered speechless by his raw earnestness. Why in whatever hell existed would Taos Redbone of the most ruthless werewolf pack in existence, the son of an Alpha who committed genocide of another pack, who let his own packmates live in squaller, who marred his skin with ash and scars, and wore death around his neck…think an Omega Goldwater was anything but ordinary?
“Why?” she whispered.
“Why you are magnificent or why *I* think you are?”
“Both.”
“Because you just bit an angry Alpha’s *ear* off—Alpha-*type*, I rectify. Red is the color of triumph, trinket. It looks good on you. Makes your eyes even bluer.”
Childishly, Sona closed them. “I broke my oath.”
“It’s ‘do no harm,’ right?”
“Yes,” she said hesitantly, sending he had a point to make.
“As far as I’m concerned, and I believe my opinion to be highly valuable, ‘harm’ is death. Murder. You didn’t kill Grayhide, did you, trinket?”
Sona cracked open an eye. Taos’ gaze was focused ahead; his skin was painted lovely dawn hues. “No…”
“You harm wolves every time you heal one. Make them hiss when you pull out a thorn. Make them curse when you set a bone. Make them push spawn out of their—”
“Okay, I get it,” she hurried to say. Moon goddess knew which term he was about to use.
“So I’m right.”
She chewed on his words…and realized she had no reserve of irritation toward him. A week ago, she would snap back at his arrogance. Now…she wasn’t afraid to say he *was* right. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
“Oh, it far too swelled already, dear.”
She wheezed a small laugh, which prompted him to add, “This past week wouldn’t have been boring if it wasn’t. Ah, back home. I’d say let’s take you to the healer, but…who heals the healer?”
Her faint smile faded and she closed her eyes. “Healers aren’t supposed to get hurt.”
“Shit happens, trinket.”
Sona must have passed out, because the next thing she knew, there was a soft bed below her and a wood roof high above her. She heard a crackling fire, its light dancing on the ceiling. She honed into her body first—not on the fact that this was the third time in a month that she’d woken up injured in a strange place —to assess any injuries that hadn’t healed. After a few flexes of limbs and digits and a twist of her spine to check her ribs, she found all was well.
To her bones at least. Her hand flew to her cheek—her heart clenched, it wasn’t as smooth as it should be. Though they felt faded, three ridged marks were grooved from her left ear to the bridge of her nose, one of them nicking her top lip.
“They’ll heal.”
Sona whipped her head to the side to find Taos striding toward her. He eased into the chair at the bedside and rested his elbows on his thighs, whose muscles strained the fabric of his pants. His arms were equally large, bared by the odd sleeveless shirt. Most of his bone adornments were nowhere to be seen; their lack made him seem…incomplete.
“I only set you down a minute or two ago,” he said, taking her wrist gently and moving it back to rest at her side atop the fur cloak. “They were damn deep.”
“I’m a hypocrite, aren’t I?” she sighed.
Taos’ eyes glinted. “What fun would we have if we agreed on everything?”
“You call this past week *fun*?”
“Yes. *I* have had fun bantering you.”
Sona gave him a bland look. “I can bite *your* ear off.”
“See! Banter! It really gets my blood flowing.”
She absolutely hated herself when she glanced at his crotch—deciding the ceiling was quite enjoyable to inspect. Taos’ laugh made her fight a blush. “If you think that’s flattering, think again.”
“What *is* flattering, Sona?” he asked quietly, Sona sensing him lean closer toward her. He still smelled like honey, fur, and meat. “How can I make your heart full after Grayhide broke it?”
She refrained from telling him the truth she’d already come to: *I put my own heart back together, its cracks sealed by the knowledge that my son and grandfather are safe*. Instead, she turned toward him, his face once again inches away, and said just as quietly, “Getting me clothes.”
As if waiting for this exact moment, Taos produced a handful of clothes from behind his chair with a triumphant, “Done! What else?”
“Privacy.”
“Granted. Next? Go on, give me a list.”
Keeping the fur tight, Sona managed to sit up, finally unable to hide the coy smile. “You seem far too willing to cater to my needs.”
Everything about him was male arrogance. “Any needs…any wants. My home is yours, Mistress Mai. I said you deserve everything. Let me prove it.”
“I don’t plan on abusing that…gift.”
“Please do.”
Arrogance…and playfulness. When she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the cloak did not follow, covering most of her lap, but leaving her lower thighs to feet exposed. Her toes curled. “Don’t tell me you’re turned on by—”
“Your legs and feet specifically, no,” Taos purred, running his tongue over his white teeth. “Your whole body…yes.”
“Shameless bastard.”
“I pretend to be nothing less than I am, trinket.”
“Then I won’t hold back either. May I have a meal, a bath, and a few herbs from the shop—in the opposite order.”
Taos stood and offered his hand for her to take. “Anything you ask for, Sona.”