Spare Princess

Whatever

Geneva

I am some good distance away, finally, when I realize that man might have been right. This is the Lycans’ territory which I am crossing alone, at night. Even without the damn shadow on my tail, it’s not the best idea to piss off dear old sister Veronica, who happens to be the new Lycan alpha in town. Ian’s land is safe, it belongs to the witch whose blood was used to create me, but outside of it? I am as good as any other prey. Not that I would rely on someone like Demir Aslan to protect me, but still…

I have no idea how long I have walked alone in the darkness when I hear the roar of an engine, a car going to slow down on the road behind me. Instead of giving him the satisfaction to acknowledge his presence again, I storm off away from it but the bastard just catches up on me with his SUV. I hate how stupid this entire situation is and I definitely hate the fact that I do feel like an insolent kid who deserves a scold.

“Get in the f*ucking car,” the man shouts at me.

He’s pissed, alright. Good.

“Just leave me alone, god!” I roll my eyes, my own patience growing thin. This is stupid. God, this is so damn stupid.

“My name is Demir, not god,” he has the audacity to shout at me. “And I am not leaving. That’s not how this works.”

“Suit yourself,” I shrug, my face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Did he just f*ucking call himself a god?

I don’t get into his car. I walk the remaining mile and a half to Redwind and then head towards the cheap motel I checked in when I arrived this morning. Demir Aslan and his fancy SUV followed me from a safe distance. He didn’t try to communicate with me anymore, didn’t even grunt and huff at me, just followed like doom itself.

By the time I reach the hotel foyer, I am already regretting all my life choices and wondering why the hell I refused the damn ride downtown. Then I remember the way he treated me today, how he f*ucking spit on me and never apologized for it. God, just thinking about it and I want to send another electric bolt after him.

While he’s searching for a parking spot, I slip inside the lobby and tip the receptionist to not tell him the number of my room. And then I hit the elevator. As I reach the fourth floor, I’ve almost calmed down. Up until the moment the automatic metal door opens and there, in the door frame, he waits for me with that content feline smirk on his full lips and a dark gaze that dares me to try and f*uck with him again.

Flushed with anger, all I can do is push him out of my way with a sigh and slip into my room, feeling happier than ever to feel the damn lock click behind me. It’s nothing special, this small room in a battered town motel, but it’s better than sleeping on the street or riding the late night bus back to my apartment. Also, it provides a wall between me and that insufferable man. Not that I can’t hear him shuffling in the corridor. At least he didn’t insist on coming in with me. I am not sure what I would’ve done then.

Once inside, I make sure to put all the lights in the room on. Even when I take a quick shower, I am wary of the shadows in the corners, feeling the actual horror of what happened earlier creeping up on me with full force. I almost died. Someone deliberately sent a curse that even I can’t reverse on my own.

I can barely sleep this night. I toss and turn in the bed, painfully aware of the big mean man waiting for me outside the door, and the otherworldly thing that wants to hunt me down and destroy me for whatever reason. My mind races through the state of conscious dreaming, feeding me nightmarish images of cruel men who try to make me submit to their will through heavy fists, and evil witches, torturing me with horrors beyond any imagination.

In the morning he’s still here. He barely looks at me when I open the door, my duffel bag in hand, but the moment I walk away, he’s back on my tail, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears like thunder.

I check out of the motel, and then finally turn to face him. I am glad to see there are tiny bags under his eyes, marring his otherwise perfect skin. Perfect for his ancient age, if you ask me, but still, the sentiment stays. He looks tired and disheveled and generally pissed off. Good.

Sucks that I need my morning dose of coffee to function, so he has to follow me into the coffee shop where he can grab a cup of his own. I am almost tempted to skip today just to see him squirm, but I give in. I really need my coffee.

“You wanted to drive me around, rich boy?” I smirk at him once we are out on the sidewalk near his parked SUV. “Then let’s go for a ride.”

He eyes me with suspicion but the coffee has already made his features relax a little and he looks almost as fresh as he did yesterday at the cemetery.

“And where are we going exactly?”

“To the city,” I shrug, already circling the car.

“Which city?” He grumbles and I can’t help but roll my eyes before I bark my address at him.

Then, the moment I hear him unlock the car, I throw my bag in the trunk and head towards the backseat door.

“What do you think you are going?” The man asks, his weird catlike eyes full of annoyance.

“Inside the car,” I explain like he’s already demented. “So you can drive me? Home?”

“Get to the front seat. I am not your f*ucking driver,” he hisses.

“Whatever,” I shrug. Another roll of my eyes and I follow the order just because I am too tired to argue right now.

He starts the car and changes gears as we drive down Main Street.

“So, what is it that you do exactly?” I ask twenty minutes into the drive, as I can’t seem to focus my mind on anything in particular, so I decide to just act bitchy to pass the time. Poke and pride for information I can actually use against him later.

He doesn’t reply.

“Aren’t you too old to be a bodyguard?” I continue poking. “I wouldn’t want you to break your bones running next time big bad shadow attacks.”

He doesn’t reply to that either. He’s such a fun guy. Bored out of my mind, I reach out and fumble with the radio.

“Don’t touch that,” he grumbles, his hand reaching out to knock mine away. Just like a cat would when it wants to stop you from messing with it - direct, firm, funny in a way.

“Oh, he speaks,” I mumble.

“Not to you,” the man replies and doesn’t say another word.

Yey, I think to myself. That ride should be fun. As will be my life with this broody big cat of a man following every step I take from now on to the unforeseeable future. Lucky me.