Not My Fairytale

Chapter 15

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A Murderer

"I shouldn't be here," I said by way of greeting as I entered the cover of the willow the next day. Angelo was lounging on the lowest branch of the tree like one of the jungle cats Franco and I had learned about in our schooling with Signora Flori when we were younger. He didn't climb down at my arrival, just continued to laze there, swinging one dangling leg in the air below him.

He chuckled that rich, velvety chuckle that I hated to admit that I liked, "Where should you be then, princess?" He turned his head to look at me, "Giving grand speeches? Shaking hands? Kissing babies?"

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. He dropped from the branch and landed effortlessly on his feet, but he wasn't done, "Do forgive me if I don't genuflect, I haven't been taught the proper way. Perhaps you could teach me some time."

I narrowed my eyes at him and took a step back. He noticed my small retreat, and the corner of his mouth twitched up in response, he opened it to speak, but I cut him off before he could say what I had no doubt would be something totally aggravating, "What do you want?"

By the time I had gotten home from meeting him the day before, my mind had completely cleared, and I was furious at myself for being so weak in his presence. I refused to fall victim to his games and trickery again, and knew that keeping my distance was pivotal in achieving that goal. The mate bond was a slippery slope, and I knew that any misstep on my part would only make the pull stronger. I was here to get my answers and leave.

That is, if he was willing to give me any real answers.

"What do I want?" He repeated aloud, pondering the question, "At the moment I would love a good bowl of chowder. I haven't been able to find any since arriving in your country."

I jumped at the opportunity to get him talking, "Arriving from where exactly?"

It was his turn to narrow his eyes as he regarded me. I couldn't help but notice that he was the one avoiding direct eye contact this time. He was opting for one of my own favorite methods for thwarting the bond, looking at a freckle, a scar, anywhere but the eyes. I smirked as the realization that he was struggling with the bond as well washed through me. It was like a soothing balm to my wounded pride from the day before. "The Free Lands, across the sea," he answered slowly, as if he was looking for the trap in my question.

The Free Lands. I should have known. I didn't have long to chastise myself, because suddenly he stepped forward and used my distraction to close the distance between us. His hand grabbed hold of my chin before I could pull it away, and held firm. Sparks danced along my skin from the contact, filling me with warmth, but I refused to make eye contact, looking instead at the way his hair curled softly behind his ear, determined to hold firm to my plan to get my information and leave with my dignity intact.

It didn't seem to matter that I wouldn't meet his gaze, as he scrutinized me, tilting my chin this way and that. I wasn't sure what he was looking for, but when he angled my head so that a beam of sunlight filtering down through the leaves of the willow shone directly into my eye, I finally shot him a glare. Before I could pull my chin from his hold, he had already dropped it like it had burned him, letting out a string of curses under his breath. He took a few steps away and started pacing, "I am supposed to be the smart one," he scolded himself, in a low grumble, running a hand through his hair as he stepped, "every six year old child knows that the power in alpha blood manifests itself in unique eye colors in human form." He glanced at me for a moment, then scoffed, "One pretty face and I'm a blundering idiot."