Chapter 7 : Details

"Why does it matter to you so much where we're going?" Fynn snapped.

Ugh, that attitude again. I supposed I must be getting close to some sort of boundary, but I wanted to know more. I wondered if I could dance along that line, balance on the razor edge that was Fynn's limits of conversation.

"You're taking me with you. Don't you think I should know where we're going too?" I reasoned.

Fynn took a long, deep breath. He was quiet for so long that I wondered if he had decided not to answer.

"We need to make camp soon. I don't want to travel after dark," he said instead.

"I don't know if you noticed, but you're the one holding the reins. I just go wherever you go, remember? Even if you don't tell me where that is." I let go of him, letting my arms dangle at my sides. He'd stopped binding me while we rode, but I was sure if I tried to escape, he'd stop me with another tree root.

Fynn sighed. "I need to meet up with some colleagues of mine."

Colleagues. I wondered what kind of colleagues broody men of the woods had. Would they be pleasant? Would they be equally as gruff? Would they be the ones to chop my head off?

Although, to be honest, I was starting to believe my head might just get to stay connected to my shoulders.

"Colleagues in which particular line of work?" I asked. "I don't exactly know anything about you other than your name."

Fynn turned Alastor down a little deer path, off the main road. I wondered if he knew what was at the end of the path, or if he just randomly selected places to turn every night when it was time to make camp.

"I'm a soldier," he said brusquely.

"Oh. Do you enjoy that?" I hadn't really imagined that. The way he spent money, I assumed that he was some sort of statesman or government official. A politician maybe. Apparently, they paid soldiers well here.

"Sometimes," he said.

"You're one hell of a conversationalist, has anyone ever told you that? I mean really. Never change," I told him, patting him on the shoulder.

Fynn tugged on the reins, pulling Alastor to a stop in a small clearing full of soft grass. A little brook was babbling down the hill from us. I could only see a small portion of it, but I could hear the running water. Maybe I could take a bath? That would be incredible.

I slid off the side of Alastor, getting more comfortable with the routine we had formed in the evenings. I walked through the small clearing, making sure to stay within its bounds so Fynn didn't get nervous. I looked for sticks or small logs, anything that could be used to build a fire, or kindling to keep it burning.

Fynn was silent and broody as usual, pulling the saddle and bridle off his night black horse. When he was done, he took my armload of sticks from me and built a fire, just large enough to cook a little food on.

"Keeps the animals away too," Fynn said as I carried some rocks over to cook on top of.

"What about demon bears?" I asked, giving him half of a smile.

"When the black blood is all drained, it's just a regular bear," he excused.

"I don't usually eat bear, regardless of the color of its blood," I retorted.

He looked up from where he was stoking the flames, giving me a devilish smile and lifting an eyebrow in challenge. "You did the other night."

I rolled my eyes and went to set out the bedroll. I didn't want to watch him cook whatever he was planning on making for dinner tonight. I learned that it was better if I didn't know.

The smell coming from the campfire was enticing, so once I finished setting out the bedroll, I turned back to see if dinner was ready. Fynn hesitantly reached into the cook fire, grabbing whatever meat he had off the fire.

"We have all that dried meat, why do you keep finding stuff to cook?" I asked, going to join him.

"As long as I can catch something fresh, we have the dried meat for backup when I can't catch something. If we eat all the dried meat now, we run the risk of having nothing to eat. It's called rationing. Maybe, in whatever self-indulgent Court you come from, people don't do that, but in the Forest Court, we try to think ahead," he retorted.

I frowned at him. I didn't come from any court, whatever that meant, but I was now insulted on behalf of whatever court he thought I came from.

"Where I live, we have magical boxes that keep food safe to eat by keeping it at a consistent temperature so we don't have to subsist off dried meats. And we don't just wander aimlessly through the woods," I snapped back.

Fynn rolled those beautiful green eyes and chuckled at me.

Damn him for looking so handsome doing it.

He handed me a portion of whatever we were eating tonight. This was far less identifiable than our breakfast today, but I didn't question it. If I didn't ask, I didn't have to know, and I could just swallow it down. Fynn was actually a surprisingly skilled cook, so it was at least bearable to do it. I hadn't gagged since the bear meat.

We ate in silence, and I tried to avoid stealing glances at him. Fynn had removed his cloak, hanging it on a branch nearby. I could better see the way his broad shoulders tapered to a toned waist, tempting my thoughts to travel back to where they had been earlier that afternoon.

Every once and a while, I could have sworn that I could see him look over at me, but he was so fast that I could never be sure that he was.

It was late, the woods swallowed up by the night and the only thing keeping us from being swallowed up was the little orange fire. I finished my food and stepped out of the ring of firelight, shedding my blue dress and carrying it to hang next to Fynn's cloak.

"Going to bed already?" he asked.

"Well, I was going to step away to go to the bathroom first, but I didn't realize I had to ask permission for that," I answered.

"Do as you please," he waved in dismissal.

If I was doing as I pleased, I would have taken off running and not looked back. Well, that's what I told myself. Because, as I traipsed into the trees to pee, I realized that wouldn't be doing as I pleased. No, doing as I pleased would involve stripping that shirt off him and seeing what was hiding underneath. Maybe peeling away those trousers too.

I had to force myself not to think about those sorts of things. I reminded myself that Stockholm Syndrome was a powerful drug and that I was technically still a captive. Just because Fynn had done nothing to harm me, and actually had been careful to protect and provide for me, I was still his prisoner. I had no free will and no resources to take care of myself with.

Finishing up, I took my time wandering back toward the campsite. I shouldn't return. I should just take the opportunity to dart off into the woods, using the cover of night to disappear, but the truth was that I didn't know if I had the survival skills to make it out here. I certainly couldn't fight off a demon bear if there were more than one of those.

Entering the clearing, I watched Fynn's head snap back to the fire.

"Were you watching me?" I demanded.

"Watching you relieve yourself? No. Watching to make sure you made it back safely? Absolutely," he answered.

"You pervert, you were watching me pee," I accused, stomping toward him.

Fynn stood up, and the fire cast his enormous shadow over me, making him seem even larger than he was.

"I may have provided you with some degree of freedom, but I still know you're a spy for Evangeline and your crime won't go unpunished," he warned, towering over me.

"I cannot repeat enough times that I have no idea who Evangeline is," I snapped back.

"Oh, please. I've put up with your games for long enough," Fynn huffed.

He moved his fingers, something I'd come to recognize as some sort of summoning gesture. I hated that I wasn't quick enough to predict exactly what he was summoning. Vines dropped from the branch that hung over my head, wrapping around my wrists and tugging my arms in the air over my head. There was enough tension in the vines that I had to stay very still to keep from having to stand on my tiptoes.

Fynn stalked toward me, head cocked to one side.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Let me go," I demanded, yanking my arms down to try and free them.

He only responded by moving his hand again, tightening up any slack in the vines. He stood only inches from me now, his breath fanning over my face. My eyes widened and I looked up into his face. He didn't look angry, he looked amused.

Fynn gripped my hip with one hand, digging his fingers in. He dragged his other hand up my ribs, palming my breast through my nightgown. The motion tugged the hem up on that side, making it dangerously close to being too revealing.

"You argue constantly. You sneak off expecting privacy. You ask more questions than anyone I've ever met," he said, voice somewhere between a growl and a hiss. His thumb brushed over my nipple, making it peak beneath the nightgown. My back arched involuntarily at his touch, but I couldn't force myself to say anything.

My breath was coming in shallow pants now. I couldn't drag my eyes away from his pink lips. Those filthy thoughts from earlier were dancing dangerously close to the surface, even in my fear and confusion.

"Maybe I should search you myself to make sure you're not hiding any sort of summoning stones or sending stones so you can report on me to your master. This dress doesn't hide much, so I'd have to really check for your hiding spots," he teased, releasing my hip and circling a finger around my hip bone.

I could only squeak in indignation, though I could feel my growing arousal making me slick between my legs. My heart thudded in my chest, and all I could think about were his hands on me.

Fynn tipped his head to the side, mouth only a fraction of an inch from mine. Was this it? Was Fynn going to kiss me? I just had to tip my chin up, almost imperceptibly so, and our lips would meet. I heaved in a ragged breath.