powerfully it can affect the user. And like it or not, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”
The brave words rang hollow inside her, though, because it really, really sucked to realize it was the truth. Once upon a time she would’ve bloodied anybody who’d dared to imply that her and Rabbit’s relationship wasn’t the number one most important thing in the universe . . . but that relationship didn’t exist anymore. And, really, how much did a lover—or an ex—matter when they were facing the end of the world?
“So that’s it?” he said. “We’re done?”
“What did you expect?” snapped, suddenly very aware that they weren’t alone.
“I never expected to see you again. I thought I was going to die in that cave.”
Her heart twisted. “Damn it, Rabbit.”
“Sorry.” He cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I’m the bad guy here, not you. Never you.” He squared his shoulders. “Okay. That’s it, then. I guess I’ll need your help with the magic. Other than that . . . well, I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Yeah. Okay.” They stood there for a moment that probably seemed longer than it really was. A dull headache thudded as adrenaline drained. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said softly, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it back.”
And she was, really. The anticipation had been worse than the actual event. Sort of.
“Thanks. And Myr?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you were the one who got my magic. Of anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
She just nodded, doing her damnedest to hold it together. He was really her ex now; it was really over. Which shouldn’t have hurt but somehow still did, warning that some part of her had hoped, deep down inside, that when Red-Boar found him he’d be the old Rabbit, quirky and unexpected, and so thoroughly in love with her that he made her feel like she could do anything.
Thing was, she didn’t need a lover to be strong. More, the man standing opposite her wasn’t the guy she’d been in love with . . . but he also wasn’t the angry, strung-out stranger he’d been at the end. He was both of those men and neither of them, a grim, scarred version with stark, honest eyes that had new shadows, new secrets. She didn’t know this Rabbit, didn’t know how to deal with him.
Just walk away,
she told herself.
Be smart this time, and just walk the hell away
. And, forcing her feet to move, she did exactly that.
* * *
Rabbit hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. But in his deepest, most secret fantasies—the ones he hadn’t even really admitted to himself—he’d never pictured her walking away from him.
She still cared—he’d seen it in her face, along with the shadows that said she didn’t want to care. Which meant . . . shit, he didn’t know what it meant, but he knew he didn’t want to leave it like this. Couldn’t. He went after her, boots digging into the soft sand outside the ruin as she headed for the bogged-down Jeep.
But the moment he started down the incline, Red-Boar came out behind him and grated, “Hold it right there.” And the bastard backed it up with a shield spell that he cast like a damn cage.
Rabbit banged off the invisible wall, cursed, and spun back toward his old man. “Stay out of this,” he warned. “It’s none of your damned business.”
Red-Boar was alone; the others hadn’t followed, though Rabbit didn’t know what that meant. His old man cast a long enough shadow as it was, as he strode to where the shield enclosed Rabbit, then leaned in close to growl, “It’s entirely my damned business. The gods sent me back to make sure you do your duty, and that doesn’t have fuck-all to do with patching things up with your girlfriend.”
Rabbit’s jaw locked. “We were mates.”
His father shot a pointed look at his forearm, which was bare of the
jun tan
mark. “Listen up, boy, and listen good. We’re both
The brave words rang hollow inside her, though, because it really, really sucked to realize it was the truth. Once upon a time she would’ve bloodied anybody who’d dared to imply that her and Rabbit’s relationship wasn’t the number one most important thing in the universe . . . but that relationship didn’t exist anymore. And, really, how much did a lover—or an ex—matter when they were facing the end of the world?
“So that’s it?” he said. “We’re done?”
“What did you expect?” snapped, suddenly very aware that they weren’t alone.
“I never expected to see you again. I thought I was going to die in that cave.”
Her heart twisted. “Damn it, Rabbit.”
“Sorry.” He cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I’m the bad guy here, not you. Never you.” He squared his shoulders. “Okay. That’s it, then. I guess I’ll need your help with the magic. Other than that . . . well, I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Yeah. Okay.” They stood there for a moment that probably seemed longer than it really was. A dull headache thudded as adrenaline drained. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said softly, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it back.”
And she was, really. The anticipation had been worse than the actual event. Sort of.
“Thanks. And Myr?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you were the one who got my magic. Of anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
She just nodded, doing her damnedest to hold it together. He was really her ex now; it was really over. Which shouldn’t have hurt but somehow still did, warning that some part of her had hoped, deep down inside, that when Red-Boar found him he’d be the old Rabbit, quirky and unexpected, and so thoroughly in love with her that he made her feel like she could do anything.
Thing was, she didn’t need a lover to be strong. More, the man standing opposite her wasn’t the guy she’d been in love with . . . but he also wasn’t the angry, strung-out stranger he’d been at the end. He was both of those men and neither of them, a grim, scarred version with stark, honest eyes that had new shadows, new secrets. She didn’t know this Rabbit, didn’t know how to deal with him.
Just walk away,
she told herself.
Be smart this time, and just walk the hell away
. And, forcing her feet to move, she did exactly that.
* * *
Rabbit hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. But in his deepest, most secret fantasies—the ones he hadn’t even really admitted to himself—he’d never pictured her walking away from him.
She still cared—he’d seen it in her face, along with the shadows that said she didn’t want to care. Which meant . . . shit, he didn’t know what it meant, but he knew he didn’t want to leave it like this. Couldn’t. He went after her, boots digging into the soft sand outside the ruin as she headed for the bogged-down Jeep.
But the moment he started down the incline, Red-Boar came out behind him and grated, “Hold it right there.” And the bastard backed it up with a shield spell that he cast like a damn cage.
Rabbit banged off the invisible wall, cursed, and spun back toward his old man. “Stay out of this,” he warned. “It’s none of your damned business.”
Red-Boar was alone; the others hadn’t followed, though Rabbit didn’t know what that meant. His old man cast a long enough shadow as it was, as he strode to where the shield enclosed Rabbit, then leaned in close to growl, “It’s entirely my damned business. The gods sent me back to make sure you do your duty, and that doesn’t have fuck-all to do with patching things up with your girlfriend.”
Rabbit’s jaw locked. “We were mates.”
His father shot a pointed look at his forearm, which was bare of the
jun tan
mark. “Listen up, boy, and listen good. We’re both
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