Forbidden Forest (The Legends of Regia) (9 page)

“Well, that’ll teach you,” Forest chortled.

He snorted, feeling just how wet he really was. “You could have just said no.”

“I could have, but I made my point so much more effectively with the water, don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically. “You made your point clear. My clothes will be wet till tomorrow night.” Regian water didn’t evaporate as quickly as Earth’s. “Where did you put my pack? I need my spare clothes.”

Forest looked at him, speculating. She’d seen the clothes he’d brought in his pack when she’d put his bottles in the fridge, and she thought this was a good time to bring up her concerns about his appearance.

“You know, Syrus, you have the obvious look of royalty and at the very least, nobility.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s not a complement.”

Syrus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I think we should consider how to disguise you better, especially once we leave here. Would you consider trying human clothes?” she asked.

“Do you have any that will fit me?”

“Sure. Follow me to the basement.”

Forest’s basement was so full of various human things that it resembled a consignment shop. She went to her clothing stores and began rummaging for what she thought Syrus should wear. She thought it was rather funny that he was standing behind her waiting to be her dress up doll.

“Here.” She thrust a pair of jeans and a grey button-up shirt at him.

He pawed at the garments for a moment, seeing what they were with his hands. Then he pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor. Forest took in the sight of his bare chest, her brain going a little foggy. She blinked when she realized that he was about to pull off his trousers too. “Whoa!” she hollered.

“What?” his voice was alarmed.

“Don’t you have any decency?” she demanded.

“Huh?”

“Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean I am! Change your clothes in your room.”

He just laughed at her when she picked his shirt up off the floor and smacked the wet fabric against his chest. He turned around and carried his new clothes up the stairs while Forest followed him. Her eyebrows pulled in confusion as she looked at his back. It looked like a map in scars. Having been through years and years of training, and many more in real combat, Forest could tell what the cause of many of his scars were. He had obviously been through extensive tactical training and sparring. She wanted to ask him about it but felt it was still too personal. Curiosity would soon begin to make the cat ill.

Syrus found his room without assistance. Forest waited while he changed, wondering how the human clothes would look on him. She needed to talk to him about the possibility of cutting his hair. She figured she should bring it up now and give him time to pout and mull it over. He might flat out refuse. The problem was that the length and style of his hair was a mark of his rank.

Syrus came out a few minutes later. Forest sighed sadly like a beggar looking in the window of a shop at something they could never have. He was so beautiful. The jeans she had given him were a little too long, dragging behind his heels, but not so long as to really cause him trouble. He had replaced his belt but had removed the swords. His button up shirt hung open on his chest. He ran his hand down the buttons.

“Would you help me, Forest?” he asked.

“Sure.”

She moved forward and reached to button his shirt for him. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she pushed the first button through the buttonhole and realized just how intimate an action this was. Her eyes lingered on his chest as she buttoned the next one. His chest was scarred as well but not so much as his back. She buttoned the next one, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. She was holding her breath without realizing it. Why did this shirt have so many buttons? She did the next one and the next, averting her eyes from his face.

Syrus leaned his head down towards her and slowly reached up one hand, taking a gentle hold of her forearm. Forest froze, looking up into his face that was closer to hers than she had thought, and felt her eyes go wide.

“Forest,” his voice was almost a whisper. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“…Uhh…” her throat had gone dry. “What?”

His fingers tightened gently on her arm and his thumb moved back and forth over her skin, teasing out a shiver in her.

“Would you remove the silver you’re wearing?”

“Why?”

“I have a feeling that you are going to save my life in the next few days. It would pain me greatly not to be able to kiss the hand that saved me.”

Forest’s mouth fell open stupidly.
Snap out of it
! A little voice yelled inside her head. She pulled her arm out of his grip, buttoned the remaining buttons at super speed, and stepped back from him. “Well, if I do save your life, you can ask again, and if I feel like letting you kiss me at that time, I might remove a few things.”

Syrus smiled impishly at her. He had caught the fact the she had said, ‘kiss me’ and not ‘kiss my hand’, and he was not about to forget it any time soon. But aside from that, his little ruse of ineptitude let him know that she was not immune to him, even though she was scampering away from him now and would probably turn back into the viper any moment. He didn’t mind staying on his toes because whether she being friendly or hurling blunt objects at him, Forest was the very opposite of boring.

“So,” Syrus spread his arms out. “Do I look like a human?”

Forest considered his question. He could pass for a human celebrity, maybe. She could take him to Hollywood, put him on the red carpet at some random event, make sure his picture was taken and the next day the internet would be buzzing with desperate questions of ‘who is this?! We all must know!’

“Close enough,” she said. “Look, I need to talk to you about something.”

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Well, I know you aren’t going to like my suggestion, but we really need to make sure that you are not easily recognizable once we set out.”

“I thought that was what the clothes were for.”

“Yes. But it’s not enough. I want you to consider letting me cut your hair.”

“No!”

Forest sighed. “Look, I understand. I do. But if we are apprehended on our journey, the wolves will either kill you and take me hostage or kill me and take you hostage.”

“Everyone thinks I’m dead. They won’t know I’m the prince.”

“Even if they don’t realize that you’re the prince, your hair marks you as vampire nobility and a master of the Kata. Your capture would be too great a prize for them to overlook. They would try to ransom you, at which point they would learn your true identity. You would be killed in the worst way possible. They would put your dead body on display. The repercussions of your death would be felt through all of Regia. The wolves might succeed in overthrowing your father.”

Syrus shuddered. “And what would happen to you?” he asked.

Forest was surprised by his concern. “If they didn’t kill me as well, I’d be forced into slavery. The wolves I know have a love/hate regard for me. Philippe would probably claim me. So, basically if you die and I live, my life will suck. No offense.”

Syrus was frowning at her. “Why would Philippe claim you?” The idea shot an angry pain into his gut.

“He’s got a major Jones for me,” she said flippantly.

“So he would force you to be his mistress?”

“Something like that. But that’s best case scenario. If we are caught, they must think you are nobody special. We need to think of a good cover story, just in case.”

Syrus looked like he was thinking hard. “But when we get back and everyone sees my hair short… that would be humiliating…People would laugh at me. How could I lead the army? They wouldn’t respect me.”

“Look,” she said aggressively, “I don’t care about any of that. My job is to keep you alive not fashionable.”

Syrus looked highly offended. “This isn’t about fashion. You obviously have no idea what this would mean for me. It would be a symbol of shame. You have no concept of how vampire nobility treat those they feel are beneath them. If you knew, you never would have asked such a thing of me.”

Forest’s insides writhed with rage. “You insensitive, arrogant, spoiled, selfish oaf of a sucker! You’re so right!
I
have
no
idea what shame is! Well, you can keep your hair and be the most beautiful and
respected
corpse there ever was. Go right ahead, you thoughtless baboon, and endanger both of our lives so you won’t have to lose face! You stupid, stupid, entitled, narcissist!”

Forest turned her back on him, marched to her room, and slammed the door. The next second she opened it again to shout one more insult at him.

“You…you…” words seemed to fail her as she struggled to use the worst one she could think of, “
you…Male
!”

She slammed her door again and locked it. Syrus just stood there, his mouth hanging open. It was the first time in his recollection that someone had insulted him to his face. And she had done a thorough job of it.

“What the heck is a baboon?” he muttered as he stalked back to his room.

Forest lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. It had felt damn good to say all those things to Syrus. She was sure no one had ever dared speak to him like that before. That knowledge gave her a warm fuzzy feeling inside. She considered it her special privilege. She thought about the way his face had looked when she had called him all those names, and the next second, she was laughing so loudly, she could have been heard from outside.

Syrus listened to her laughter. The sounds of her mirth made him feel even worse, if that was possible. He wasn’t angry, which confused him. Syrus felt like she had run over him and now she was laughing at him. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, trying to sort through his feelings. The house fell silent.

Forest watched the sunset through her bedroom window. The deep hues shimmered in the retreating iridescent sunlight. The sky seemed to move in a slow dance of color that didn’t exist on Earth. The only thing Earth had that was close to a Regain sunset was the
aurora borealis
.

How was she going to get them through the Wood alive? She had to make him understand the weight of the danger ahead. Could he really be so vain that he would rather die than cut his hair? Could he really be so heartless to not care if she lived or died? She shook herself. Of course he wouldn’t care if she died. Why would he? Well, if one of them was going to die on this trip, it would be him. If he did, she would be wanted by the vampires, and they would hunt her down. But she could escape to Earth. She could live out her life there happily enough.

A sudden emotional intensity seized Forest as she watched the sky, and a rogue tear eased out of one of her emerald eyes. This was her home. As much as she loved Earth, she never wanted to give up all that she had fought for and accomplished. If things went awry on this trip, banishing herself to Earth forever felt like letting Leith and all those like him win. She would rather die fighting than cower and run. She would not acquiesce to failure. Failure might get the better of her, but not with her permission.

Syrus idly twirled the ends of his hair around his fingers. He twirled the words she had flung at him around in his mind the same way he did his hair. She had spoken without restraint, and she had told him succinctly what she thought of him. Instead of responding with temper and haughty indignation, Syrus considered this a rare opportunity for him. Forest’s respect had to be earned. She wasn’t dazzled by the fact that he was the prince the way most women were. In her eyes, the fact that he was the prince was just another strike against him. If he could earn her respect then she could become something odd and wonderful to him: a
real
friend.

Syrus thought about the possibility of Forest’s friendship for a while. Given her temperament, he didn’t think she could have many friends. He had no idea how to go about winning a friend, but he had to come up with a plan. At first, he had wanted to guard himself from her, but the more he replayed her voice over in his head, he began to want her to know who he really was.

Syrus smiled to himself as he ran through a mental list of all the things he knew about her, so far. She was far more guarded then he ever had been. The woman, no doubt, had many secrets. In the events of their newborn acquaintance, Forest had unwittingly let Syrus know more about her than she had intended. He discovered that he had a growing respect for her and decided that the best way to possibly begin a friendship was to be more open and just be himself. The smooth charm he regularly used on women would fall flat on her and the usual effect of his charm wasn’t what he was going for. Not this time anyway.

The knock on her door made Forest want to shout. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone the rest of the night? She sighed, steeling herself for what might happen next with Syrus, and opened the door.

“What is it, Syrus?” she asked wearily.

Syrus took a deep breath and then jumped in with both feet. “If you want to hate me for being born the Prince, that’s fine, go right ahead. But I didn’t choose it anymore that you chose to be born what you are. I’ll apologize for my behavior, and I shall strive to treat you with the respect you deserve from now on. But I won’t kiss your feet and I won’t ask you to kiss mine, either. Deal?”

Forest just blinked at him for a moment. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

Syrus astonished her again by flashing another guileless smile. “I’ll think about what you said about my hair. Just give me a little time.”

“Fine,” she said shortly.

“It’s evening now.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, what do you usually do in the evenings?”

Forest considered for a moment. He’d taken her abuse good naturedly—that surprised her. She could easily do something that would make the evening fun and memorable for him. “I usually make a fire outside and enjoy the onset of nightfall in my garden.”

“That sounds nice. Could we do that?” he asked.

“I guess. And I think we should make S’mores.”