I’m not allowed to see Manx until I hand over my weapons, which is downright fucked, but I knew that coming into Whisper Grove, and for now, it’s the sacrifice I’m willing to make. The sooner Willow sees Manx, the quicker she can be patched up and I can find a way back to Blackwater to get rid of her.
After handing over the weapons to the barman, who tells us his name is Alexi, he turns for the door behind him and walks through, quickly shutting it. I glance over at Willow, who eyes me and shifts onto her good leg to stay steady.
“You should sit,” I tell her.
“Sitting makes it hurt more.”
Stubborn mule.
I look away, but I know she’s glaring a hole into the side of my head. Fortunately, she doesn’t react, and whatever thoughts she has, I block them out as the door swings open and Alexi returns. Trailing behind him is Manx.
He looks the same as I last saw him, only his beard is gone now. His face is naked, but his hair is still shoulder-length and snow-white. He wears a white robe that’s as bright as his smile as he steps around the bar.
“Caspian Edgar Harlow,” Manx greets, and if I didn’t have so much respect for Manx, I’d slap him for saying my full name out loud. He opens his arms to me, ready for an embrace, and I stiffen. Noticing, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender, smiles, and says, “Ah. I thought maybe you’d have gotten over that old touch thing by now.”
I step toward him. “Manx, I need a favor.”
“Don’t I get a hello? How are you doing? What’s life like?” he asks, frowning at me.
“I wish I had time to ask how your life has been, but as you can see…” I step aside, gesturing to Willow’s bleeding thigh. “I need assistance.”
Manx steps around me to get closer to Willow with a tilt of his head, then he drops to one knee before her, lightly grazing a finger over the metal. “Just a small shard. Isn’t touching a nerve or an artery, fortunately.”
“You were wrong,” Willow says to me.
I work my jaw, holding back on whatever rude remark tries to surface. Not that it would matter. She’d likely hear it anyway.
Manx smiles up at Willow, and she returns one to him.
“Alexi, help this young woman to my office, please.”
Alexi finishes topping off someone’s drink, then marches around the counter to Willow. “You’re in pain so I’ll carry you there,” Alexi offers. “Is that okay?”
Willow looks into his eyes, bounces her gaze to me, tips her chin, and says, “Yes. That’s fine.”
He scoops her into his arms carefully, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, avoiding his eyes, but clearly enjoying the attention judging by the small smile on her lips.
Glad there are people here who know how to treat a woman.
I watch Alexi carry her down a hallway and turn a corner, and there’s a flare in my chest as they go. It feels as if I’ve suddenly developed heartburn, or that I’ve swallowed a ball of spice that hasn’t digested properly. The feeling blazes inside me, unwanted, unwavering, and I form a fist at my side, clenching my teeth together. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never felt it before, and I don’t fucking like it, but what I do know is that I don’t like Alexi having his hands on her. It doesn’t sit well with me and downright pisses me the fuck off.
Why wasn’t she grateful when I carried her? All she did was gripe about it mentally and squirm, but one touch of this stranger and she thinks he’s some kind of god?
My eyes shift to Manx, who is already looking at me with a smile.
“What are you looking at?” I grumble.
“Is she yours?”
“I don’t have anyone.”
Manx smiles wider, his eyes turning bright. “I see.”
“Just heal her so we can leave, Manx. I don’t need any of your wise-old-man bullshit right now.” I walk past him, going to the office.
