Bride of Glass (Brides of the Hunt Book 2) Read online

  Glancing at Tokre, his soft coo starting up, his chest heaving with strange, gasping hiccups as he blinked rapidly, though his lips still curled up in a snarl, his dark eyes searching mine pleadingly, I threw my hands up in exasperation.

  “Baby, honey boo boo, my fur beast gigolo love monkey, if I was gonna leave your overbearing, fuzzy ass I’d have done it by now!”

  “Mmmmmmnnnn,” he growled out softly, pressing his hand to his chest to extend his other one towards me.

  “Yes,” my hand thumped my chest, “yours. And if you’d just sit there like a good old busted up beastie, maybe I could grab a blanket and cover up all that is yours, hmm?” Glancing down my bared frame, I gave him a telling look.

  As if a lightbulb had gone off in the beast’s fat head, his gaze snapped to every other male present. “MMMMMMNNNNN. TTTTTKKKKKKRRRRSSSS,” he snarled out viciously, the strength of those drawn out words shaking the bed frame, it reverberated so deeply, heavily.

  Aaaaannnnnd now we’re back to this. Awesome, I thought sarcastically.

  Yep. Nope, not doing this again. I’m so not. “Covered in blood, naked with a bunch of strangers...” I found myself mumbling angrily under my breath. “This is not reality television, and I refuse to be a reluctant member of an improv version of Naked, Bumbling, And Afraid!”

  My hand shot out, my lips curling up in their own angrily snarl, and I hissed, my eyes locked on the only being in the room that could fix this crap, and pronto.

  “Zhuii!” I screeched, waving my hands between them frantically. “Just tell him!”

  “Zhuii...” the big beastie began.

  “Will tell Tokre that everything is fine, that they’re just here to torture Noyel, Neal, whatever the hell his blasted name is, given or otherwise, and no one means us, anyone, harm. And if they do, you give your word to kill them! You got me, blue-razzleberry fluff?”

  Shaking, I was so riled, I took one step towards him, my hands dropping to my sides, feet slapping the floor noisily, fingers curling into my palms to form two tight fists.

  “Or do I need to repeat myself,” I growled out softly, my tone belaying the way my heart was thudding in my throat, head pounding at my temples, the veins in my neck pulsing.

  “Ah...” Zhuii glanced from Tokre to me.

  “Understand!” I bellowed, my chest heaving dramatically.

  “Yes,” the beast blurted, a note of unease in his quick reply. Zhuii’s hands lifted, his motions short and jerky, his shoulders stiff, the fur along his back bristling, but he got to work reassuring my beast mate.

  “Oh,” I muttered, dipping to retrieve one of the pelts from the floor to wrap it around my shivering bod, “and be sure to tell him I’m not going anywhere so quit growling at me. I don’t like it.”

  “Yes’m.” Zhuii grunted his words out, making them barely audible, but I’d heard them all the same.

  With a grunt, I gave a sharp nod.

  Good, god damn it.

  Sitting on the end of the bed, my retrieved fur wrapped around me, a pelt wrapped bundle, one of Tokre’s legs shifted until it was snuggled up to my ass.

  Touching, always touching, that one.

  Honestly, I didn’t mind—he was warm, disturbingly so, like a walking space heater blasting towards me.

  Making myself right at home while Zhuii played interpreter, not once losing that uneasy, worried look on his face as he did so, I carefully crawled between my mate’s legs, positioning myself between them, just at his feet.

  “Don’t move,” I scolded, when the stubborn male would have moved to accommodate me, his body relaxing as Zhuii continued to sign, hopefully translating my barked command, and I made my own blanket nest at his feet.

  Noyel walked over, helpfully handing me pelts from the floor to wrap myself in. “Thank you,” I told him, “but this doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Of course not,” he said way too easily.

  Dorothy and her male watched us, retreating to observe.

  It was quiet for a long moment.

  I’d just finished folding the last pelt Noyel had handed me into a makeshift pillow, finding a spot out of the potential heavy-sleeper-foot-to-the-face range, and was right about to lay my head down, have myself a short rest, when a feminine throat clearing had me glancing up.

  Dorothy was right by the bed, like she’d poofed there like magic, biting her lip. Her giant beast companion hung back, watching everyone from the corner I’d recently vacated by the wall nearest the hearth.

  “I do not torture my children,” she said with some determination, as if the lie was lighter than the weight of the truth.

  “Not all of them,” Noyel muttered unapologetically, his arms folding over his chest in that defiant position he seemed to take up with the woman when she was getting on his nerves.

  “Oh, pshaw! I love my babies!” the beast bride argued.

  “All of them?” Noyel chimed in, a strange look on his face.

  Dorothy’s lips pursed and she swatted at this towering creature I’m supposed to believe she popped out of her hoo-hah. “Yes, all of them,” she parroted, hissing her words through clenched teeth.

  “Though some more than others,” he needled.

  “Yes,” the giant by the hearth said easily, without an ounce of remorse, his deep, rumbling timbre rattling the window nearby.

  “NO! I- Well, I-” Dorothy was sputtering, stuttering, her hands fluttering around wildly like she didn’t know if she was going to whack one of them or burst something out.

  “Rothy-mine loves babies most. Noyel and Bia Rothy’s younglings. Bia not let Rothy-mama torture Bia. Noyel does. No worries, little Nee-lee-y bebe,” the big beast’s lips pulled up in a wide, sharp-toothed grin, “Mama loves he-”

  “Griever!” Dorothy huffed. “Now you leave the boy alone! He’s-”

  “Not a boy. A MALE. Noyel a male,” poor Noyel insisted. Or, erm, tried to.

  It seemed a bit hard to get a word in edgewise when Dorothy and Griever started going at it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think their sniping bickering was some form of… flirting? Foreplay? Oh, ick. I shuddered.

  “Bia a warrior, hunts,” Noyel’s father felt the need to point out.

  “And what’s that got to do with anything?!” Dorothy shot back, her hands slapping her hips, her face pinching sourly. “So he’s not a warrior! So what? He’s a healer, like me!”

  “Griever wrong,” her mate said easily, waiting until Dorothy harrumphed to continue, “Noyel is Mama’s favorite. Bia is second. Rest are last.”

  “Griever!!” Dorothy screeched. “I cannot- That is just- I don’t even- Noyel is-”

  “Wishing he could die,” Noyel muttered on a disgruntled huff. Glaring down at the fuzzy tops of his thick, clawed toes, he looked positively miserable.

  Zhuii snorted, then coughed to cover up a laugh, and that’s when I heard Tokre snicker, which meant the orange-eyed beastie was translating everything, even now.

  I knew that look on Noyel’s face, that feeling, all too well, his skin flushing as he glanced from his parents to me, then the sniggering pair at the head of the bed. He was wishing the floor would swallow him up whole, fur and all.

  Stop that, I mouthed at Zhuii, who saw the look on my face and quit it immediately.

  Crickets on crackers, maybe there was something to this vying to be my mate business I could use to my advantage in all of this, if they actually cared this damned much.

  “Look at it this way,” I whispered to Noyel, “both of your parents must really love you. They both seem hell-bent on torturing you. Even more so than the others, and not just because you allow the abuse. So, you know, in a way, you’re super loved.”

  “Not helping any,” Noyel muttered, but his lips twitched up in a small grin and he chuckled a little.

  “Made you laugh,” I teased, smiling when he glanced down at me and the stiffness in his shoulders eased, his furrowed, annoyed expression softening.

  “Griever not torture
Noyel. Dorothy torment, torture, peck at offspring. Griever not love most to torture. Griever think Noyel’s an idiot, like Lukar. Noyel warrior and heal, but no listen to Papa, or Da, or Pa. No, no listen to Griever! Hims daddy! Khri-”

  “Mama’s Jesus,” Noyel’s eyes rolled heavenward, “don’t bring your perfect Khri into this.”

  A sharp gasp had my gaze jerking to meet Dorothy’s. I watched as she sputtered on a round of loose, raspberry-like gasps. “I can-not believe you just said that!”

  “It truth,” Griever felt the need to point out defensively.

  “GRIEVER?!!”

  “What?” the giant beast rumbled out, though his expression was growing shadowed, like he’d realized he’d said too much, the completely and utterly wrong thing, and had suddenly begun to grow wary.

  Though he feigned nonchalance, Mr. Machismo Beast, warrior guy, I got the sense he was genuinely apprehensive of his outspoken mate, maybe even intimidated a little.

  Or what might come outta her mouth and what that could mean for him.

  Hah! That giant of a beast, afraid of her? Good on her, I thought with a snort.

  From the look on Dorothy’s face—I didn’t care how much smaller she was than him—that woman looked fierce. Her beast mate might want to consider running right about now.

  “I’m beginning to understand why you all growl instead of talking,” I admitted, watching the bickering pair avidly, “or speak in short, broken sentences instead of complete ones.” I looked to Noyel pointedly, who grimaced at being called out. “Though I know some of you are capable of talking normally, and seem to have deeply repressed anger issues,” I further mused aloud.

  “He doesn’t have anger issues!” Dorothy was still glaring at her mate, though her words were meant for me.

  “Maybe I do,” Noyel added with a mischievous grin.

  “You do not!” Dorothy huffed. Oh, her feathers were good and ruffled, and wet around the edges.

  “No tell Noyel what he has, Rothy,” her giant beast chimed in. His eyes were twinkling, his lips twitching in much the same way Zhuii’s were, as if they enjoyed a good verbal spat.

  “No, Rosie’s onto something. Noyel really could,” Noyel insisted. He frequently switched from perfect English, to beast, to that broken beast English speaking he seemed determined to use, though it came across like he only really used it around other beasts who favored the mixed, broken, stilted speech.

  “He doesn’t!” Dorothy stomped her foot, her hands gripping her skirt. She looked like she might sprout a few new grey hairs any moment. Or horns. “I mean you don’t!”

  “Maybe it’s because most of Noyel’s fathers are disappointed in Noyel for following Noyel’s dreams and Noyel’s mama tortures him,” Noyel mused aloud.

  “That,” Griever grunted out in agreement, shoving a fat finger in his child’s direction. “And Griever think Noyel idiot.”

  “Love you too, Daddy,” Noyel called back, the small smile he gave his parent saccharin sweet. “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Good.” Griever grunted and dropped his hand, but then frowned and grunted harder. “Wait. What?”

  Dorothy burst out laughing at Noyel’s heartfelt sentiment, her hand slapping to her mouth just as suddenly, the other to her stomach as she had herself a little giggle fit.

  “Noyel make fun of hims daddy?” Griever grumbled out menacingly, his eyes flashing as the fur on his shoulders shot up, bristling from his furry head to those enormous feet. He held back, though, I felt.

  Posturing seemed to be a big deal with these guys.

  “What Noyel know?” Zhuii felt the need to cut in, with an exaggerated shrug and innocent enough expression. “Griever say Noyel just an idiot.”

  Noyel, mouth open, about to say something that would probably earn him a beastly backhand or another cuffing from his father, grinned, his mouth slowly slamming shut as his lips swiftly widened.

  Big Daddy Beast’s hands flew out, flapping about as he started to gesture wildly, his face bunching, ears flattening, brow furrowing, as he floundered most marvelously. I’d have burst out laughing if I wasn’t piss-my-pants scared of the enormous being. It grew quiet as this went on and Griever struggled to find something to say to that.

  Dorothy, still fit to be tied, giggling fit or not, could probably find enough words for everyone. “I do not torture you.” The woman had her mom face on, the sour look on her face puckering like she’d been sipping on liquid sour Warhead candies.

  “Torture with love?” Zhuii, deciding on playing the peacekeeper, added helpfully.

  “Shut it, you,” Dorothy muttered, motioning him out of her way so she could sidle up alongside Tokre. “Next time you’re injured I’ll let it rot off, you mouthy beast you.” Her words were muttered and terse, but her eyes sparkled and her lips jerked, quirking.

  Zhuii, grinning like a fool, stepped back, opting to stand at the foot of the bed, ready to translate. When he’d passed the healer, she’d paused to give his furry cheek a gentle, loving pat. Zhuii’d given a mock purr that had her chortling and her mate grumbling, his cheeky grin peeking out.

  “Flirt. Cheeky, cheeky flirt. Better watch you,” she tutted chastisingly, but smirked.

  Hah. Maybe she’ll add the Zhu-man to her harem and take him off my hands. Maybe she thinks of him as more of her son’s flirtatious acquaintance, I corrected, watching the way she chuckled at his antics and smiled affectionately.

  “Tell him she just wants to check him out, Zhu,” I said on a yawn. “That she just wants to make sure everything is okay.”

  “Zhuii,” the blue fluff topped manimal grumbled.

  “Zhu, seeing as to how I’m Rosie-lindy and whatever nonsense you’ve butchered my name into,” I countered. “Better than Zhoobi, Zhabooby, Zoomies, or whatever fifty and one ways I can mangle yours.”

  My eyes closed and I settled back down, my hand reaching out to smooth over the inside of Tokre’s leg, along his calf. “Zhu is a fair price for a Lindy, I’m thinking.”

  “Wants to question my work,” Noyel grumbled under his breath. I cracked my eyes open, spying through the barely perceptible slits, watching his eyes narrowing as they landed on his mother.

  I continued to observe the occupants of the room unobtrusively. It was more comfortable this way.

  “And Lukar still corrects and oversees mine,” Dorothy remarked absently, setting her things beside my mate’s thigh, her basket nestled by her hip, having a quick peek at Tokre’s myriad of boo-boos, as I was most definitely going to call them from now on, knowing how much it annoyed Zhuii.

  Once finished, she straightened and stood back, accepting her basket as Noyel lifted it and held it out to her.

  “Well done.” Dorothy smiled sweetly up at her son, reaching out to give his chest a pleased pat.

  “Thank you, Mama,” Noyel murmured, surprised.

  “Did really good, honey,” she gave a short nod, “maybe just a little less gristle brut root next time. You always did have a tendency to make things too strong.”

  At Noyel’s ah-ha! There it is! Knew you were just gonna say something look her eyes crinkled up at the corners.

  “Sweetheart, you will learn in life, there is always, always,” and as she stressed that last part she glanced over her shoulder pointedly, giving her mate a long, measured look, “room for improvement.”

  “We go,” Griever’s crazy deep voice grumbled on a snort.

  Yes! They’re leaving, I thought with no short amount of relief. My eyes closed for what felt like the millionth time in an hour, and I breathed deeply. Yep, a couple more of those and I’d be out like a light. Just as soon as they freaking left.

  Listening to her offer instructions, collecting her things as she went, she stopped at the foot of the bed.

  On alert, senses heightened, I could feel as she approached, the soft growl in Tokre’s throat as her basket creaked a dead giveaway.

  “I’ll not touch her.” Dorothy’s voice was soft, barely above a
whisper. ‘Tell him, Zhuii. I just wanted to make sure none of that blood was hers. There’s… There seems to be quite a bit.”

  “Why not ask when Rosie awake?” It was Zhuii who posed the question.

  Dorothy made a funny noise and hesitated. “I didn’t think she’d appreciate me picking at her. What with... Uhm, well, with everything she’s been through recently. The girl seemed a bit…”

  “Female,” Noyel corrected. “Not a girl. A female.” He stressed the importance of Dorothy acknowledging my womanhood, I guess one could say, for reasons I didn’t really care about at the moment.

  Just leave! And take ‘em all with ya, lady, please?!

  Dorothy cleared her throat. “She’s awfully small, and she strikes me as…”

  “Strong?” Zhuii put in.

  “Mouthy?” Noyel offered, a hint of affection smoothing over his voice.

  “Loud?” Zhuii said with a chuckle.

  “Bossy?” Noyel quipped with a hint of pride.

  “Brave? Soft?” There was a huskiness to Zhuii’s voice that had my nape tingling.

  “Caring?”

  Noyel and Zhuii took turns offering up descriptions for my person, and I was feeling sweetly, unwillingly seduced.

  I didn’t move, not a muscle, feigning sleep as they had their little gab fest. Was that how they saw me? Brave? Strong? Mouthy? Loud, I thought with an internal chuckle.

  “Delicate,” Dorothy said finally.

  “Sweet,” Zhuii corrected.

  “Sensitive,” Noyel went one step further with.

  “My goodness,” a chuckle left the healer, “I see there’s no sense in trying to have this one out with you two, is there?”

  “No.”

  “None.”

  “You’re decided, then?” she asked cryptically.

  “Yes.”

  “No doubt in my mind, Mama.”

  Dorothy made a noise, exhaling softly. “In that case, I’m happy for you. And good luck, especially with that one hovering about. I’ve a feeling you boys are going to need it.”

  “You… You approve, then?” Noyel asked hesitantly.

  “Noyel no need approval,” Griever huffed out, sounding annoyed. “Noyel a Lo denaii or a hooman? Silly… tiny…”