White Stag (PERMAFROST #1)

Chapter Six: Hard Truths

She gave a wicked grin. "Yes."

Gods, I was hoping I only imagined my blush. "Well, you're wrong. I'd rather eat a live rat than be with him and I'm sure he'd say the same."

Rekke shrugged. "I doubt it. I mean, he's so passionate and handsome and strong." Her eyes gleamed as she spoke and I had to hide a chuckle. It looked like she might've fancied Soren herself. Well, she could have him for the good it did me.

"Passionate?" I said. "I wouldn't use that work to describe him."

"Well, I would. Besides, you can tell he cares about you."

"I'm his property," I said bluntly. ""Of course he cares."

Rekke sighed and shook her head. "You're hopeless."

"Wonderful." The nagging feeling about last night was growing harder to ignore. I wasn't blind. I knew that for a goblin, Soren paid a great amount of attention toward me as his slave. But that was all I was to him—a slave. And no Hunt, no gesture of presumed kindness, nothing would change that. Soren would always be my master—untouchable, unreachable, and someone who I hated with every fiber of my being.

Or at least, you used to. I told the voice inside me to shut up and focused on the crisp leaves crunching over my feet and the cold air chilling my bones. I wasn't sure how close we were to the border, but from the way the trees grew densely packed together and the birdcall up above it was possible we were close enough for some of the life to seep over from the other side. But we could still be miles away. I'd gone out hunting with Soren before, years ago, when I tried to defy the bond that bound me to the 'frost.

He'd let me run through the woods as it slowly gained more and more life, only for me to be jerked to halt near the border like I was controlled by puppet strings. I hadn't talked to him for a week afterward until the anger faded from my veins and the hatred cleared from my blurry eyes. Yet even as devious as he was there was no doubting he protected me when he didn't need to and that he treated me better than he should've.

Perhaps he always had this sinister plan for me from the moment Lydian threw me down at his feet. Perhaps he always knew what I'd become. Maybe some instinct deep inside him told him that there was a kindred spirit in me. And I couldn't deny that in his own sick, twisted way he cared about me and in my own sick, twisted way I cared about him too. It was far easier when blind hatred was my only emotion.

            "We'll stop here," I said. "Let me see your stance."

            Rekke pulled her bow from where it rested against her back. She got into her stance, her small, pink tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Despite the unpleasantness of it all, watching the young goblin lifted a weight in my chest that I hadn't known was there.

            The girl stood with her feet pointed inward and her elbow rotated toward the bowstring, one eye completely closed. Her arm shook as she struggled to hold the string against her chest.

            I sighed. She wasn't kidding when she said she was no good with a bow.

            "Okay," I said, "first keep your feet straight. Don't turn them inward toward your body. Your stance should be with feet parallel to each other or with closed hips."

            Rekke scowled, but nodded and straightened her stance.

            "Also, keep your elbow level, don't have it higher than the rest of your arm. Make sure it's straight or else the arrow will go flying and you'll bruise the inside of your arm." I touched her arm, lowing it until it was level with the rest of her. "Keep your bowstring taunt and change the anchor point from your chest to your chin," I said, taking her hand and correcting her grip. "Make sure both eyes stay open—I know some teach you to shoot with only your dominant eye but both eyes open increases the range of sight and strengthens the non-dominant eye."