The Hunt (By Kiss and Claw #2) - Melissa Haag Page 0,46

to tell you that Elbner’s been fed,” Jenna said.

“That doesn’t explain why Eliana is here, helping you look for me.”

Jenna didn’t answer, and I knew she wouldn’t. I inhaled the scent of her shame and felt some of my hunger recede. Poor Jenna, so twisted up for Fenris. Poor Fenris and me, so desperate for an escape from all the pressure people were putting on us.

I opened my eyes. Although each ridge and groove of the bark behind Jenna stood out in stark clarity, I knew I had enough control to step away from Fenris.

“I’m out here because I ran into Jenna at Megan’s. You should have told me Elbner was being impossible, Fenris. Both of you stood out in the cold for no reason.”

Some of that darkness crept in again at the thought of how long Fenris had been out there.

“Not for no reason,” he said. “We did it to help you.”

Jenna nodded, her gaze locked on me.

“Thank you both for your help, and Jenna, thank you for inviting me over. I’ll see you Monday.”

Neither one moved to follow me as I backtracked the way I’d come. Hopefully, Jenna would get a little one on one time out of Fenris for her efforts, and I’d be able to hide in my room for the rest of the day.

I lay on my back and watched the sun peeking through the canopy. Above me, cakes swayed in the breeze. The moment I focused on one, it drifted down toward me, and I opened my mouth, idly consuming the odd combination of Boston cream pie and spice cake.

The cakes had never before mashed into weird combinations, but I didn’t mind the new creations. I set my hand on my rounded belly and rubbed it contentedly as I chewed. For the first time ever, I felt sated. However, that didn’t stop me from slowly eating more. The cakes were so good in both taste and smell, like they were still warm and fresh from the oven.

I inhaled deeply, reveling in the hint of chocolate and…skunk.

Bolting upright, I looked around the clearing. The breeze played with my hair as the scent grew stronger. Yet, I saw nothing.

“You have beautiful nostrils,” a high-pitched voice said.

“Don’t you dare,” I screamed, scrambling to my feet. “Wake up, Eliana. Wakeup, wakeup, wakeup!”

“I’ve missed you,” the voice squeaked from above.

I looked up, and something landed on my face.

The dream and reality overlaid themselves for a second as I broke free. Sitting up in bed, I swiped at my face, but nothing was there.

Tiny squeaks echoed from behind me.

“Good morning,”—pant—“my beautiful goddess, future”—pant, squeak—“mother of my children, and”—pant—“provider of heavenly juices.”

Gagging on the smell clogging my room, I twisted around to look at my pillow. Sure enough, Piepen lay there in all his naked horrory, vigorously touching himself. His “hooded” gaze made me want to throw up.

“Why are you here, and why are you touching yourself on my pillow?”

“Because no one else will.”

His hips bucked, and the awful smell grew even more pungent.

“Well, knock it off.”

“Okay.”

A shower of sparkles launched into the air, and I scrambled from the bed.

“Thank you,” he squeaked dreamily. “My acorns were two seconds from breaking if they didn’t get milked. The sound of your voice sent a tingle to the right place, though. It was just what I needed.”

Careful not to touch any of the sparkles, I picked him up by the wings and gave him a little shake. That dark thing in me rose just enough that I could make out the flecks of color in his tiny, panicked gaze.

“Listen well, Piepen,” I said lowly. “You will never again sparkle anywhere near my head. Learn control or die. The choice is yours.”

He nodded shakily. “Please. My wings hurt.”

Shame pushed the dark thing inside of me back enough to release him.

“And you make my brain hurt.” He flitted into the air in front of my face. “Put your clothes on and tell me why you’re here, yet again, when I told you not to come back.”

He hurriedly dressed as he talked.

“I did what you said. I’ve showered Dewy with all my attention. I haven’t looked at Peachspray’s rounded backside, not even when she bent over in front of me at the bathhouse. And I didn’t wash Judy’s glorious flower, even though she had trouble reaching it herself.”

His woe-filled words painted the picture of an orgy in the guise of community bathing. Thankfully, my eyes didn’t go black at the thought, or I would have started