CARNAL, The Beast Who Loved Me (15 page)

She may not have known it, but she was a pioneer in the sense that she was the first human to ever live and be accepted as one of them. So far as Carnal was concerned, that meant something. It took courage to show up in a society where she was not only the only outsider, of a different subspecies, but was also representative of a race that was distrusted, if not despised.

When the rush died down, Carnal said, “Guess I’d better get back to work.”

“It was nice of you to wear a shirt to lunch,” Rosie said off-handedly.

Carnal grinned. “So you noticed I didn’t have a shirt on earlier.”

Rosie looked him in the eye. “There’s no point in pretending you’re not fun to look at, Carnal. You already know that. But I’m not looking for a boy toy.”

Carnal laughed showing off his very white and dangerous looking fangs. “Boy toy?!? Is that a real thing where you’re from?”

“It is for some people. Not for me.”

Rosie turned to take a tray of glasses to the deep sinks for washing, but Carnal caught her wrist.

“I don’t want to be your boy toy, Rosie.”

“Good. Then we’re agreed.” She looked pointedly at his hand on her wrist, detaining her progress. “But I might want to be your man.”

“That’s a lovely proposal, Carnal, but I’m not in the market for a man.”

With that he released her. She took the glasses to the sink. When she turned around, he’d gone. He didn’t work on the Commons porch that afternoon, but when she left for the day, he was waiting to walk her to the Weavers’ Barn.

He’d changed clothes and smelled nice, like a man recently bathed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Walking,” he said. “So, are you doing level three today?”

“You were really listening.” She didn’t want to be impressed by that.

“Of course. I’m interested in you.”

Rosie stopped walking and turned to face Carnal. “You need to stop being interested in me.”

He faced her, with hands in his pockets, and leaned down toward her which accentuated the height difference and also gave Rosie a little catch of breath.

“I can’t just stop being interested. I’m interested. And you need to know that I’ve never chased after a female before. Ever.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?”

“You absolutely
are
supposed to be flattered by that.”

Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t kidding. “Are you being serious?” He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Look, I only have a few minutes before school’s out…”

“I only have a few more days before I’m back on watch.”

“Oh. You’re on vacation?”

“We don’t get vacation, Rosie, but we do get brief periods when we’re not on active patrol. When that happens we’re still on watch, at the ready, or we’re helping with things that need doing around here. Like building
‘vestibules’
.”

She studied him for a few beats. “I have to go. See you at dinner.”

Carnal didn’t show up for dinner. He ate at the Commons with his crew and stayed late drinking. He’d as much as told Rosie he wanted to spend time with her while he could. She’d as much as said, “No thanks.”

Everything about her bothered him. It bothered him that she was human living in the Exiled settlement. It bothered him that she was living in his house. In his room! It bothered him that she was impervious to his charm to the point of mocking. It bothered him that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and that, since he’d come home, he hadn’t been laid. Not because there wasn’t opportunity. There was always opportunity. He hadn’t been laid because he was obsessed with the little human, her strange ways, her emerald-green eyes. And, all of a sudden, the most notable thing about other females was that they weren’t her.

He liked sitting in the Commons when she was working, watching her rush around serving his brethren with a smile. He liked watching even better when she slowed enough for her hips to roll and sway in a way that was decidedly different from Exiled females. He thought that perhaps he’d blown his chances when he’d challenged her about her qualifications for teaching. Truthfully, he wasn’t objecting to her qualifications, but rather her species. That was when he settled on a plan, to learn more about her, treat her like a real person and not just a body that would give him a few minutes pent-up release and the forgetfulness he craved. He winced at having used that verb, of all the things to be thinking.

There was some unmistakable something about the little human that drew him in and wouldn’t let go. He had no experience with being turned down, but thought that was a lousy excuse for giving up easily. He resolved to rededicate himself to the goal of convincing Rosie he was worth consideration.

As Rosie had observed before, the mood at dinner was definitely more subdued when Carnal wasn’t present. As much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she was disappointed that he wasn’t there.

“What did you think of level three, Rosie?” Serene asked.

Rosie smiled while chewing a bite of some unknown, but delicious root vegetable from the stew in her bowl. “Delightful. They were taking turns reading. I was wondering where you got the books.”

“Kellareal brought them.”

“Oh,” Rosie said, and continued eating.

“Rosie,” Serene flicked a glance at Free, “you can speak openly. Do you have something to say about the books?”

“Well, the books were written about humans by humans. I know there’s not
that
much difference between us, but I think the children might benefit from having pride in your own, um, species.”

Charming laughed. “Not
that
much difference?”

“Charming.” His mother had a warning tone. Again.

But he ignored her and continued. “We’re bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter. We live longer and almost never get sick. We’re better than humans by any measure you can name.”

Rosie just looked at him and shrugged. “Okay.”

Charming didn’t hide his displeasure with her response. “What! You think otherwise.”

“Not for me to say.” Rosie held his heated gaze. “And clearly you already have pride in your people with or without books written about hybrids.”

Clearly, Charming was not ready to put the topic to rest. “If you think humans are better at something, name it.”

“Rosie,” Serene interrupted, “my son is not speaking for us.” She turned a glare toward Charming. “You are not instigating a superiority competition.”

Charming’s anger visibly melted away from his face as he looked at Rosie. “Sorry.”

“My son is young,” said Free quietly and calmly. “I hope you will overlook that outburst.”

Rosie looked at Free. “I’m not offended. So far as I can tell, everything he said is true. You are bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter.”

Charming smirked. “I heard a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.” He looked between his parents. “What? Didn’t you hear a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”

Free’s brows came down as he gave Charming a pointed look. “Unless you want to talk about something else, your contribution to dinner conversation is done.”

Charming huffed.

Serene gave him a reprimanding look, then said to Rosie, “I like your idea about the books. I don’t know if there are any books about hybrids, but we could ask Kellareal.”

“The ideal thing would be to write your own. There are other worlds with hybrids and, probably, some of them have books, but they wouldn’t be in your language and wouldn’t reflect your culture or history.”

Serene looked taken aback. “Write our own?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Serene looked uncertain. “Well…”

Rosie realized then that she hadn’t seen much evidence of creativity in the culture. There were some Exiled who played acoustic instruments in the Commons at times and there were the beautiful fabrics woven on the looms.

“Did you trade for the shawls or did you make them yourselves?”

“We knit them ourselves.”

“The patterns that you use, none of them are the same, and that’s a kind of art. Writing books is just a different art.”

Serene looked at Free, who shrugged.

“I’d like to see all the books Kellareal brought for use in school. If I could.”

Serene nodded. “I’ll assemble the books, one of each, and have them ready, probably day after tomorrow.”

“It would be even better if you could have someone bring them to the Commons. Afternoons are usually slow enough that I could spend time going through the books and still be at the bar in case I’m needed.” She chuckled. “Dandy calls it my ‘post’ and is very persnickety about someone being there at all times.”

“Persnickety,” Charming repeated.

Smiling like she was pleased with the way things were going, Serene said, “Excellent. I’ll have them delivered to you day after tomorrow. Around two?”

“Whenever it’s convenient. I’ve usually wrapped up the chores by two-thirty.”

“Two-thirty it is then.”

When dinner was over, Rosie put her foot on the first tread of the stairs to start toward her room, but Charming stopped her by putting his hand on hers where it rested on the baluster. “I was an ass at dinner.”

Rosie nodded. “Kind of.”

Charming gave her his signature smile. “Come over to the Commons and have an ale with me tonight. Magic is playing fiddle. It’ll be fun.” She hesitated, looking upward toward her room, where she’d stowed a book written in a language foreign to Exiled. “Come on.”

It wasn’t exactly pleading, but it was sincere.

“Okay.” She grinned.

The warmth had given way to another cold front just in time to put the new construction to the test. They’d finished at the end of the day and Rosie was looking forward to seeing if it helped. Charming opened the north porch door for her. “Look at this. Pretty nice, huh?”

“Yep,” was all she said.

It was warm in the bar and crowded. Lots of people had turned out to hear the music, which consisted of a fiddle, a drum, and an instrument that looked like a hammered dulcimer.

“Hey. There’s Tag,” Charming said. “Let’s go sit with them.”

“Okay.”

Charming led her to a table near the fire where his friends, Tag, Fray, and Gaunt were sitting. They grabbed a spare chair to make five and rearranged the seating so that Rosie could see the musicians, while Charming went to the bar for two mugs of ale.

When he returned and set the mug in front of Rosie, she chuckled, saying, “It’s strange to be here and be served.”

Charming leaned over and said, “You deserve it. And you don’t deserve the way I acted at dinner.”

“Forget it. I have.”

He smiled.

Rosie turned her attention to the music. It was fun, lively, and everyone in the room was having a good time. When the music stopped, the fiddle player whom Charming had called Magic, said, “Who wants to sing?”

Within seconds the crowd was chanting, “Charming! Charming! Charming!”

Charming smiled. He leaned toward Rosie. “Back in a minute.”

When the music began, Rosie immediately understood why Charming had been called up by popular demand. He was singing a song reminiscent of a medieval ballad in a voice that sounded like a gruff Irish tenor. Rod Stewart came to mind even though she knew he was Scotia fae and not Irish elf.

As Charming sang, Rosie’s eyes began to wander over the crowd that was quietly enraptured by the spell he was weaving. On the other side of the fire her eyes found and locked on Carnal, who was watching her with the intensity and single-minded focus of a jungle cat. The firelight made his eyes even more captivating than usual.

There were four others at his table, three males, one female. The female sat to Carnal’s right. She was tall like him, and lean. They made a good-looking couple. As Rosie watched, the girl draped her arm around Carnal’s neck and said something into his ear. He responded with a slight smile, but didn’t take his gaze away from Rosie. Not even to blink.