“Okay,” I answer. I get that Olafr prefers to let FJ do all the talking, but this Viking has some strange notions about his wolf-bound brother’s mind. He reminds me of those humans who pretend to talk for their dogs, narrating their feelings like they’re actually capable of sophisticated thought.
I decide to change the subject.
“So, Sarah mentioned lessons?” I ask as we begin our trek across the large snowy backyard toward the main road leading into town.
This is so much better, I think. FJ and I are now next to each other which means I can look at my high-tops instead of him.
“My mother has taught me well her tongue, but Aunt Alisha’s blood niece teaches me now to read your written words.”
I’m so surprised by his answer, I actually look up. “You mean she’s teaching you to read?”
“Yea, Varra,” he answers with a smile. And I have to look away, because he really is too good looking. Almost impossible to look at directly, for fear of being burned alive by his fineness.
“Ok, but why?” I ask. “I mean, you’re not going to be here long, especially now that you know what you’re up against.”
“True, I will not. But my mother worked hard to read and write my father’s tongue when she came to his land, and will I do the same now that I am in yours. Teaching me to read her language was something my mother much lamented not being able to do for her children, given her lack of materials. However, I wish for you not to be embarrassed by my ignorance when I meet with the Detroit fenrir after the next full moon. So do I learn now.”
Now I really do blink because it’s an incredibly sweet and thoughtful thing for him to say but… “You seriously don’t have to worry about that. Because you’re not meeting with my father. Like ever.”
Just the thought of my dad meeting FJ constricts my chest with panic. I can almost hear Dad racking his sawed-off shotgun right before he blows a hole through FJ’s head for even daring to approach him with this fated mate bullshit.
Beside me, FJ inhales loudly, obviously scenting my fear.
“So this is your reason for denying our claim. You fear your Detroit fenrir. It is as the wolf who shares your scent has said.”
“The wolf who shares my scent? Wait, are you talking about Uncle Ford? Did you and him talk?”
“Yes, he came the day before this one to pay me visit,” FJ answers. “And he explained to me that the Detroit fenrir would not release your hand to ‘a no-man’ who appeared out of the ‘fucking blue.’”
I stop, momentarily perplexed at what FJ is trying to say. “Do you mean ‘a nobody?’ Did Uncle Ford call you a nobody?’”
“Yes,” FJ answers, his voice tight with the memory of what had clearly not been a pleasant conversation. “However, I have a body, and your father will accept me as your fenrir. This I promise you, Varra.”
Um, no he wouldn’t. In fact, FJ has no idea how much my crazy father would not accept him. But that’s beside the point, because even if my dad was totally on Team FJ, there’s no way I’m signing up for Viking Shifters 2: Enter the Dragons.
“Listen,” I say, keeping my eyes on the snow. “I’m sorry Uncle Ford insulted you, but you really need to understand that this isn’t going to happen. It can’t happen. It just…can’t for so many reasons.”
I can sense him stiffen beside me, and then he quietly says, “Yea, the wolf who shares your scent spoke of another who would claim you as his mate. But have no worry, Varra, we will do our duty so our claim might be accepted with honor.”#p#分页标题#e#
And his voice takes on a certain edge as he says, “Your fated mates will do anything and kill anyone who stands in the path of us being as one.”
Oh, my God, I think. Now he’s talking about killing my ex-fiancé? After knowing me for, what, three whole days?
“Okay, I get we’re from different places,” I say, stopping in my tracks. “But I seriously need you to understand this whole fated mate thing you’re proposing isn’t happening. I mean, it’s NOT going to happen.”
He stops, too. Then turns to face me, standing so close I don’t have a lot of options for where to rest my eyes. He’s so close now, his feet are invading my snow stare.
So close, I’m pretty much forced to lock my gaze on his left shoulder. I mean, he’s all up in my personal space. And that combined with his answering silence makes it hard for me to breathe all that fresh air I’m supposed to be enjoying right now. Why does it feel like it’s me and not him who’s in the wrong here? Like I’m the crazy person?