Bowe flexed his bloody fist. "And what do you propose for me?"
"We want you gone. Your presence is obviously upsetting for her."
"Oh, aye, the poor, wee lass - who tossed me like a skipping stone. You want me gone, and believe me, I want to be as well. But you forget - it's my head if she does no' arrive in one piece. Considering that this just turned into a game of 'protect the mortal' through the jungle, I think I'll stay and ensure that she lives."
"Your job's over. Hild will inform everyone that I take full responsibility for Mariketa. If anything happens to her, it's my problem, not yours." When Bowe was unmoved, Rydstrom said, "We think that if you stay, the two of you will kill each other."
Likely. "I canna leave until she undoes this second curse. Understand me, I will no'."
"And I'm sure she's keen to do anything you ask right now. Bowen, what were you thinking?"
"Was no'."
"You know women better than this."
"I know women - no' witches. And believe me, demon, there's a difference."
"I've never seen you lose your temper like that. And I've seen your wrath many a time," Rydstrom said, his tone becoming musing. "I hope you're certain she's not your mate reincarnated."
Bowe froze. The thought had crossed his mind, of course, but there were dozens of reasons to discount the idea. Still... "Why do you say that?"
Rydstrom limped to a fallen tree and dropped his giant frame down onto the trunk. "What if Mariketa didn't enchant you? If you accept the belief that no one in the Lore gets a second mate, then reincarnation is the only other explanation for you to think of her as yours."
Bowe knew Rydstrom's curiosity could rival any Lykae's, and he enjoyed solving mysteries and fixing problems. Rydstrom had obviously deemed this situation one or the other, or both. He got that analytical air about him, so contrary to his demon state when reason was lost - even worse than Bowe in his werewolf form.
And therein resided the problem with Rydstrom. When he went demonic, he really went.
He continued, "Reincarnates are extremely rare, true, but they do exist."
"No, the witch did enchant me," Bowe insisted. "The Valkyrie soothsayer confirmed what I'd already felt. She even told me Mariketa would eventually remove it for me."
"Valkyrie soothsayer?" Rydstrom's brows drew together. "You don't mean Nïx? What was it that they called her?"
Nucking Futs Nïx.
"Shame a beauty like that is so soft in the head. But why would you trust that mad creature on something this important?"
"Everyone I trust in the world trusts her," Bowe said. "That's good enough for me." But was it, really? Damn it, Mariah and Mariketa, aside from the similar fey names and pointed ears, were complete opposites. Mariah had been so ethereal and innocent, the witch so sensual and devious, and so... brave. No. Mariketa could not be her. Simply impossible.
Rydstrom studied Bowe. "Wouldn't matter now if Mariketa was her anyway."
"What does that mean?"
"Animosity has probably already turned to hatred in that one. And there's nothing like boiling hatred to dampen a female's acceptance of her mate. Especially when he's not of her kind." Rydstrom ignored Bowe's scowl and said, "I just wonder if the witch actually could have cast such an intricate spell on you. Think about it - this couldn't be a simple love spell to trigger this kind of reaction in you."
One thing Bowe was unequivocally certain of was that he didn't love her. He desired her, had overriding urges to protect her - and to bed her. Gods, how I want to bed her.
But he didn't even like her. Which followed. Considering that she'd just attacked him. Twice.
"Though her power's great," Rydstrom continued, "it's volatile, and she's clumsy with magicks. Yet to do this to you, she would have had to affect the Lykae's Instinct in you. And not merely to tamper with it. Somehow she would have had to trick a force that has been honed over hundreds of thousands of years. Then, say she'd managed that, instead of accidentally blowing you up - which she admitted to us that she does ninety-nine out of a hundred times. Do you think she could have removed just one of her spells from you tonight, leaving the other? And in her condition?"
Bowe felt sweat dotting his brow. What if... what if Mariketa the Awaited actually was... his? His female, returned to him? His to claim, to protect - to claim. He felt a savage thrill at the idea of possessing her and bending her strong will to his.
What if fate had finally taken pity on him after all these wretched years?
He shook his head hard. "My ability to heal was honed over the same amount of time as well, but she managed to tamper with that."
"Someone would have taught her that mortality spell, but do you think they'd have taught her how to affect a Lykae's Instinct?" Rydstrom said. "Let me ask you, isn't there some way you can prove without a doubt that she's yours?"
Bowe hesitated to answer before muttering, "If I can get her with bairns."
"Are you bloody jesting?" Rydstrom snapped, then narrowing his eyes, he added, "That's right! I recall this now."
Bowe ran his palm over the back of his neck.
"Since that's how to get the proof you need, I know what I'd be aiming for, and a pleasanter endeavor I can't imagine."
"Doona be imagining that at all, or I'll be tearing your throat out!"
Rydstrom raised his brows.
"So if you were me, you'd just go along with the Instinct, treat her as yours for possibly years until you decided for certain?"