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If Magnus didn’t want you? Why wouldn’t he? There wasn’t a reason you could be sure of, and you weren’t even gagging on your ego. If he didn’t, though…
“I wouldn’t do anything like a person like you’d do,” you challenged, “I want him to choose his path, and if he doesn’t want me on that, then I’d let him go. There’re other good men in the world.” Albeit not many. “He’s good enough to have whoever he wants, and I want that for him. I don’t own him. Like you think you do.”
Yuliana narrowed her eyes at you. “What words to hear from somebody who rides a motorcycle like the heavens could not stop her. Are your mind and soul different people?”
“I love a man, not a slave,” you said back, “One thing’s for sure, though. If he takes me and leaves your ass back in the place he left, where you sat and didn’t follow? If you try and screw with us, with him, after he’s made his choice? Try and do a second go when you’ve lost?” You flicked out the knife a finger’s span away from Yuliana’s head, and turned it aside at the last moment. A pair of silvery threads of hair fell from her head, but she hadn’t flinched. “The gloves come off. Mag wants us t’ be friends for some reason. It’s either that, or you get the hell away and never come back, or you’re buried. Got it?”
Yuliana’s eyes went to the knife, then slowly back to you, the corner of her mouth pinching. “We’ll see if your presumption comes true. I expect not to see you after I have exceeded you, regardless.”
Without any other words needed, you lowered the knife…though you could swear something had pushed your grip away as well.
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When Magnus returned, it was dark, and he ferried both of you to the dueling ground. One at a time. Unnecessarily, you’d have thought, but when he came back for you, it seemed he had things to say in the rented car, things he didn’t want to discuss in the room. Probably did the same with Yuliana.
“I wish you two could have some patience,” Magnus said quietly as city lights passed overhead, dim spectators peering in through the windows. The stars would not be dark when you escaped to the blooding grounds of your destination. “I would tell you of Yuliana’s kindness and have you see it, without her fighting herself. I would tell her of yours, without her trying to deny you it.”
You crossed your arms and sulked in the shotgun seat. “I ain’t the one who greeted her by callin’ her a whore.”
“I know.” He reached over to you and put his hand on your shoulder. Stretched out his fingers to brush your nape. “I must be frustrating you worse than she is.”
