Wild Tiger Chase | Book #2 (Complete)

24: your master, Brash (Part II)

— Rob — 

He was so tired.

Rob closed his eyes and went through his memories again. Everything was fine. Everything was great with Leo in his arms, warm and affectionate and gripping his hair and moaning with that expression that made his heart break and fix itself three times over. But the more they talked; the more Rafa, then Phillip, then Léon himself proved things were not the same anymore—that they would never be the same anymore—the more the seed of anguish swell.

And it was a seed all right, its vines wrapping his heart, its thorns piercing his mind, its roots stealing the water from Rob's few ponds of self-control. His ever-shrinking self-control.

That anguish was a bloody weed, and Rob didn't have enough strength to unroot it.

"Roberto Tapir," he mumbled. "Grizzly Bear. 28. Born in a storm where the river meets the sea, on July 29th. You're not The Mayor's lapdog anymore. And..." He took in a deep breath. "You're not Grizzly Bear anymore. You think for yourself. You're a good person." The words Phillip had said pierced his heart once again; his voice wavered. "And you were not responsible for what happened to Léon."

"Weren't you?" said the voice at his back.

Rob turned around to meet Anhangá's eyes; his expression darkened. "Here to spite me like the others, are you?"

A shadow crossed Anhangá's features. "No one was spiting you, bitter boy."

The weight of Anhangá's gaze was too much, so Rob averted his eyes. His hand rested above the place where Phillip had hit him. "You don't know that."

Anhangá chuckled. The sound was so derisive and mean, Rob wished to punch the joy out of his face. Several times.

The thought troubled him. Why was his brain jumping to violence so quickly?

"Shite." Rob forced in a lungful of crisp air and hid his face with a hand. "Leave me alone, An. I need to calm down."

"An?" Anhangá stepped forward and placed a hand on Rob's wrist. That warm touch alone convinced Rob to look at him. Anhangá gave him a small curl of lips. "Are we this close already, my bitter boy?" His expression changed—a merchant appraising an exotic piece of meat. "Well. I suppose we are. Two-and-twenty years inside of you and three at your side is surely enough to be deserving of a nickname, isn't it? I approve."

A smile won over Rob's lips. "You're a git."

His hands fell limp on his thighs, and he leaned back, lifting his gaze to the brightening sky. Everything changed, but at least Anhangá was still the same. Infuriating and cheeky, yes, but still the same. And things must really have changed if Anhangá could now make him smile while Léon only made him feel like shite.

"I'll see that as affectionate swearing if you don't mind."

Rob shook his head. "Whatever bakes your potato, An."

The sound of the wind rustling tree leaves filled the short silence between them. Anhangá looked around, admiring the luscious green of the forest, then closed his eyes as if listening to the awakening birds. Anhangá was the protector of Old Continent's forests, and Rob couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be in a preserved stretch of land like this. Would he be happy for being here? Or would he be sad with how shitty things were in Old Continent?

"So?" Anhangá finally said, opening his eyes.

Rob waited.

Anhangá's smile widened. "Won't you share your thoughts with me? I used to have access to them, but now I can only guess."