Page 31 of Taking Jenny (Planet Orhon #4)

Mal

I am not the only one with secrets.

I spent the entire day pacing my room, torn between demanding the truth from Tiger and letting him recover from Justice’s confrontation. After what he endured this morning and knowing he was partially responsible for Summer losing part of his tail, I couldn’t push him. Not yet.

But the way he’d stood before Justice—unflinching, defiant, gloriously reckless—it had been maddening. And arousing.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was lying to me.

I didn’t see anyone until supper. When I finally walked into the dining hall later than usual, the rest of my misfit circle was already there. Discord wasted no time reminding me of my tardiness.

“So, you are planning to feed us?” she said, deadpan.

I rolled my eyes. “You know the staff will bring you whatever you want, Discord.”

“Oh, aye, but I can’t give you grief until you arrive.”

Despite my mood, I chuckled and waved Vine over to begin serving. As I surveyed the table, I was greeted by a fuming Jenny—a distinct reminder of last night’s fight between us. And whatever that strange, abrupt exit was this morning. She hadn’t spoken to me since.

“Jenny,” I began with deliberate calm and a true inflection of contrition in my tone, “I am sorry for what I said to you last night. It was undignified. And unworthy of us both.”

She didn’t soften. “You acted like I’m going to lose Illiapol.”

I sipped my herbal water, my throat tight. “I did not mean it. I was merely trying to provoke your fighting spirit, not wound your pride. Still, I’m sorry.”

She sniffed indelicately. “I have more important things to hold against you now.”

I exhaled and resisted the urge to rub away the throb in my temples. “And what would that be? Whatever it is, I’m sorry for that too.”

“You took Tiger to the palace to be questioned by monsters!” she snapped.

Every head turned in her direction at her outburst.

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” I said, keeping my tone firm but even, a part me understanding her anger because I’d felt the same way. “Believe me, I would have gladly kept him here, far away from those bastards. But I—”

“You didn’t have to make it so easy for them to torment him!” she said, her eyes blazing. “They hurt his friends and you just let it happen!”

I clenched my jaw, trying to remain calm after those accusations. “You’re being irrational.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, still enraged at me. “And you don’t care what happens to anyone else, so long as you get your dick wet, do you?”

“Mal can fuck who he wants, Jenny,” Surge reminded her. “You’re all adults, with no monogamy claim.”

“Stand down, Jenny,” Discord growled at her.

Longshot stood, looking annoyed with the entire conversation.

“None of this matters. Only Illiapol matters. Every detail of the trial will determine the fates of you two—” he glanced from Tiger, to Jenny, “—and possibly ours as well, once they realize we’ve been training you.

So if you could all focus on what matters right now, we can sort out the rest of your issues later. ”

But Jenny wasn’t ready to let it go. “He’s being an asshole—”

Tiger stood abruptly. “That is enough.”

“See?” Jenny snapped at me.

“I’m talking to you , Jenny,” Tiger clarified.

She blinked in confusion. “What?”

“I don’t need you to defend me. I can take care of myself,” he said, then stormed out of the dining hall.

Jenny jumped up from her seat and chased after him. “Wait!”

“No!” Tiger said, his voice hard.

“Tiger, stop, please!”

The rest of us at the table remained quiet, but we could still hear the two of them, their voices echoing from down the hall.

“I don’t need you to defend me, Jenny,” he said again, more heated this time. “And I definitely don’t need you picking fights with Mal because you’re still pissed we fucked, especially when the thought of him fucking me while I’m inside you got you off this morning. Who’s the hypocrite now?”

His footsteps retreated. Hers didn’t follow.

Desire slammed through me like a wave as those words settled in my brain. The image alone was almost too much—her pinned between us, him inside her, me inside him, tangled heat and submission. I nearly groaned out loud. Gods help me.

It was quite the fantasy, but until she no longer loathed me, it would never happen.

Jenny marched down the hall in the other direction, passing the entry of the dining hall on her way. Her face was flushed, her fists balled at her sides, her heels clacking sharply on the marble flooring.

I turned to my friends. Each wore a different expression: judgment, curiosity, silent warning. I didn’t care.

“Eat without me,” I said, standing.

I left the dining hall, grabbing a bottle of whickler from the cellar on the way to find Jenny. I didn’t have to search long. I found her on the balcony that overlooked the west orchard, her figure silhouetted in moonlight. I opened the door and stepped out to join her.

“Tiger, I’m—” She whirled around and saw me, instead, “Oh. It’s you.” Her voice deflated as she faced back toward the orchard.

The breeze played with her hair, those striking blue streaks tumbling over her shoulders. The red dress she’d worn for supper clung to her hips, the hem grazing her thighs. She looked like a dream—fierce and utterly untouchable—but she wasn’t here for my fantasy.

I held out the bottle as an offering as I approached her. “Whickler?”

She eyed me warily. “What is it?”

I stopped beside her, grateful she’d allowed me even this close. “The foundational drink that helped humans invent whiskey.”

That caught her attention. “What do you mean?”

I took a chance and smiled. “We’ve been visiting Earth for centuries. Did no one tell you?”

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the bottle. I uncapped the top and handed it to her.

She took a drink, looking surprised. “That’s quite good. Reminds me of home.” She smiled briefly, before she remembered she was angry with me.

I leaned against the railing, staring at her face. “You remind me of someone, Jenny.”

She huffed out a sardonic laugh. “Know a lot of humans, do you?” She passed the bottle back to me.

“No, not that.” I took a swig before meeting her gaze again. “Every culture has its myths, I suppose, and one of ours is of Eritrolla the Brave. She had blue hair like yours, but that’s not why you remind me of her.”

She remained quiet, listening, and I took advantage of her silence.

“She was the only one in her village to stand up to Uvor the Blessed, a monster who slaughtered anyone who got in his way. When she stood in front of him, this tiny thing with nothing but a dagger, he laughed in her face. So did his men. The entire army of killers cackled at her like zerapas.”

She arched a brow. “Zerapas?”

“Carnivorous beasts,” I explained. “Who laugh while they eat children.”

“Charming.”

I ignored the sarcasm in her voice. “The point is—she let them laugh. While they did, her people lit fires at the edge of the army’s line.

No one noticed the oil in the dry grass.

By the time the carriages ignited, their laughter turned to screaming.

Eritrolla drove her dagger into Uvor’s gut and pulled it out through his throat. ”

Jenny grimaced. “Why was he called Uvor the Blessed’?”

“He told everyone the gods had chosen him, and most believed him. Most everyone feared divine punishment if they stood against him.”

“But not Eritrolla,” Jenny guessed.

I smiled. “No. Not her.”

She tried to hide it, but her perpetual scowl toward me cracked with the edges of a smile. “She was a hero of yours?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Underdogs,” she said. “That’s what we call them on Earth. Someone that everyone believes has little chance of winning.”

“Strange name, but yes, those were always my favorite stories. The ones where the unlikely survive.”

She hesitated for a moment, digesting what I’d just told her. Then, a glimmer of hope entered her eyes. “So you think I’m like Eritrolla? That I’ll win Illiapol?”

“I believe you can,” I said, meaning it.

She stared out toward the orchard, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nice to hear that.”

“You doubt yourself?” I could hear it in her voice, and a part of me felt responsible for my role in making her feel that way because of the things I’d said to her last night in the lab. None of them true.

“I don’t know what to think,” she said, sounding a bit depressed. “Not about anything. Not anymore.”

I took another drink of the whickler, then passed the bottle to her. Our fingers brushed, and heat and awareness flared between us in that single touch.

“What do you think about me?” I dared to ask.

She laughed, the sound diminishing any last remnants of her anger toward me. “You had to make my existential panic about you?”

I leaned in, voice low and teasing. “I’ve been told I’m a good distraction.”

“You’re arrogant,” she said, then her tone softened. “Handsome. Brooding. Sexy. Troubled…but not without cause. And cute, when you’re not trying to be.”

I grinned at her. “You may be the first person to call me cute.”

“Well, you are.” Her smile lingered longer this time. “What do you think about me? Besides comparing me to your mythic hero.”

“Need there be more?”

She playfully knocked her hip into mine. “Come on. I told you.”

“I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth,” I said, setting the bottle of whickler on a nearby table then turning toward her. “And it thrills me.”

She went quiet, her gaze fixed on mine.

“I think you’re the most beautiful—and fiercest—woman I’ve ever seen,” I said honestly.

A small frown furrowed her brows. “But…I’m just a human .”