JG: That's right: I really love you. rolls my eyes Haha…of course I gave him back! I couldn't possibly kill him again! I'm surprised no one had my head on a silver platter after the ending of Remember You. Haha. Barbie: I don't know what brought him back (but I'm guessing the warriors). I just couldn't keep him dead! Chosen: gasps You would give your sister to Tribune just like that? How could you! Keys: I promise no one important will die. pouts Taya: Many dangers a wait! (Are you and the guy hooked up, yet?) Brainfear: Sorry for the long wait! Thanks for reviewing! Courtney: I killed him off once and that was enough for me! Thanks for the review! You mind if I call you Courtney from now on?
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Chapter Eight
Thorns
Trekking through the thick underbrush of the Amazonian jungle, Marguerite swatted at the mosquitoes feeding from her once creamy smooth flesh. "Little bastards," she grumbled, smashing one of the larger insects with the palm of her hand. The mashed corpse splattered across her elbow; and the heiress, scowling with disgust, wiped it away vigorously.
Paying more attention to the swarm of miniature vampires than her surroundings, Marguerite wandered into an interweaving of vines. She winced as the thorns clutched her locks of curly hair. She heard a deep rumble of laughs behind her and she fumed. "You going to be an ass or are you going to do the gentlemanly thing and help me!"
Roxton stepped forward and gently began the slow, careful process of untangling her from the nature's vicious plant. "Hold still, Marguerite," he scolded as the woman grew impatient and attempted to pry herself out of the snag; only to get more stuck. "Do you want out or not? I can't help you if you don't hold still."
"Damn it, Roxton. This is all your fault!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Care to enlighten the rest of the class, Miss Krux?"
"If you hadn't thrown that T-rex manure at me then, none of this would've happened."
Roxton dropped his hands, opting to fold them across his chest. "Marguerite, don't play this silly game with me. I can play just as well as you. If you want to get petty then, it is actually your fault. You're the one who ruined the crop to begin with. And then you wouldn't even help fix it! Instead, you stood there taunting me with your coy smile and teasing words, refusing to lift even a finger to help."
"I did no such thing!"
Roxton rolled his eyes, but it was pointless for she couldn't see his exasperated expression with her back turned to him. "You're impossible sometimes."
"Fine. Ok. I'm impossible. Now will you please get me out of this," she demanded. "I can feel a thorn digging into my scalp."
Roxton sighed and set about releasing her from the prickly vines. "Why can't you ever just admit it?"
"Admit what?"
"Anything! Admit that you're wrong. Admit that you're sorry. Admit that you're being absolutely obstinately squalid!"
"My, what big words for such a…" she clamped her mouth shut, clenching her teeth.
"At least you caught yourself this time." He freed the last remaining strands of hair. "But you know what bothers me the most? That you can never admit any of these things even to yourself." He tenderly turned her around. "You can't even admit your true feelings to your own heart."
She opened her mouth then closed it. She built up her walls before huffing: "I don't know what you're taking about."
"Yes you do, but you're going to go right on denying it. Just like you deny everything else just so you don't have to deal with any raw, honest emotion."
"Oh, right, and where did you get your Psyche degree again?"
"Even a fool can see that you've entrapped yourself into a bushel of thorns."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean," she snapped defensively.
"You've set up so many booby traps around your heart that anyone who tries to get near has to face being sliced apart by your harsh, cold, and piercing thorns. And maybe everyone else has given up, but when are you going to realize that no matter how many times I get cut, I am going to keep reaching?"
"That's all very poetic and romantic, but you're preaching to the wrong crowd. I don't give a damn about…ahh," she shrieked, leaping forward and colliding into the Lord. A sharp sting tore through her leg and she cried out again.
Roxton caught her and wrapped his arms around her, frightened. "Marguerite!" He peered down into the tall grass and gasped. Keeping a cautious eye on the fierce snake posing for another strike, Roxton scooped the screaming Marguerite up into his arms. As she withered in pain, he stood perfectly still. Any sudden moves on his part and the snake would lash out. Yet, as Marguerite's pain intensified, she began to squirm in agony, drawing the attention of the snake.
Roxton acted quickly. He made a break for it, dashing off to the left as swiftly as he could. The snake snapped forward, its fangs tearing into his pants. He kicked ferociously, flinging the snake a few feet away and then – without a moment's hesitation – rushed full speed away, Marguerite's cries turning into wails.
End Chapter Eight
Sorry this took me so long. If you're curious then, please go read my notes on my author's page. I don't feel like explaining it over and over. Thanks.