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I am sure you will heal your neighbor, but if you turn murderer, I have heard that blaming cats can be useful in getting out of it. Hadriel provided that anecdote. I’m not quite sure how it will help get you off the hook, and in truth, at the time he offered the information, he was hanging upside down by one ankle in a costume I am pretty sure was meant to mock me, whilst heavily intoxicated. Nevertheless, it bears looking into.

Since we are on the subject of spelling mistakes, when you hoped I would “bare with you,” it put a very different spin on the meaning. Soon thereafter,

I read your favorite book on that list—the numbers I took to mean the number of times you had read them?

I GIGGLED AS I READ, nodding. He’d figured it out.

EIGHTEEN IS QUITE A LOT. After I read it, though, I think I understand. I’d love to see the physical book you have handled. I assume some pages have seen more wear than others, specifically the scene in which the couple is forced to escape the (rather tame) villain on horseback. I wondered why the author would have them outrun the villain so easily. And then we got the descriptions of his hands slowly gliding up her (milky) thighs and firmly palming her (luscious) breasts, and I began to understand.

I have never made love to a woman on horseback, but I am now desperate to try. The idea of a canter (probably a trot, actually—this author didn’t seem to be an equestrian) pounding my cock deeper and harder into her tight, wet pussy is one I haven’t been able to get out of my mind as I…bare with you. Wouldn’t it be fun to try out the sex scenes explored in detail in the pages of your favorite novels? I wonder if I could give you (<—oops) someone as many orgasms as these heroes give their ladies. Likely not, but I am ever ready to learn. Given our current hopeless situation, I’ll have to continue rigorously fucking myself instead. I seem to be getting worse at it, though, because I’ve been needing to do it more and more frequently. Maybe I should take a break from novels with passion and explore a book about bodies of water instead. Namely, cold baths.

Now who is babbling via parchment…

I TWISTED my legs together and fanned myself. Even when talking about deliciously crude sex scenes, he was well spoken. It was insane. The author of these letters did not sound like the gruff, rough-and-tumble, scarred beast I’d met and constantly fought with. It was like two different people.

Though I did remember the guy from the everlass field. The guy who’d opened up about his mom and easily worked past my angry defenses. That guy was fun to talk with. He was interesting and engaging.

Even that guy, though, hadn’t been this eloquent. He hadn’t sounded this regal. And while normally that might bother me…somehow, right now, it didn’t. He was almost too charming to exist in this twisted version of real life.

IF I HAD TO GUESS, however, the horse-riding scene was not your favorite. Women would usually enjoy the declaration of love from the emotionally stunted hero. But given what I know of you, I wonder instead if it isn’t when the hero falls down into the pit (miraculously without breaking a limb or his head) and the heroine outsmarts the trap and saves him. That sounds more like your speed.

MY GRIN SPREAD WIDER. He had me. That was a pretty epic scene. It was when the hero stopped treating her like she was breakable, and they started working as a team. It made the action more exciting and the sex scenes hotter. Still, the horse-riding scene was a close second. I wasn’t going to lie. I’d also always wanted to try it.

AFTER READING A Journey to Wastrel, I understand why Breakout lost one exclamation point for its lack of romance. Thank you for opening my eyes. I see now that there is always room to squeeze in some fucking. I, myself, need at least some semblance of believable action and villainy. I’m going to say it was very good indeed!!!

Shall I just continue through the list, starting with the books you’ve read most? Or would you like to adjust my next read to account for my (likely subpar) tastes?

As for your next read, I’ve included it here. I’m interested to see what you think of the romance subplot. I’ve also brought you a book on dogs. I find them utterly useless, but I have been told (lately by a very drunk Hadriel) that I am a heartless bastard. However, most shifters do not like dogs, especially wolf shifters, unless they are of a certain power. Your village has the most dogs of all the villages, I believe, and that’s only…five or so, right?

Regarding the connection between us/our animals…

It’s hard to know what to say. You say your animal is a surly cunt? Mine’s a violent prick whom I wish would just fuck off. If it wouldn’t doom the kingdom, I’d shove him so far down that the curse would probably take hold and suppress him as it ought. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t his choice to break the connection, and he’s been driving me mental. But I stand by what I did. You need to be free of me, Finley, for your own good. That’s the only way you’ll get a happy ending. Any idiot can see that. Protecting you means staying away from you. You’ll see the truth of that in time. Until then, we have randy letters and fast, furious self-fucking to get us through our days.

Thank you for the elixirs and healing supplies. I will be passing those on as soon as I study the contents. You say your villagers are dense, but you are there to help them. You have no idea what the other villages are working with. And no, no one crosses between villages. Since the demons killed so many early on, everyone stays separated and with their heads down now. We don’t have the ability to fight back. Only a few sneak out to meet me on a regular basis, always during the day, hoping it goes unnoticed. Lately it has. Hopefully that remains.

“FIRST WE HEAL,” I murmured to myself, “then we’ll have numbers to fight.”

THANK you for looking after me. It means a lot that you’d brave my temper and try to heal me after my treatment of you. Maybe the ointments will stop the flow of scars onto my skin. Though I’m not sure there is much of a point. I am every bit as much of a monster as I appear to be. My days of vanity are long since done.

I would be remiss if I didn’t diligently follow your landscaping demands (you had the use of remiss right). Hadriel and I will begin tearing out the plants you’ve advised, and I’ll ask for more guidance once finished. I’ll have a drawing made up of each stage of our progress to ensure we are on the right track.

By the by, I don’t know whether you’ve discerned as much, but when my father was particularly angry with me, I spent time in that tower bedroom. Sometimes I was locked in there for days with only the servants for company (and they were only allowed to bring me food or bathe me). My mother used

to work in her garden a lot during those times so that I could look down at her and not feel so alone, a service I, apologetically, didn’t render to you. She had the wall constructed around her garden so that my father, passing by in the grass, wasn’t the wiser. It killed me to lock you up in that tower. But I couldn’t risk those demons infiltrating your mind and bending you to their will. I meant to apologize before now, but our discourse always resulted in fighting and then your tits or pussy in my mouth. So, for what it’s worth, I am sorry about that.

Please stay safe. I think my dragon would work out a way to kill me if I let harm come to you.

I look forward to your book recommendations. Your truly,

Dickhead N

I SAT with his letter for a while, not able to ignore my aching heart or the fire in my body. I didn’t think I could compose a letter right now. Not after that. His apology and confession about the tower…

His delicious sexual comments…

His gratitude and the admissions about his dragon… It was all so much to unpack.

I didn’t want to leave him hanging, though. I didn’t want him to think he’d overstepped. I definitely didn’t want to stop this communication. Plus, night was creeping in quickly.

DEAR DESPERATE TO Fuck While Riding a Horse,

I need to get out of here. I just came to drop off more supplies and grab a few crowded plant leaves. I’ll report back later tonight with a more thorough letter. Sleep is for dogs and other creatures you hate for no reason.

Yourssssss truly (this is me pointing out your previous error, in case it is confusing you),

Finley

P.S. My favorite part was definitely when he got stuck in the pit. Do not ruin that scene for me with semantics. It’s fantasy. Sometimes you need a

little make-believe to ensure a horrible fall doesn’t kill the hero so that horse fucking is possible.

P.P.S. Goddess strike me down, I meant fucking on a horse. Definitely a no to horse fucking.

P.P.P.S. I hate this fucking birch.

—Oh and I’ll get that worn-in book for you. It’s a library book, though, so you’ll need to swap it for your copy. Probably for the best, because I have a feeling you’ll be picturing me someone in the scenes and practicing your self-fucking while reading it. I don’t want to subject other book borrowers to your sticky jizz pages.

The end of the letter has now officially come.

I HURRIED AWAY with the new books and letter stored in my knapsack, along with more crowded everlass leaves. I needed to get that book for Nyfain. I also needed to read the ones he’d passed to me. Damn life for getting in the way of my new books!

I wondered what Nyfain would think of the next book on the list. If he’d thought of me in that last one, he’d definitely think of me in the next one. The main couple’s relationship was turbulent, and they always ended up hate- fucking. It was the book I still had at home.

Probably time for a reread.