When she’d last been in Oz with Tin and the others, he’d been quiet and sulky, but nothing like this. It was as though he was jaded now. And when his stone heart had become a live, beating organ, he’d even cracked a smile at her before she’d left. That perfect smile had remained with her while back in Kansas, the one she’d always sworn to herself that she’d see again. There were no smiles now.
He’d told her Lion needed her. If she couldn’t get answers from Tin tonight, well, she’d leave him behind and go find her other friend. She wasn’t going to waste her time here. And maybe once she found Lion, he could tell her where Crow was.
“Sorry, Tin, you can catch up with me if you so desire,” she whispered to herself, and made way for the door, this time keeping her feet silent.
Only, she found the door locked when she tried to turn the knob. She narrowed her eyes with the discovery that it needed a key to exit from inside. Her gaze drifted back to the sleeping fae.
She’d seen him stow his axe—his prized possession—beneath the pillow, but nothing else. Her one chance of leaving had to be on his body, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t hand it over to her willingly.
Dorothy tiptoed back to the bed, her eyes lingering on the rise of his naked chest where a portion of his cloak had slipped away. No key would be found there. In fact, she didn’t know how he wasn’t getting chilly with all that exposed skin in the cold room.
Reaching forward, she softly padded her hands down the sides of his cloak, finding only emptiness. As her eyes drifted to his pants, her face heated at where her hands would have to venture next.
Taking a deep swallow that felt too loud in her ears, she slipped her fingertips inside his right pocket. Ah-ha. Something metal brushed along her digits. Just as she was about to pull it out, two firm and warm hands grasped both her wrists, preventing her escape.
“I don’t think so,” Tin growled in a low whisper.
Before she could respond, her fingers were ripped from his pocket—key long gone from her grasp—and her body shoved up against his with an arm planted at her waist. All ‘snug and cozy,’ except she knew his intentions were anything but.
“Apparently,” he murmured by her ear, his breath warm and tickling her nape, “you’re not to be trusted. Goodnight.”
There was no goodnight.
Grunting, she wiggled and tried to roll over to face him, but he was too strong. So she settled on talking to the grimy windowpane instead of his face. “Before, you mentioned that Lion needs me. I think we should go now. No need to sleep.”
He didn’t answer. If anything, he seemed to hold onto her tighter.
Huffing, she turned her head over her shoulder, unable to see anything in the dark now that the moonlight had shifted. “Can you at least answer why we need to stay here?”
He exhaled with agitation, and even without seeing him, she knew he was scowling. “I don’t think you want to venture out into Oz at this time of night. As I said, things aren’t as they once were.”
She’d traveled through the night before. The last time she was here, she remembered holding on to Crow’s hand for a good bit of the journey. He may not have been able to talk very clearly most of the time, but she’d felt closest to him, like he was her protector. As for Tin, there’d been a different feeling about him, one she hadn’t been able to name back then, one she was no longer feeling now. And Lion, while being a big baby, had done the best he could.
Dorothy wished she hadn’t dropped her shotgun on the way into the portal. She wished she had Toto who would bark and scare the things of this world. But now it was only her and this man who wasn’t really a man at all.
“Tell me why then,” she said. “Why can’t we leave now?”
He didn’t answer.
“Tin.” She hated that his name came out more of a plea.
“Stop saying that.”
“What?” Her brows lowered in confusion. “Your name?”
“Calling me by name would mean we’re friends, and we’re not that. Not anymore.”
“But—”
He let out a grumble as if he was warring with himself before he finally added, “If we left now, you’d have wished you stayed, so trust me on this. I told you earlier, there are night beasts here.”
Dorothy couldn’t help wanting to spew out more questions about what kind of night beasts, but he was already asleep again. Something told her to listen to him, especially when crackling sounds outside stirred. She lifted her head an inch and listened. It wasn’t the chanting of the munchkins in song—dwarves—it was something far more sinister. Low growls and gurgles seemed to swarm the town. It must be the night beasts Tin mentioned.
A shiver ran up her spine and she closed her eyes, curling closer into Tin, even though she should have moved farther away. As the sounds grew louder and louder, she was grateful the bed was far too narrow for him to push her away. He may not consider her a friend anymore, but she still considered him one as she remembered his smile to her, from long ago, once more.
Her farm was no longer hers, and regardless of the changes to this place, she wanted to stay in Oz. Same as the last time she was here, she would make things better again. How bad could it truly be?
A yawn escaped her and her eyes fluttered before she drifted off to sleep, pressed tightly against Tin’s arm.
Something hard nudged Dorothy’s shoulder. “Sleeping,” she said, knowing it was Tin. He’d had his terms last night on when to sleep. This time, things would be on her terms of when to wake up.
The nudge came again, harder than before. She flicked open her eyes, meeting that of a bare chest with a few pale scars running up it. Tin’s chest was firm and ripped, and nothing like Jimmy’s flat chest and stomach. She quickly tore her gaze away and focused on the wooden handle of the axe poking at her arm.
Narrowing her eyes, she drifted her gaze up to Tin’s face, catching on his silver irises. He was scowling at her, and she found herself unsurprised by his expression.
“You could have just said, ‘Dorothy, it’s time to leave.’ You know, like a gentleman would do.”
“I’m no gentleman.” Tin tugged his shirt on and placed his cloak around his shoulders.
“That you aren’t,” she muttered and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching her hands up, and arching her back forward to pop it. The farm work the day before had done a number on her body. The sky out the window appeared bright, and whatever beastly noises had erupted through the night were gone now.
“What are you doing?” Tin asked, observing her as if she was a species he’d never seen before.
“Can I not stretch for a moment?”
“No,” he grunted, turning around and heading for the door.
Rolling her eyes, she hurried after him as he unlocked it with a silver key.
“What’s for breakfast?” she asked as she followed him down the narrow hallway with its bare, sickly-green walls, to the stairs on the first floor. The room stood empty except for a dwarf with spiraled gray hair, seated at the front desk.
“Whatever you find on the way.” Tin didn’t look back at her as he slammed the key down in front of the dwarf.
“Hi, I’m—”