Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Perhaps in more ways than one, considering that Sarya’s search for him brought her here, where she could heal.
Bannin glanced through the remaining medals but didn’t ask about them. Instead he closed the lid, leaned back and took up his mug.
And that bulge was still bulging.
She gulped her cider and ignored the heat in her cheeks when Bannin settled deeper into his chair, as if he knew she was looking and he wanted to give her more to see.
His eyes gleamed when her gaze rose to meet his. “Now that you’ve had a taste of me, maybe you’re rethinking a courtshi—”
A terrified whinny split the night. Bannin bolted to his feet, sloshing cider over his chest. Heart thundering, Sarya snatched up her sword. She was aware of Bannin grabbing his axe and his feet pounding behind hers as they raced out into the chill air.
He’d brought the lamp, too. Quick thinking, as the night was so dark. Yet Sarya didn’t need it.
A single word sparked the charm etched into her sword. Her weapon blazed to life, illuminating the clearing around the cottage with a white-hot light.
No demon in sight. And aside from Foggy, everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Swiftly she moved to the barn. The door was still locked, the walls intact. A brief glance inside told her that despite the stallion’s agitation, the animals were unharmed. She calmed Foggy with a murmur, gaze sweeping the forest surrounding her glen. Unease shivered down her spine. The demon could be there now, undetected among the trees. Watching. Waiting for them to turn their backs.
“Sarya,” Bannin said, his voice grim.
He stood in the shadows beside the cottage, still holding her lamp. As Sarya approached, her sword provided brighter illumination and revealed dozens of bones, some with bits of flesh still clinging to them, scattered carelessly on the ground.
Her stomach lurched. “Fas Lergin?”
Or what was left of him.
Jaw tight, Bannin nodded.
The crickets began chirping again, followed by the familiar croaking frogs. Those sounds likely meant the demon had gone…but only after they’d discovered the bones. As if it had waited to see their reactions. Was it taunting them with Fas Lergin’s remains—or perhaps threatening them? Had it hoped to witness their fear?
It wasn’t fear that Sarya felt. It wasn’t fear that she saw burning in Bannin’s gaze.
It was fury.
“We hunt it tomorrow?” she asked, though the only true question was the ‘we.’ Regardless of what Bannin did, Sarya would be stalking the woods come the morn.
“We hunt it,” he confirmed.
Chapter 4
Bannin the Nimble
After a near sleepless night, dawn came too blasted early and brought with it a little goat that mistook Bannin’s toe for a teat. Which wasn’t so bad. The gods knew, he’d had worse things suck on different parts of him. He opened his eyes just long enough to make sure there wasn’t anything else about to nibble his bits, then let his head drop back to the pile of hay he’d bedded down on.
After burying Fas Lergin’s remains, they’d both ended up sleeping out in the barn. Sarya, to protect her horse and other animals. Bannin, to protect her. Not that he’d said so. Instead he’d claimed that he would help her look after the animals, too.
Apparently the goats appreciated his help. More than Sarya did, anyway, considering that she wasn’t licking his toes. Oh now, there was an image. With his forearm flung across his eyes, Bannin wallowed in a fantasy featuring Sarya’s pink tongue until the hard response of his cock was followed by the insistent consequence of the cider he’d drunk the night before.
Blast it all. Although the horse and goats pissed inside the barn, Sarya might think less of him if he did.
Blearily he stumbled his way out to the latrine. The biting air had him well awake by the time he returned to the barn, where he found Sarya shoving a squawking chicken into a crate and looking as tired as he’d felt a few minutes before.
In spite of the shadows under her eyes, she was a lovely sight. She’d traded her thin nightshirt for warm trousers and a woolen tunic, yet the bulky clothing couldn’t conceal the elegance of her every movement, even while wrestling with outraged fowl.
His gaze lingered on the sword she’d strapped to her back. Given the way she moved, her choice of weapon was no surprise. Some warriors—such as Bannin—were akin to battering rams that pounded an enemy until it splintered apart. Other warriors approached a battle as if it were a dance, and the enemy was defeated because it couldn’t keep up with the steps. Clearly Sarya was that sort of warrior.
So if Bannin hoped to win her heart, he’d have to be more nimble than he usually was. She’d dance right out of the path of a battering ram.
Just as she’d always done, he realized. Because a battering ram was exactly how he’d always approached her before, overwhelming her with stories he’d hoped would impress her—and flirting every chance he got, hoping for an invitation to her bed. So maybe he’d try for subtle instead. Though he hardly knew what subtle looked like.