Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
It’s why, although I’m exhausted as I enter my tent after a long day of death and brutality, I’m already yearning for the next day. Starting now, without the clanging of weapons and the screams of pain, it’s Zora who I’ll think of all night. I don’t even have any immortal-strength liquor to dull my senses, although I could easily pop into another dimension for some.
I choose not to because I’m a glutton for punishment.
A servant opens the flap to my tent and gives a low bow. “General… would you like your bath first or a meal?”
“Bath,” I say, moving to a chest sitting beside a pile of rugs and furs that serves as my bed. I remove my thick cloak and drape it over a chair. A’buston is in the midst of a strong winter and while the snow and sleet don’t bother me, I have to appear as if it does.
As servant after servant comes in, each carrying a bucket of hot water to fill the copper tub in one corner of the tent, I remove the rest of my clothes. Frowning, I notice a slice through the leather of my vest that reached my skin. The blood is crusted and the wound will be healed by the end of my bath. Fully naked now, I pour a metal tankard of ale to quench my thirst and turn around as the last of the hot water is dumped into the tub.
The woman standing there holding the empty bucket is beautiful—a camp whore who has offered herself to me on more than one occasion.
“Would you like anything else, General?” Her eyes roam over my body, right down to my cock, which has a mind of its own. It doesn’t mind her attention and starts to thicken under her bold appraisal.
She’s fucking ripe for the taking, and gods know I’d feel better if I took her, but I find myself shaking my head. “Not tonight.”
A pout makes her even prettier and I almost reconsider, but then images of Zora flood my mind and I know I can’t do it. My hand squeezes the tankard, crushing the metal easily.
Fuck Zora for making my life miserable.
“That will be all,” I say, dropping the lump of pewter and moving to the tub. The woman leaves silently and I settle into the hot water with a sigh. I waste no time in washing, using a fancy bar soap left by my attendants on my skin and hair. Within the privacy of my tent, I use my magic to drain the tub and refill it with clean water so hot, it would melt the skin off most. I lean my head back on the edge of the tub, close my eyes and consider my dilemma. I figure in about a thousand years I might be able to put the frustrating god of Life out of my mind.
It more than chafes that she’s fucked up my head, especially since I was very happy living a non-monogamous lifestyle for a few millennia. It’s also a ding to my pride that I was hurt by her rejection of my feelings. I’m a fucking demigod and nothing should hurt me.
A cold breeze wafts over me along with a brightening of my tent, and I open my eyes to see who has opened the flap to enter. I’d assumed possibly the camp whore to attempt another seduction, but there’s no one there.
I sit up slightly, look around my tent, and my heart stops when I see Zora standing near the maps table.
She’s dressed as a camp follower in cheaply woven material with a long cloak over her shoulders. It’s a disguise so she can walk freely among people and observe, but there’s no hiding the fact she’s not a normal person. Not with that white hair and those magical multicolored eyes.
Zora doesn’t look at me but studies the maps. I settle back down into the water and wait for her to say something. I feel her nervousness. I know she’s here for conversation but I also know that such things are difficult for her. She’s always bottled up tight.
Finally, she turns my way, holding her hands before her. “How goes your war?”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Is that really what you want to know?”
She lifts her chin, looking down at me with slight irritation. “Yes. I might have something I want you to do for me.”
“Ahh,” I say with a knowing nod. “You’re here in an official capacity. Well, I’ll be involved in this war for several more weeks. Perhaps you should try another demigod.”
“I don’t want another demigod,” she says, and I can’t tell if there’s any innuendo in those words.
The fact that there could be—that she’s insinuating she wants me not for work, but in an intimate way—stirs my cock again, and this time not in half-hearted interest.