being “fit to be tied.”
Pacing through the meadow, he absently gathered handfuls of blackberries that were just ripening as well a few of the more tender leaves that he dipped in fresh honey. Like most Sylvermyst, he was a vegetarian who preferred his meal directly from nature, although his brute strength came from the blood of his enemies.
But satisfying his physical hunger did nothing to ease his frustration.
It was insane.
After centuries of being enslaved by a vicious bitch, the last thing he should want was to be at the mercy of another female. Especially one who couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to lick him to paradise or rip out his throat.
Psycho women should be on his list of things to kill not on his list of those to get in his bed with all possible speed.
So why wasn’t he getting on with his business? He knew better than anyone that as long as the child remained with Tearloch there was the danger that the Dark Lord would be returned. The clock was ticking, and he couldn’t afford to waste a second.
Instead, he was pacing the meadow and imagining a dozen different scenarios, all of which included Jaelyn injured or captured or ...
A frigid chill swept through the air, sending a flood of sharp relief through his body, closely followed by a ready male response to the potent womanly scent that filled his senses.
Precisely the two reactions he didn’t want, dammit.
He turned to watch as she stepped into the meadow, his heart squeezing at the mere sight of her.
Gods, but she was beautiful.
She’d showered while she was gone. Her silken hair was still damp and it glowed as glossy as a raven’s wing in the moonlight despite being wrenched into a tight braid. She’d also changed, although the stretchy bits of black cloth did nothing to lower his blood pressure. To top it off she’d matched the sexy ensemble with a brand-spanking-new sawed-off shotgun, which she’d strapped to her slender waist with a belt lined with cartridges.
Holy ... shit.
Beautiful didn’t come close to capturing the sight of her drenched in moonlight.
She halted next to Levet, who was perched in the low branches of a tree, and with one smooth motion she tossed a sack into his stubby arms.
“Food?” The miniature beast sighed in pleasure. “Ah, you are an angel.”
Ariyal snorted. “You just consumed an entire deer.”
“There is always room for cake.”
He was distracted from the smirking gargoyle as Jaelyn turned to toss him a second sack.
“What’s this?”
“Clean clothes.”
He lifted his brows, sensing her hidden anticipation. He was almost afraid to check and see what she’d brought for him. Then his enjoyment at her unexpected playfulness was destroyed as he noticed the faint color that stained her cheeks.
She’d obviously fed. And the mere thought of her fangs buried in some stranger’s throat was enough to send a raw burst of fury through him.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?”
She stiffened, futilely attempting to scurry behind the icy dignity that he detested. Thankfully his ability to annoy her overcame her brutal training and she moved forward to punch him in the center of the chest.
He would take a broken rib to her clamping down her emotions any day of the week.
“Oh for God’s sake,” she hissed. “I went to the nearest hospital and raided their blood supply. Can we move on to something more interesting than my dietary habits?”
He grasped her wrist, using her blow to tug her off balance.
“Come with me,” he urged as she tumbled against his chest, his arms automatically wrapping around her slender body.
“Where?”
“There’s a stream hidden by the trees.” His gaze dipped toward her full lips, his feral satisfaction at the knowledge she hadn’t taken another man’s vein pounding through his blood. “You can wash my back.”
The scent of her desire spiked the air before she was roughly shoving him away.
“I just showered.”
He smiled, breathing deeply of her enticing arousal. “What’s your point?”
With a deliberate motion she allowed her fingers to caress the hilt of her shotgun.
“You can wash your own damn back.”
Ariyal reached to brush his thumb along her lower lip. “So cruel.”
“Be happy I haven’t stuck a dagger in it yet,” she muttered, turning to stomp away.
Resisting the suicidal urge to toss her over his shoulder and haul her to the privacy of the woods, Ariyal contented himself with the absolute certainty that she wanted him as he headed to the stream. The Addonexus might have done their best to mold her into ruthless executioner without