lift my gaze as he tosses me an apple. Instinct has me ducking my head while throwing my arm out to catch it. It hits my palm dead on, and I’m rather proud of the small feat of impossibility. No one seems to notice, so I bite into the fleshy fruit, juice filling my mouth. Stone is sharing the food from his backpack, which is mainly dried meat and fruit, along with a large flask of water and a bottle of wine.
Everyone takes their portions and passes the rest around as the five of us sit around the fire. I have my bag on the ground behind me, my large coat underneath me as a blanket as I cross my legs. I lift the bottle and uncork it, then take several mouthfuls, not realizing how thirsty I am until then.
“So, Narah,” Stone begins. “You’re very different from another Cursed I met back home.” His observation draws everyone’s attention to me.
They’ve known other Cursed? I meet Stone’s eyes, which seem to glint against the fire. “How so?” I’m curious to hear more about half-breeds, as I’ve never met another aside from my mother and sister.
“She would constantly threaten to turn all men into rodents if they didn’t do as she asked. It worked at first, as people were scared, you see, but she made one fatal mistake.”
I’m hanging off his every word. “What’s that?”
“She assumed no one would harm her because she started fucking the pack Alpha. But in the end, the second in command killed her with his bare hands when she insisted she was untouchable.” He takes a swig of wine from the bottle near his feet. “But you don’t even show us the extent of your powers, so what are we to assume? That you are being modest?”
I swallow and collect myself enough to wonder if this whole time he was setting me up, while my mind swirls on what he’s told me. This Cursed was sleeping with Ragnar’s father? I refocus on Stone. “So what you’re saying is that no one is untouchable. Not Cursed and not Alphas, right? And you’re right about me being different. If I lived in a place where Cursed were not hated, I might be more open about it, so my decisions have nothing to do with modesty and everything to do with survival.”
Stone stares at me, lost for words, it seems, and when I look over to Ragnar, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he just sits back, observing us.
I lower my attention to my meal and start eating while the three men fall into a conversation about zombies. Mostly it revolves around the method with which they would kill them. I tune out after Crius says, “I’ll chop mine up then watch it squirm on the ground.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or just trying to have the grossest answer. Instead, I let the fire warm me and stay quiet, just like Ragnar. He’s sitting to the side of me, his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. He’s built and solid, towering over me, taller than his men, but something about him now makes him seem normal. Not a warring Viking, but someone reserved and deep in thought.
What’s strange is that a tingle erupts in the pit of my stomach when I look at him. As if sensing me, he turns his head in my direction and the fire reflects in his eyes, along with indecision warring on his face.
I’m not sure I want to find out what bothers him so much, so instead I shuffle to get comfortable on the hard ground. I tuck my bag under my head as a pillow and pull my coat over me. Closing my eyes, I block out the men’s chatter while my instincts have me listening for strange sounds. For anything sneaking up on us. Of course, there’s only the crackle of fire, but I can’t shake off the unease.
Exhaustion sweeps over me, the warmth relaxing, and my eyes slide close as I fade away.
When twigs snap, I flip open my eyelids and find Ragnar, Stone, and Crius lying by the fire, fast asleep.
Had I passed out that quickly? The fire still burns brightly when another crunch of a branch comes, and I lift my head to see a figure walking away from camp and going deeper into the woods.
Nikos?
8
Narah
My sight sets on Nikos, who walks away from our camp and blends into the shadows of