For a moment it hangs on her lips. Like blood.
“Would have preferred water, but this is really good.”
I can’t form any words. If I say anything, I think I might explode.
The innkeeper barges into the room, along with a witch about the same size and width as him.
“Is this the Bluecap’s mate?” she asks.
“We’re not mates,” Kaitlyn says quickly.
The witch narrows her eyes at my mate, and I growl under my breath at her impudence, making her look at me.
“If you say so.” She chuckles with a brief glance at the innkeeper.
I only tolerate him because he let me kill a trio of Redcaps who were making a nuisance of themselves in his bar area. Ever since then, no matter when I turn up or what state I’m in, for reasons I cannot fathom, he makes me welcome.
He has to be the only creature in the Yeavering who does not dislike me.
His female also puts up with me, her face beaming even as I growl louder.
“I certainly have at least one dress which I can alter to fit you.” She beams at Kaitlyn too. “Stand up so I can have a good look at you.”
“My wife can measure by eye.” The innkeeper has sidled up to me and gives me a slight nudge in my ribs. “Very useful.”
I bare my teeth at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“My Kaitlyn is a human,” I say loudly. “She is not a witch.”
“A human? How wonderful!” the witch says, lifting Kaitlyn’s arms, making me snarl at her touching my female, then she gets her to turn around. “Such a pretty human.”
A warmth I’m not used to blooms in my chest. I have to put my hand over it to make sure I’m not on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time I was on fire. I suspect it won’t be the last.
I am not on fire.
“Is everything okay?” Kaitlyn asks me.
“I’m just checking I’m not on fire,” I explain.
Her little brow dips and her stunning eyes study mine.
“When did you last feed, Mister Linton?” the innkeeper asks me.
I growl deep in my throat. “I don’t recall.”
Kaitlyn puts her hand on my arm. “I’ve seen an awful lot of things in the Yeavering. If you need to eat…feed…whatever, just do it. I won’t judge you. None of us will.” She looks at the innkeeper and the witch.
I wrinkle my nose with a snort.
“Don’t need to feed,” I grumble.
“Okay then.” Kaitlyn removes her hand, and it’s like it’s still there, burning softly to my bones, her brow still squished in those weird lines.
“I have your room all ready,” the innkeeper chimes happily.
He is always happy. I do not understand why.
“Good. My female needs torest,” I say pointedly, ushering Kaitlyn forward.
