“You look young. And human.”
She tensed her fingers. Could he smell her? “Yes.”
“How have you survived when no one else in Prayer did?”
“I do not know,” she lied.
He crouched, placing his hands on his knees, and looked hard at her. “Yes you do, little hag.”
“Am I little now?” She turned to the pot, but he caught her hair, bunching it up into his hand and forcing her to face him. A strange sensation shot through her where her hair connected with her scalp, and that sensation traveled down her flesh, making the hairs on her arms and legs rise. She didn’t like it when he controlled her movements, but her body responded otherwise. It confused her, intrigued her.
He leaned in closer. “How have you survived?”
“Does it matter so much?”
His grip on her hair tightened mercilessly, making her neck strain and stretch. “You’re right, it does not matter.”
Her belly sank, his words hurting her despite her wish for him to back off. He let go of her, furthering her sudden disappointment. Rattled and uncaring that he watched her, she ran her hands up and down her arms where her gooseflesh remained. When the sensation faded, she ran her fingers through her hair and loosened it back up.
Calavia rolled her neck and checked on the stew. She knew he watched her every move. That he was waiting for her to do something that would increase his distaste of her. She didn’t want him to hate her, but also didn’t want to know him past his abilities and how they would be of use in protecting her. She wanted him for nothing else...at least she hoped she wanted nothing else from him. Calavia kept her gaze away from where his hardened muscles moved and where his scars begged to be explored.
She found two bone bowls and scooped out stew for both of them, offering him the one with a larger portion. “Here. It’s not much, but it’s warm.”
The bowl hung between them as she waited for him to accept it. Her mother taught her offering food was akin to camaraderie if both parties were of apt mind, but as the bowl lingered in her hand far longer than she expected, she began to second-guess her actions.
Do minotaurs share food?Was there something she wasn’t aware of?
When he finally took the bowl from her, she swallowed, further shaken as his long fingers brushed against her own, returning the warmth to her body.
“Eat,” he ordered as she continued to stare up at him, pressing her hand into the folds of her skirt and rubbing the feel of his touch out of them. He moved to take the other bowl from her hand and force her, but she turned to the side to stop him, lifting the side of it to her mouth.
His angry gaze caught her own as she swallowed, and he raised his own bowl and gulped the entire meal in one go.
Not one trickle of broth escaped his mouth. Her lips parted behind her bowl, shielding her shock.
“Are you certain they are coming?” he asked.
“Yes. I can sense their intentions, but I can see them, too.”
He nodded. “My mother could as well through reading bones. Wax?”
“Yes, I can use my wax.” She pulled out a small stone’s worth from her pocket.
“Show me.”
Calavia finished up her meal and took his empty bowl from him. His fingers did not brush hers, even though she spread hers out to steal another moment of contact with him. She wanted to know if what had happened before would happen again. He denied her the opportunity to explore it, and she frowned before realizing he still watched her.
The heavy weight of his stare was something she needed to get used to.
She just prayed that he was not watching her as closely as she feared.
Chapter Seven
He followed her into her spell room, or chambers, he was not sure as the central altar he had cracked the night before, with the wax and candles upon it, were the only things within it. The temple was not laid out like he had originally thought. Now that he had the chance to look around, there were multiple rooms off the central corridor beyond the secondary hallway that led to the old kitchens and storage rooms. There was a decaying bathhouse with a partially cracked ceiling which made it the brightest room in the gloomy place, but as they went, he saw the shadows of other rooms hidden behind clusters of hanging vines.
Unused spaces.Astegur made a note to check them out later. The hag had many secrets and he was determined to figure them out.
He inhaled as they approached the hag’s altar. Her smell was strongest here. If there was human blood among her supplies, he would know. As the scent of the room filled him, it tickled his nose with pungent herbs and burnt wood. The strange, enticing aroma of human blood was nowhere in the air.
