The Mercs had impregnated her. Of that, Rona had no doubt. She was knocked up, and her life was never going to be the same.
And yet…
She didn’t feel anxious about it. At least, she hadn’t felt anxious last night when she had drifted off to sleep. On the contrary, she’d felt totally safe and secure, surrounded by the threedeadliest men she had ever met, her body stained and dripping with their seed.
But where were those men now, she wondered. When she reached out her hands to touch them, her fingers only found an empty bed.
That sound again. Steel and stone. Stone and steel.
Shhhk… Shhhk… Shhhk…
Rona threw back the covers and sat up, not caring that she was naked. Her eyes went to the corner of the room, where a massive figure was kneeling in front of a table. He was fully dressed in his tactical vest and pants, and his long golden locks were pulled back in a neat ponytail. Before him on the table stood a small, ornate diptych representing the Pantokrator and Theotokos, and a single tealight candle.
“Zeth?”
“Don’t bother him,” a voice said from the other side of the room. “He’s praying.”
It was Murdok. The big Merc was sitting at a table by the window, working. His back was to Rona, so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but she knew he was the source of the sound.
Shhhk… Shhhk… Shhhk…
Rona wrapped the sheets around her body and climbed off the bed, pulling the excess fabric behind her like the train of a royal gown. She walked over to where Murdok was sitting. His shirt was off, and Rona was able to see his back for the first time. His bulging muscles were covered in scars. Some of them lookedlike battle wounds, but most of them seemed to be deliberate patterns, like the ones on his cock.
Rona’s pussy clenched as she remembered how good he had felt moving inside her, how his monstrous, scarred member had made her come over and over again. Instinctively, she reached a hand out to touch him, but she pulled it back at the last moment.
“It’s alright,” Murdok said without turning around. “You can touch ’em.”
Rona froze.
“How… how did you know?”
“I’ve got eyes in the back of my head,” he answered. “And I’m keepin’ ’em wide open around your stabby little ass.”
Rona almost scowled at that, but she realized with a touch of surprise that she didn’t reallyfeellike scowling. Instead, she reached out and ran her fingers over the thick muscles of Murdok’s back. She used to think she’d had a hard life. Now, feeling all those hard, deep scars, she wasn’t so sure.
Shhhk… Shhhk… Shhhk…
“What are you working on?”
She leaned forward and peered over the Merc’s brawny shoulder. A dirty rag had been spread across the surface of the table, and on top of the rag sat an assortment of whetstones and a small bottle of honing oil. Murdok was using the finest of the stones to put the finishing touches on the blade of a knife.
Herknife.
She watched as Murdok gave the blade a few final strokes, then he held it up to the light and tested the edge with his thumb.
“Not quite as good as new,” he said. “Had to grind the blade down to bring the point back.”
He tossed the knife and caught it deftly by the blade. Then he offered it to Rona, handle first. She took it and studied the blade. The last time she’d seen it, the tip had been broken off from when she’d tried to stab Zeth. Now, the point had been restored. The overall length of the blade was slightly shorter than before, but the difference was barely noticeable. She felt the dull throb of tears behind her eyes, and it took all of her willpower to hold them back.
“You did this… for me?” she asked.
Murdok nodded.
“Why?”
“Because you’re a crazy little bitch who likes to start shit, and you need a good knife to protect yourself.”
“I ought to stab you for that,” she said with a smile.
