We’re done with the snow, done with the rot, and back in our own kingdom. Now we just have to get to the Brack—Brackhill Castle and capital—and they can finally fucking take a break and go home to their families after being gone for these long months. Definitely a morale boost.
I’m sitting around one of the large campfires with a bunch of the soldiers, listening to the right and left flanks talking shit to each other, not even suppressing my smirk.
“Judd and Lu would be proud,” Ryatt says next to me. “Their rivalry is going strong.”
“Good way to pass the time.”
Ryatt nods, head turning to the group playing music just to the left of us, Keg right there in the center of them. Behind us, the horses are grazing, a skimpy clump of trees offering shelter at our backs.
As I take a swig of some shitty wine that Himinn brought me, my mind strays to Rissa.
Been doing that a lot lately.
She fucking kissed me. It was weeks ago now, but ever since, I’ve been feeling like a damned animal in a rut. I’ve caught her scent, tasted her mouth, and every time I’m around her—or even when I’m not—I’m thinking about grabbing her lush ass, pinning her up against the nearest tree, and fucking that temper right out of her.
But her head’s not in it yet, so I’ve been giving her space.
Her body sure as shit is. There’s no denying the way her eyes dilate or the way her cheeks go all fucking cute and pink when she’s around me. But body responses don’t equal consent. I want her fierce temper to unfold into a wanton hellion as she comes around my cock, clawing at my back with demands because shewantsit.
The fact that she ran away like her ass was on fire after she kissed me, and the fact that she didn’t leave her tent for the following two days, told me she wasn’t really ready.
I meant what I said—I’d never take advantage of a woman. We’ve got a pull, no doubt about it, but my instincts tell me she’s trying to fight against it. I’m not going to lie, a fancy woman like herself is definitely not used to a gruff soldier like me. I’m way too fucking rough around the edges for someone like her, but I want her anyway.
It’s a huge turn-on when she goes toe-to-toe with me. All of the women I’ve had in the past were submissive, and I liked that. But the fire in Rissa heats my blood like never before, makes me picture all the ways she would take what I gave her and deal it back tenfold. Arguing would be our foreplay.
But when she didn’t come out of her tent, I had my answer, so I’ve been avoiding her ever since. Not letting myself ride next to her carriage during the day, trying not to look for her every time I walk around camp, keeping my distance.
I still make sure the front of her tent is shoveled and her food is delivered, but I’m just not the one to do it, even though it fucking bothers me. How this woman got under my skin so quickly, I’ll never know.
“Alright, I’m turning in,” Ryatt says as he gets to his feet. “Sick of wearing this fucking helmet.”
“I prefer it. Means I don’t have to look at your ugly mug.”
Even though I can’t see it, I can feel him roll his eyes. “Yeah, fuck off.”
“Just admit that you missed me,” I tell him. “I know that’s why you came back. Using Hojat as an excuse.”
I chuckle when Ryatt flips me off and then walks away in the direction of his tent. The soldiers around him nod deferentially and clear out of the way. Him coming back has been a big morale boost too. Definitely helped to have him here while we crossed over the last of the rot.
I know I should turn in soon too, but I take another drink of wine, listening to Keg and the others strum and blow into their instruments. But when I’m wiping the drink off my beard, I suddenly catch the faint scent of flowers.
Think of the vixen, and she will appear.
I look up as a shadowed silhouette blocks the flames in front of me. The little she-demon stands there in borrowed clothes that swim on her, all but hiding her form beneath my oversized shirt and coat. I could’ve given her someone else’s spare set, like Himinn who’s much closer to her size, but the thought of her wearing any other man’s clothes other than my own sets my teeth on edge.
“Evening, Yellow Bell,” I drawl.
She glares at me, hands on her hips, and then glances around at all the soldiers. I shoot them a look, making them instantly scatter. With a small pocket of privacy now, Rissa sits down on the vacated log the others were sitting on, tucking her legs beneath her.
The brazen woman reaches over and plucks the cup right out of my hand and takes a sip of my wine. A grimace pulls at her face that’s Divine-damned adorable, but I’m more focused on the way her pink tongue slips out and drags across her lips. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she says.
My brows lift. “Thought youwantedme to avoid you.”
She opens and closes her mouth like she’s not sure how to answer. It’s only because of how watchful I am of her that I’ve discovered her tiny tells. She’s got a very good poker face usually. Most people probably wouldn’t notice the way she curls her pointer finger, scraping it against her thigh when she’s anxious. But I do.
“You kissed me, then you left. Figured that meant you didn’t want to repeat the mistake after all,” I say with a smirk as I take the cup back from her, making sure to drink from the same exact spot she just did. The way her eyes darken lets me know that she’s fully aware of it, too.
“Well, itwasa mistake,” she finally replies.
