Fallon wasn't dumb. She knew when she was being pawned off.
“We can find some on the way.” I didn't really understand how this was going to work, but the urgent looks Briggs sent my way meant I couldn't get out of it.
Out into the cold we trudged, Fallon in her layers, us in our fur against the frigid landscape. It was a nice day to be outside, clear and sunny if not warm. Ned loped alongside us and Fallon threw him a stick.
He won't give up now.
I tried to inject some cheerfulness into my mental voice, but it came out leaden. Worry gnawed at me. This was worse than the visit to the Whitewolfs because Honey was here to see.
The beautiful winter day read more like an omen when we met the advanced patrol milling about three figures. Like drops of blood against the snow, the three monks stood out against the landscape and the sunshine. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I kept Honey well away from them. Monks were chew toys as far as I was concerned. The echo of the lash against my fur made me flinch. Memories appeared when I needed them the least, sharpening my teeth and lengthening my claws.
There was no way I wouldn't be between themand my mate, so I ended up at the head of the group despite my resolve. I might have sprayed some snow at them in my stop, just to gauge their reaction. The Brothers of Zophiel would have withheld food for a week for that. They calmly brushed it off, but their expressions were impossible to read in their deep hoods.
Their eerie tranquility was all the more disturbing when the middle monk pulled back his red hood and smiled a wide grin full of square, blindingly white teeth. His bald head and gaunt features screamed of dungeons and blood magic. So worse than the Brothers. They were just mean.
Well, at least it’s not Brad,Fallon said.
Or a Goddess relic making you lose your mind. Or a fight for the Elven throne. No one wanted to do that again.
“Welcome neighbors! Percy, leader of this merry band.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “We came to say hi.” His voice and tone were perfectly normal, which somehow made it creepier coming out of his skull-like head. The robe, the nail belt, the giant ruby ring didn’t inspire confidence.
“And bring cook…”
I shifted to human, making sure I kept my body between them and Honey.
“...ies,” the monk on the right lost her sentence as she drew back her own hood. Her cheeks turned as scarlet as her robe and she brushed a hand over her missing hair.Her eyes glued to my dick in a way that was embarrassing for the first time in my life. I backed up another step, fighting not to retch at her attention.
The other man waved his ringed hand, producing said cookies in a basket from a red-rimmed void.
Ned immediately lunged for them and I had to catch his ruff. The animal had no sense of self-preservation.
“Sit,” I told him, and the lady monk plopped into the dirt before she bounced up again.
“Oh, sorry. The dog.” Her stuttering came out decidedly breathless.
A thread of prickly fire wound through me. Were they trying to work magic on us? I followed the tether back to Fallon, of all people. Her expression amped up to ‘murderous feral bitch face’ and her gaze glued to the female monk still eyeing my goods. Was Honey… jealous?
The tension in the clearing rose as she stepped closer to me, standing next to Briggs. My sensitive hearing caught Fallon whispering urgently to her.
Honey?
They look like the monks who stole Brad from Maggie's dungeon. Same nail belts and red everything.
That perked my ears. The Followers of Virtue, Noth had called them. Anything to do with the maniac that tried to conscript me into a shifter army, kidnap Fallon, and try to steal the Elven throne was a no in my book.
So, hard pass on the cookies then?
Fallon smothered alaugh.
“Won’t you take a cookie? They’re my favorite!” The woman held out the plate with eager, twitching hands.
Honey strode forward.I didn’t bring my meat cleaver.
I bit back my laugh. Well, she did promise to tell me if she suddenly had the urge to kill another woman for me. I stopped myself from hopping from foot to foot. Suddenly, the day looked so much brighter.
I turned to Fallon.Can I have your scarf?
She might have laid on the mate thing a little thick as she sauntered up to me and let her hands roam a bit before handing me the skimpy fabric. Tying it around my waist was almost useless when I sported the Harrowland’s hardest boner, but that seemed to bring Fallon’s rage level down to her normal ‘resting serious face’.
