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Even though they’re still wet, I slip my pants back on. At this point, I could use a bit more cold so my damn dick doesn’t start acting on its own again.

Except…when I pivot to grab my shirt, I see her.

Wide-eyed and sneaky, she peeks over the boulder for half a second.

She was watching me dress. That dirty girl.

I offer her a lazy grin. Maybe I should give her a show. I could saunter back over there and show her exactly what she’s missing. We could stop pretending, stop fighting the desire that’s been building between us since I met her in that tavern.

I take another step toward the boulder.

The last time I succumbed to yearning this intense, an entire town died in agony and terror. Because when I feel this strongly, I can’t seem to hold myself back.

Because I don’t want to hold myself back.

But I have to keep the mask in place, lest the monster lurking inside me rips the world asunder. I feed another branch to the fire, staring at the flames while urging myself to focus on tactics, threats, mucking stalls…anything except the woman bathing twenty feet away.

I’m not having much luck when Esme screams.

I react before the cry even stops. Grabbing my sword, I round the boulder and scan the river and surrounding banks.

Every single muscle in my body freezes as a long, sinuous shape glides beneath the water’s surface toward Esme.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Esme

Screaming, I scramble backward over rocks that offer no purchase. A graceful but unmistakably dangerous shape beneath the water charges toward me, growing in size as it nears the surface.

The river churns, then breaks over some sort of appendage, wide as my outstretched arms. The creature has no eyes or mouth, just a rounded head covered in silver scales. The water hides most of its body, but the tentacle or limb rearing into the sky covers me in the shadows.

The creature lunges.

I gasp, my eyes locked on the tendril stabbing toward me. In my haste to get away, I trip over a rock and tumble into the river with a splash. Water floods my nose and mouth, choking me and burning my nasal passages. I cough to clear my lungs as the monstrosity barrels toward me with incredible speed.

Too close for me to escape. All I can do is throw my arms in front of my face in a hopeless attempt to shield myself. I read my death in the creature’s advance…it’s more a matter if it will eat me before or after pummeling me to a pulp against the rocky riverbed.

A blur of motion appears on my right. Agnar strikes, his sword slicing halfway through the silver-scaled tendril. The tendril whips back and forth with the sword still embedded in its length, and Agnar grunts as he rips his blade free and jumps out of the way.

I roll and push off the riverbed. Smooth stones slide under my feet, and I slip and stumble toward the bank. I reach the wet earth on my hands and knees and lurch upright, fleeing toward the fire, desperate to escape the creature.

Agnar’s cursing halts me in my tracks, and sand sprays into the air.

Afraid for him but unsure how to help, I spin as another tendril stretches up from the water, closely followed by a third.

The middle tendril sways in the air as it tracks Agnar sightlessly. A deep crease along the tip splits, revealing rows of teeth and a long, thin tongue that lashes out to test the air. With a furious hiss, the head swoops toward Agnar, who twists aside at the last second.

His sword bounces off the scales as the creature tries to rear up again. In response, Agnar ducks underneath it, his weapon finding a gap between the armor plating.

The blade sinks deep.

Dark blood streams down Agnar’s arms as the beast screams and thrashes.

I expect the stink of river muck and fish. Instead, the wound reeks of warm iron and hot meat. This isn’t a river monster.

Then what in the three hells is it?

The creature swings its neck in a low arc toward the riverbank. Yellow-green gas pours from the mouth, and the sulfurous, sickly sweet odor churns my stomach.