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What had that monster said?I stank of death. He had been utterly mad, but something about the statement rang true.

People around me died … often. I was dangerous. OfcourseTye would want to avoid me at all costs.

And wasn't that what I wanted, too? My Wolf-Man — with all that kindness hiding under his gruff exterior — needed to find a better life than one tied to me.

Yes.I was glad he worked so hard to keep this distance between us …

Trying to ignore the wetness filling my eyes, I forced my attention on the heavy bundle he'd dropped on the table.

Unfolding the leather, I found a pair of daggers.

Glad for the distraction, I lifted the blades, examining them, holding them up to the light of the fire.

They seemed solid … the curved blades were sharp, the hilts covered in beautiful, comfortable leather.

I moved them from hand to hand, slicing through the air — repeating the motions I'd practiced religiously since learning them at Frexin's training academy.

Hells, these felt good!Like extensions of my hands — so perfectly balanced and weighted. And the grips …

I stared down at them.

If I didn't know better, I'd think they were made for me!

I let out a bitter laugh at the thought.

Where in the seven hells had Tye gotten them, though? And what would it take to convince him to let me have them?

I spun and sliced a few more minutes until my stomach let out a loud gurgle. Wincing, I set down the beautiful blades and wrapped them back up.

That stew wasn't going to make itself.

Tye and the blades would have to wait.

I rummaged through the saddle packs, quickly finding a bag of fresh vegetables — purple tubers, orange carrots, and even a small round yellow onion.

No one had ever said I was a good cook, but I could manage a stew. I mean, how hard could it be? You just chopped stuff up and threw it in a pot …

Chapter 48

Tye

Ithrew the third graiel over my shoulder and turned to walk back to the cabin. I'd hated killing the furry critters, with their long ears, big eyes, and scaled legs. But their meat would help keepherhealthy and strong.

The thought of returning to the Witch and that far-too-small cabin made my footsteps slow.

The scent of her arousal earlier had nearly done me in, trapped in such a small space. It had permeated my every thought — filling my mind with memories of that damn dream — the way she'd looked under me — how she'd tasted as she fell apart on my tongue.

Kings alive!

I'd grown to expect the bond's insistent demands to fuck the Witch since the bond awoke. But when she'd looked over my handy-work with such awe, somethinginside me had ached for more, and for what giving her more might mean —

Her — sitting in front of our fireplace, a babe cradled to her chest.

Us cooking in the kitchen as children dashed around our feet.

Her — wrinkles creasing the sides of her eyes, hair gone white, smiling up at me with that same proud look —

A life spent … together.