Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I tried to wipe his cheek, but only added more crimson. Horrified, I wrenched from him and stared down at my hands. My mother’s most prevailing warning whispered through my mind. What you do in a temper cannot be undone when you calm.
I squeezed my eyes tight, remembering her broken arm and my vow to never get angry in such a way again. Dragging in a shuddering breath, I geared to look over my shoulder and survey the battlefield.
“Do not,” Viktor commanded, and I went still, my body obeying him of its own volition.
Stiffness invaded my limbs. What had I done, what had I done? “I moved without thought. Or training! I…I…” I’d taken down ten accomplished and trained soldiers as if we were children playing a game.
“That is the sentinel instinct, and yours is stronger than most. Listen to me,” he added. Another command. He’d never used such a sharp tone with me, even upon our initial meeting. “You experienced your first break. Any moment, you will become extremely fatigued. Do not fight it. Understand?”
No, I didn’t understand, thank you very much. How could he know what I’d—all at once, my muscles gave out. I sagged, and he caught me, ensuring my head rested on his shoulder.
Sleep crooked its finger at me, but panic refused the invitation. I needed to move my body or, or, or. I didn’t know! Couldn’t think. Wanted…must… Argh!
“Shh, now,” Viktor comforted, combing his fingers through my hair. He carried me to the river, cooing all the while.
As he tenderly cleaned off my battle gore, my brain blipped. The perfect opening for calm, which created the perfect opening for sleep. Lights flipped out one by one.
He finished up and swept me into his arms once again. “There’s a good Love. Just let yourself drift away.”
Yes. Drift away. What a wonderful idea. “’Night, Tor,” I murmured, greeting the darkness with a smile. Then came the nothingness. No dreams, no present, and no future.
I awakened gradually, blinking open my eyes. Cocooned in warmth, I dragged in Viktor’s scent. Pine needles, forest dew and roses. Mmm. How I loved being in his arms. I stretched out on my side, cuddling deeper into him as he slept on.
Wait. Memories huffed at the edge of my thoughts, reminding me of bulls champing at the bit to throw a cowboy to the ground and stomp his bones to powder. They bucked themselves to center stage, one after the other. The bugs. The river. Deco. His promise to send his men after me. My break and the aftermath. Viktor’s reappearance. Everything except the atrocities I committed on the battlefield.
How vividly I recalled the berserker king’s worn expression, though, and shuddered. Did he know four of his men were among the dead, thanks to me? He must. He was a details guy.
At least I didn’t have to worry about being hunted by traitors. But. My bottles. They were gone. I was raw inside. Vulnerable in a way I’d never been, battered by emotions I’d denied for far too long. Guilt, shame, fear. More anger.
Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t try to rebottle everything, just let it all flow through me.
Eventually, I eased up, doing my best not to jar my companion. A fire raged in a crumbling hearth a few feet away, woodsmoke filling…I gazed around. A cabin. Above me, a roof sagged from the weight of time, gaps in the planks revealing patches of sky. Viktor must have carried me back to the abandoned village and found a place for me to sleep off the aftermath of my berserkerage. I mentally punched myself for giving him one more burden, especially after he’d battled against the effects of the vargbane root not once, but twice.
Needing reassurance that my sister had lived through the night, I lifted my hand to activate the ring. To be honest, I was also a teensy bit curious to learn if Deco raged over the loss of his ten warriors at the hands of a berserker novice.
Oh no! The ring was gone. I patted my pockets. Not there. Had I lost it when I broke? I must have. My shoulders rolled in, and I blinked back another round of tears. Argh! I hated, hated, hated this new emotional Clover. And now, Juniper couldn’t contact me.
Movement drew my attention to the side, and dread slapped me. A scene played over the walls, like a movie projected onto a screen. Viktor had sunk into another vargbane root coma. Would this happen every time he slept now? Poor Viktor. I stroked his fevered cheek. At least I knew he could battle his way free, both with and without me.
What scene did he showcase today? With both anticipation and regret, I left the warmth of his side, stood and tiptoed over for a closer study. Hmm. Okay. I pressed my palm over my roiling belly. I doubted he meant to broadcast this one. He stood in front of a stunningly beautiful woman with strawberry blond hair and clear blue eyes. She wore a royal gown of shimmering emerald, a match to his eyes. The bodice sparkled with countless tiny gemstones while the skirt billowed around her ankles. A crown of gold adorned with glimmering jewels rested atop her head. She grazed the tips of her nails over Viktor’s bare chest.