Black Moon Draw(34)

“To sell you would be profitable,” he agreed. “To take you to my bed would no doubt give me more pleasure this night and may convince you of how real I am.”

She stared at him. “But you’re betrothed!”

“Not to bond you, witch, just to taste you.” He trailed the pad of his thumb along her lower lip as he spoke, eyes on hers.

He waited for her reaction, not able to predict the otherworldly witch the way he did even his greatest enemies.

She knocked the hand holding her chin away and then yanked out of his grip.

He released her. They both knew he did not have to, if he chose otherwise. But he preferred her anger to her vulnerability, an emotion that unsettled him.

“If you even think about deflowering me or whatever you call it here, remember that your man parts will fall off!” she told him.

“You would be worth it.”

Flustered, she mumbled something and whirled away, tripped over her feet and then broke into a run. She clearly felt the tension that was between them, a dangerous attraction that he had to prevent from turning into more, if he was to have a real battle-witch. Her reaction was enough to tell him he had stumbled upon a potentially effective way to control her.

Fortunately, he preferred the victory the battle-witch might still grant to the feel of her body beneath him.

Her squire, hidden in the shadows, raced after her into the darkness.

It was unusual to taunt a battle-witch this way, even for a man who acknowledged no laws he had not made himself. The Shadow Knight’s eyes went from her fleeing form to the sky. He spent a long moment in thought, unable to take his mind away from the battle-witch or the impending danger of the era’s end.

A yelp tore his attention away. His instincts took over. He was running before he had time to register what happened. Sword in hand, he crested a nearby hill at full speed and then stopped, taking in the situation. His battle-witch, however horrible at battle, had stumbled upon aught she was supposed to find to protect his men: a trap set by his enemies.

Her squire had managed to avoid it, but the witch was stuck in the middle, her feet sank into the ground while critters with shells that reflected the moonlight scuttled up her body.

She was panicking, flinging them and knocking them off, her uncertain squire wringing his hands helplessly nearby.

Assured it was not another attack, the Shadow Knight sheathed the weapon at his back and strode down the hill. He motioned the squire away and surveyed the creatures. They were already eating through her clothing in spots. Purple magic glowed around her faintly, the way it had earlier in the day when she defeated Green Dawn Cave. Her power was un-channeled, undisciplined, spinning off into the night instead of defending her the way it should.

Whipping out a dagger, he closed the distance between them. “Witch, be still!” he ordered.

She was mumbling something, tears on her face and eyes crazed.

“Witch!” he bellowed.

She froze and looked up for a split second, long enough for him to grab her attention.

“The more you fight them, the worse they bite,” he told her. “Be still.”

“That’s absurd! These can’t . . . be real!” She wailed and began whacking at the bugs again. “Ow! They’re biting me!”

“Be still,” he said more quietly. “Remember the third law?”

Flinching, her struggles slowed.

“I will not let you die. You will have to trust me.”

She met his gaze, wincing as more bugs bit her.

Without looking away, he motioned the squire over and pointed back towards camp. “Bring her clothes.”

The boy went.

The Shadow Knight grew nearer, stopping arm’s length from her. “Any doubt in your mind that those bugs will eat through your skin to the bone?”

She swallowed hard and shook her head.

“Any doubt in your mind that I can stop them?”

Her response was a little less certain.

“Obedience is born of trust. Do as I say, the way I say it, and you will not be eaten alive tonight. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Very, very slowly, bend down and dig out one of your feet.”

She started and then stopped, cursing.

“Slowly,” he repeated, amused. He squatted with her, watching.

The battle-witch obeyed and began pushing bugs around to get to her feet. “Oh, god. This is . . . I feel like I’m going to pass out. I hate . . .” She wobbled.

“You do and they eat you,” he warned. “Do as I say, Naia. Be calm.”

She glanced up when he said her name.

“They are restricted to an area around you. Once you step out of it, I can take care of them,” he told her. “Now, dig out your foot.”

The battle-witch did so slowly, wincing with each bite. Half her skirts were gone, along with the bodice of her dress.

He watched, leery of any sign the bugs had managed to crawl inside her. Men did not normally die of being eaten to death. The bugs usually clogged their lungs or jammed their hearts long before then. Telling her the truth was unwise, and he kept his tone soft and calm, never revealing his own concern for the popular traps set by Brown Sun Lake.

“It’s free,” she said, her voice sounding fainter, a sign she was either ready to retch or panic.

The Shadow Knight rose and circled her, expertly judging where the trap ended. Picking the spot closest to her, he held out a hand and prepared the dagger in his other. “Here.”