King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(38)

“Who taught you to fight?”

“My commanders.”

“Alec Killian?”

Once again, I halted my task, and this time, I turned to face him fully. My eyes roamed from his face to his powerful shoulders to his cock, which strained against the fabric of his clothes.

“Jealous, King Adrian?” I taunted.

He tilted his head up, mouth and body tightening.

“I am just trying to ascertain what is left for me to teach.”

His words inspired heat to blossom in my stomach, and I wanted to tremble, but I tightened my muscles to keep from showing weakness.

“I don’t know there is much you can teach me, Adrian, except hate.”

A smile curved his lips, and then he rose to his feet. As he did, the edges of his clothing brushed my skin, and the shiver I’d fought so hard to keep at bay shook me. I bent my head back to hold his gaze as he towered over me.

“Sparrow,” he murmured, lifting his hand to hold my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek as he’d done earlier. “I think you are right.”

I felt his lips brush mine as he spoke, and I thought he would kiss me, but instead, he dropped his hand and slipped from his place between me and his chair, leaving the tent.

As soon as he was gone, I realized how much I’d wanted him to kiss me, because I’d wanted the pleasure he promised. I’d wanted to get lost in him so I could forget my reality.

It was good he’d left me alone.

I turned back to the basin and finished washing up. After, I curled into the furs covering Adrian’s bed. It took me a while to fall asleep, my mind racing with my recent past. It followed as the dark descended, and all I heard was the clash of metal and the screams of my people.





Nine


Those screams continued, but when I woke up, it was to silence. The only thing that clung to me was a feeling of dread that had settled deep in my chest. Beside me, Adrian was asleep. He was naked and lay atop the covers. The low light from the brazier reflected off his lean and hard muscles. The curve of his erection drew my eyes, and I wondered if he was ever not aroused. I considered that he was too trusting to fall asleep beside me like this, and yet I did nothing but slip from bed and dress, stepping into the fading day. All around, the woods looked as if they were burning, set aflame by the sun.

The camp was quiet, eerie, and I did not feel as safe as I expected, given that I was still within the borders of my home. Even outside the tent, the icy feeling in the pit of my stomach remained, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was about to happen.

A high-pitched mewling drew my attention, and I turned in the direction of the sound. Between the dead boughs of the trees, I saw buzzards circling. Again, that strange dread overcame me, sharper this time. They’re looking for food, I thought and hoped Adrian kept his promise to bury my people.

A chill wind swept from behind me, dragging my hair into my face and carrying the distinct smell of death, but we were too far from those who had perished last night, and this smell was strong, indicating days of decay. Another cry erupted from the vultures, and I watched as one peeled away from the volt. As it did, the others followed.

And so did I.

I cut through the trees, following the birds in the fading daylight. I started moving at a walk, but my pace increased. As I went, tree limbs caught my hair and thorns gripped my clothes and scratched my skin, but I was urged on by a sense of alarm that turned my stomach, despite a growing fear of what I would find.

The trees began to thin, and I came upon a village that was surrounded by a tightly woven wooden fence. In Lara, most of the villages were given the name of the family who founded them. In this case, a carved sign indicated the name to be Vaida.

The gate, which faced me, was closed. That was not unusual, as it was almost sunset. What was unusual was the quiet…and the smell.

There was death here.

The vultures cawed, and I saw them swoop down to land inside the gate as I approached.

“Hello!” I called, and my voice echoed in the trees around me. It was unsettling, and as the wind picked up, swirling the smell of rot, my skin prickled.

I pushed on the gate, rattling it to get someone’s—anyone’s—attention, but there was no response.

A soldier should be stationed here, I thought. One of Killian’s guards.

I squeezed my hands between the fence and the gate and tried to pry open the door. There was enough of a crack that I could peer through, and what I saw elicited a cry from my throat.

I released the gate, turned on my heels, and vomited.

“Isolde!”

The voice that called my name was familiar, and I didn’t expect its presence. I looked up, sobbing, and screamed at Killian, who rode toward me upon his horse.

“They’re dead! They’re—”

I couldn’t say it. I’d only seen part of two bodies, but they seemed to have been skinned alive. As I recalled what I’d witnessed, my stomach roiled again.

Killian dismounted and came to me.

“We need to leave,” he said and took my shoulders, pulling me from the fence. I wrenched away.

“Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you,” he said through his teeth. “And if we don’t leave now, we’re next!”

“Release my wife, Commander.”

Adrian’s voice was cold, but his presence surprised Killian enough that he loosened his hold, and I whirled toward Adrian, who stood apart from us. He looked just as callous as his voice had sounded, his face and hair pale, his clothing immaculate.