William rolled his eyes and tossed Gillian a shirt. On the front, he'd bedazzled Puck's face inside a circle. The caption read I Ain't Afraid of No Goats.
Next, he tossed a shirt at Puck. "No need to thank me. I know you love it."
Puck offered his patented cold smile. "My image nestled against Gillian's breasts? I will thank you, Willy."
Nostrils flared, William grated, "I. Will. Murder. You."
"You. Can. Try."
Gillian sighed. "We're heading out within the hour, and I've got things to do. Go, both of you. Prepare yourselves."
"Anything for you." William blew her a kiss and stalked outside.
Puck lingered. Eyes ablaze, he said, "Prepare yourself, because I will have you. I told myself I wouldn't touch you again because, no matter what, I will let you go. I made a vow to William, ensuring it."
His words shouldn't hurt. But...ouch.
"But," he continued, "I failed to stay away yesterday--and today. I have you for only a short while, and I'm going to enjoy you while I can. Congratulations, lass. You've defeated me."
25
You must prepare yourself, because I will have you.
Going to enjoy you while I can.
Puck's words echoed inside Gillian's mind, sometimes on repeat, sometimes on shuffle as she rode Peanut across the sand. His shorter legs made him slower than the other chimeras, his gait choppier. To William's consternation, she used the goat T-shirt as padding underneath her increasingly sore butt.
One moment she thrilled about Puck's announcement, so hot and achy she thought she might die without his touch. The next she floundered, so confused she thought she might sob.
Should she resist him? Or just give in?
Congratulations, lass. You've defeated me.
He had not sounded happy. But then, when had he ever sounded happy? On the other hand--or maybe the same hand?--he had sounded resentful.
Gillian had married him with a single task in mind: to make him feel some kind of emotion. She hadn't known she would come to crave his touch more than anything. Now, she wished she could make him feel desire--desire laced with affection.
Grudging tolerance would not be, well, tolerated.
She stewed over a plan of action as their group of five traveled, playing mental tug-of-war. What to do, what to do. Let him go? Fight for him? Take what she could, while she could, as he hoped to do?
"I hate the beginning of a journey," Winter said, pulling her from her thoughts. "And the end. And everything that happens in between."
"But you love complaining about journeys," Cameron quipped, "so the rest of us have that to look forward to."
"That's true." Winter sighed, woebegone. "Great! There's an upside for everyone but me."
Like Winter, William also kept up a steady stream of complaints.
The suns hate me.
Poppet, can you do me a solid and put a little pep in your mangy mutt's step? And no, I'm not talking about Peanut.
I forgot to bring a deep conditioning treatment for my hair. If I develop split ends, someone is going to get neutered--not going to mention any names, but it starts with a P, or maybe an F, and ends with an uck.
Soon after, they came upon a small camp. The occupants caught sight of Gillian and squealed, "Not the Dune Raider!"
She recognized their faces in an instant. Two men on her Most Wanted list. Known abusers.
Before they had time to run, before anyone in the group had time to react, Gillian was on her feet, sword in hand, delivering justice.
Heads rolled, and magic filled her.
William frowned at her. "My baby doll needs to be more careful. What if they'd fought back?"
Baby doll? He would always see her that way, wouldn't he?
"Good kills." Puck nodded in acknowledgment but avoided meeting her gaze, as if he knew the tension between them would finally reach a boiling point.
In an effort to distract everyone with conversation, she remounted Peanut and trotted ahead, saying, "What'd you guys name your chimera?"
"Animals die before immortals," William said. "Best not make friends with them."
Winter frowned at her. "Why would I name a lowly chimera?"
Cameron stared up at the sky. "How many clouds? I must know!"
"Don't care," Puck said with a shrug.
Unacceptable! "Don't care is a horrible name. Puck, you'll call yours Walnut. William, yours is Pistachio. Cameron, yours is Almond. Winter, yours is Pecan." Gillian reached out to pet Peanut behind the ear. "They'll be our little nut jobs."
No response. Good. No response meant no objection.
Finally, just before nightfall, they reached their destination: the entrance to Sin's maze. A dark fog whisked where sand ended and a creepy forest began. Rather than enter, they made camp at a small river oasis nearby. They'd head in at first light.
"Think Sin has men waiting inside?" Winter asked. "They might exit and attempt to kill us before we can enter."
"Or warn Sin of our arrival," Cameron said. "We should--oh, look, another cloud!"
"He'll sense me the moment I reach Connacht land," Puck replied. "If he has men nearby..." He shrugged. "Let them come."
William dismounted, his gaze hot on Gillian. "How's your rage level?"
"Fine," she muttered. Shouldn't Puck ask about her arousal levels?
Ever the gentleman, William offered to set up camp for her while she took care of any personal needs.
She accepted, grateful, and led Peanut a good distance away, to the edge of the water, where she fed and brushed him. When he was resting comfortably on a bed of furs, she grabbed a bar of soap from her pack, headed behind a thicket of trees, stripped and entered the pond.
Once clean, she donned a comfy dress made of scarves. A gift from one of the women she'd saved. As she wrung water from her hair, a light patter of footsteps captured her attention.
Someone approached, and he carried a faint woodsy scent with him. In her veins, awareness fizzed like champagne.
"I brought dinner." Puck's husky baritone stroked her ears.
Not enough time had passed for any kind of hunt, which meant Puck had planned ahead. Taking care of me, even though he claims he doesn't care for me?
Though her heart raced, Gillian turned slowly...and came face-to-face with the object of her fascination. Moonlight accentuated the tragic beauty of a face cut by cruelty, with no hint of warmth or softness. Not tonight, at least. Like her, he'd taken a bath, leaving his hair wet. Where he'd bathed, she didn't know, since there was no other body of water nearby--to her knowledge. He was shirtless, his warrior's body a revelation of strength and sinew. Tonight, the butterfly tattoo ran from one side of his rib cage to the other, stretching over his navel and along his goodie trail, vanishing beneath the waist of his sheepskins. Her mouth watered for a taste.
Even the off-limits bird tattoo appealed to her. The one she wasn't allowed to touch.
Would he have any objections to licking?
Had she truly spent the day unsure whether or not to deny him? The answer was so clear now.
I will have him while I can.
But what could they do tonight? Soon, the others would make their way to the river, expecting to bathe. Wasn't like Gillian could hang a sock on a tree limb as a sign to stay away. How would William react to that? And what about any threats that might lurk nearby?
Wait. Puck still watched her, expectant. He'd made a comment about...oh, yeah. "Dinner. Thank you," she said.
He handed her a small satchel of berries and nuts. "Come on. We'll eat together." Like a date! She led him to the pallet she'd made for Peanut. Her pet was too exhausted to move, much less open his eyes.
Puck eased beside her, watching as she popped a plump red berry into her mouth. His pupils spilled over his irises like some kind of erotic solar eclipse as she moaned with delight and savored the sweet juice wetting her parched throat.
"You did well today," he croaked.
"Thank you." She arc
hed a brow. "We are talking about the killings, right?"
The corners of his mouth twitched, causing her heart to flutter. "I'm talking about the way you rode your chimera without complaint."
She snorted. "Do I get a trophy?"
"Yes. You do. I have your trophy...in my pants."
Puck, making jokes and innuendos... Do not fan your overheating cheeks. She'd only encourage them both at a time she shouldn't encourage either one of them.
Although, she really wanted her trophy.
Not yet! "You do not win any prizes today. If you weren't sniping at William, you were stewing in disapproving silence."
"Hate him. He's as bad as Sin. What do you see in him?"
Easy. "Affection. Fun. Support." To be fair, I'd rather see those things in you.
"I have something for you." He dug into his pocket and pulled out...a ring.
Gift exchange! Only, she had nothing for him.
"This is your wedding ring."