Page 44 of Dream Reaper

How she missed him and worried that he was all right. How was he faring without her?

“But,” the lad continued, a slight pucker tugging at his full lips, “I don’t think you are evil. You’re too pretty to be evil.”

Ava flushed as Brynja snorted and growled, “Looks have nothing to do with whether or not someone is evil.”

They circled around the campfire and made their way down a well-worn path, stepping into the shadow of the ruins. The air grew chillier as they approached the old stone structure, and Ava shivered, clinging a little tighter to Roar’s hand.

“You should go back to your tent now,” Brynja ordered from behind. “It’s well past your bedtime, I’m sure.”

The boy squeezed Ava’s hand but didn’t release her. “No, it isn’t. I’m almost full grown. I stay up as late as I want.”

“What does your mother say about that?”

“Oh, she doesn’t know,” he admitted cheerfully. “I sneak out after she and Da go to sleep.”

“You’re shameless,” Brynja said, sounding exasperated. “Get off with you. I won’t tell you again.”

Roar threw his arms around Ava’s waist, gave her a quick squeeze, and then scampered away into the shadows. Ava watched him go.

“Do you think he’ll actually go home?” she asked, worry gnawing at her insides.

Brynja snorted. “Nope.”

Ava wondered why the girl had sent him away alone, knowing his propensity for nighttime mischief-making. But it’s not like Brynja was his mother—she probably didn’t feel responsible for him. Ava couldn’t help worrying that he’d put himself in another life-or-death situation before the sun rose.

The pains his mother must suffer, trying to raise a child like that.

“Stop gawping and get inside.” Brynja poked her hard in the ribs.

Ava flinched as the girl managed to hit a bruised spot. She cast a longing look back toward the flickering firelight before turning to face her fate.

“Where are you taking her?” The voice cracked out of the stillness, laced with warning.

They both spun to face Jerrid as he stalked up the path, still wrapped in his blanket. Tension simmered between Ava’s shoulder blades, buzzing up into the base of her skull. The anger in his voice, the look in his eyes…

Dragon lurked beneath the surface, too close for comfort.

“I’m fine, Jerrid,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m just tired, and I’m going to sleep for a while. If Echo doesn’t need me?”

He flicked a look at her, but there was no trust in it. He knew she was lying.

“Where,” he repeated, his gaze swiveling back to Brynja, “are you taking my wife?”

My wife.

The possessiveness in his tone made her cheeks burn. She’d almost forgotten about their marital ruse…but apparently Jerrid had not.

Brynja squared her shoulders and raked him with a furious look of her own. “I am taking my prisoner back to her cell. And you’re going to let me do it unless you want to end up stuck in there with her.”

His nostrils flared. Was that fire igniting in his eyes?

Her mouth went dry, and images of Dragon exploding through Jerrid’s body and devouring Brynja in a single gulp tormented her mind. As much as she disliked the human girl, she disliked murder more. Jerrid, she trusted. But Dragon?

She didn’t trust him at all.

“Really, there isn’t any call for this,” she began in a weak attempt to defuse the situation. “Jerrid, I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I want to go to my, um, my room.”

His eyes bored into her, tinged with disbelief. “Your room? Seriously, Ava?”