Page 20 of Veil of Blood and Bone

He watches her like starving things watch open wounds. “Sounds like it.”

The longer he holds his stillness, the sharper the need to break it becomes.

“They miss the old ways, though. They’re spoiling for a fight.” I pause, and my throat burns like I’ve swallowed iron. “They’re pushing boundaries under the king’s name. He’s eager for fresh territory.”

“They can keep spoiling for one until they rot.”

“Aw, come now. Be serious.”

“I am serious.

He’s always been the same way. Not much has changed in the centuries since we both willingly stepped into this loop, this endless fucking existence of rinse and repeat looking for a way to break free. There is no freedom.

There is only Helene, currently strangling the troll with another vendor’s banner.

Her features twist into the violence I’m used to seeing. Her intrinsic expression. She thrives in the heart of battle, no matter what skin she wears. The song of war calls her name.

At least she’s back to being blonde this time around. I fucking love her as a blonde.

Although redheaded Helene was sure fun. She had nipple piercings then, well ahead of her time. And it’s always exciting when she is an ebony-haired beauty.

Blonde just looks more natural on her.

“God, can you not?” Nicholas side-eyes me. “You’re hard?”

I shrug and adjust my cock in my pants. “You are too. You’re wearing a coat to hide it better.”

The urge to intervene still claws at my skin like restless, hungry ghosts.

“I can’t wait to taste her again.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been celibate waiting for her arrival.” He says it in the tone of you? Seriously? Disbelieving and mocking in the same blow.

Visigoth prick.

I shrug again. “Why? You want to help me with this little problem?”

“Emphasis on little,” he grinds out.

“Hey, if insulting my cock is how you get your kicks, then have at it,” I quip. “I, however, have been faithful to my one true love.”

I press my hand to my racing heart.

Whereas this is not love, or loyalty, or any real bond. It’s merely a tolerance of each other that only nine hundred years can bring.

The troll goes down on his knees, and the jolt sends Helene tumbling over its head. The rest of the festival goers have long scattered, rightly so. They aren’t equipped to handle this kind of intrusion of reality. Their neat and tidy existence only encompass what they see right in front of their face. And what they buy in their bulk stores.

Certainly not the different layering of worlds, one on top of another.

“Should we be worried?” I jerk my nose at the troll, stumbling to its feet.

“Why? Because one snuck through the veil? She’s got this handled.”

I smirk and say, “Her skills are not in question, Fangs. I’m talking about the bleed over and what it means. Our buddies from Jötunheimr should not be here. Not now.” Not yet.

The threads of fate tighten around me in a noose. We’re all caught in the webs, and the more we move, the tighter they pull.

“Fucking trolls.” His claws lengthen another inch every time she bleeds, and he slides them into his pockets. I’ve seen Nicholas thirsty before.