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“It’s not cowardly to protect my territory at all costs.” He finally moves into the dim light, and I glare at the man who casually leans against one of the benches at the back.
I’m surprised by his appearance.
He’s so different from the other men in the Lost Land. Similarities are there—his hair is black, he has light eyes, and his skin is pale. But that’s about all they have in common.
Unlike Armand’s scrawny slaves, he’s very muscular. And his hair… there’s lots of it. The dark strands are messy, several inches long, and sticking up wildly. A chunk of it is falling over his forehead in between his eyes, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. There’s dark stubble on his face, and I bet if he let it grow, he’d have a full beard in no time.
I analyze his clothing.
Instead of a ratty uniform, he’s wearing a loincloth made of an animal hide. His boots are sturdy, yet soft. The leather is laced up with rope, and fur is sticking out of the top at mid-calf.
I recognize that fur. His outfit is made from lycans.
No, he’s not one of Armand’s minions.
He’s worse.
“Barbarian,” Kai spits the word like an insult.
The man grins, though his smile has no warmth, and he has sharpened fangs where his incisors are. “Some call us that. We prefer to be referred to as ‘the free.’”
“You took Zaylee,” I accuse forcefully as I step around Kai to face this bastard.
Kai grabs my arm, but I resist when he tries to tug me behind him again.
Sneering at the barbarian like the scum he is, I let a few scathing expletives explode. The nasty words are in Portuguese so he won’t know what I’m saying, but my burning hatred is clear.
I expect a fit of rage from him, but he just seems intrigued.
He stares at me for a few beats, then the hardness in his eyes softens. “You look just like her.”
He’s referring to Zaylee, and I correct, “No, she looks likeme.”
I’m staking my claim on her. He can trap her in a glass case and call the temple his territory, but that doesn’t make her his property.
“You’re the grandmother who was given to the Overlord of the West,” the barbarian drawls without an ounce of hostility. In fact, his tone is almost friendly. “Zaylee will be happy to hear you’re healthy enough to insult me with such voracity. She’s been very worried about you.”
“She’s talked about me?” I ask, wary of how quickly his aggression has disappeared.
Aloof, he responds, “We’ve talked about many subjects.”
“How?” I gesture to the sealed container in the background. “She can’t hear anything, and she won’t wake up. Is the container enchanted?”
“It’s what’s inside it with her that keeps her asleep. Under her pillow, there’s a pouch filled with a magical substance.”
“The blackout powder,” Kai says, like he’s familiar with the stuff.
“A diluted version of it. The presence of the powder in such a small space causes the body to go into a state of dormancy. As long as the vessel is sealed, Zaylee will slumber, but she wakes within minutes of opening it.”
Hope blooms inside me because Zaylee can wake up after all. She’ll be alert when she joins Kai and me. She might even be able to help us in the game with her fire power.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” the guy flippantly quips as if we’re imposing. “Zaylee and I have plans.”
I scoff. “Plans?”
He nods. “It’s time for our visit.”
Oh, I don’t like this. The entire setup has red flags all over it.
