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“Annoying male,” she hissed, picking up the pace of her strides to put more distance between them.
Ere frowned at her back.
“Why doesn’t she like me?” he asked Sorin, who stayed by his side.
“Everyone likes me. Especially women. I have loads of girlfriends, a doting twin sister and an affectionate mother who tells me how adorable I am every time I visit. What’s wrong with these strange people from the Celestial Palace? They have no taste, I tell you.”
His Mate remained silent beside him.
He wondered if they could still communicate telepathically now that they no longer had their immortal Gifts. He probably couldn’t take other humanoid forms either, his shapeshifting powers suspended for the time being.
No turning to dragon. No shapeshifting. No superhuman strength, no immunity to foreign substances, organic and inorganic, and no magnified healing ability.
Gods! It sucked hairy balls to be human.
Would he actually grow older on this trip? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
But Sorin would only increase in magnificence with age, he had no doubt. Ere wouldn’t mind an attractive laugh line or two around his beautiful golden eyes.
He scanned his Mate from head to toe, taking the time to notice what he hadn’t fully appreciated before, too caught up in his own misery.
“You look like a Viking marauder in those threads,” he said slightly breathlessly, admiring. “If only we were in a cozy cottage, alone, where I could have the pleasure of ripping them off you.”
His lascivious look was ruined when he sneezed violently, and he was forced to wipe his face on his sleeve again.
“If only I felt up to it,” he groaned.
Sorin slanted a stoic glance at him, but Ere read every nuance on his Mate’s face exceptionally well by now.
“Don’t worry about me,” he reassured. “It’s probably just the sudden change in temperature. I’ll be fine when we find someplace dry and warm. This century, if the gods are merciful. And hopefully our refuge will be equipped with alcohol and food.”
His face lit up at that.
“Now there’s something to look forward to. I’ve never gotten drunk before. I knew there was something commendable about being human!”
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
“More ale, my love?”
Wolfe flicked his eyes to the comely barmaid with rosy cheeks and shapely mouth.
That mouth looked best stretched around a man’s cock, he knew, having enjoyed the sight a few times over the past years.
“I can use another bowl of stew,” he replied with familiar warmth.
She bumped her rounded hip against his knee and leaned over to give him an unobstructed view of her bountiful breasts that jiggled like the ripest melons within the confines of her tunic.
“Nothing else? My man is in another town, and won’t be back for days.”
Wolfe seldom turned down such blatant offers from attractive, willing, cheerful females who expected nothing more than a sweaty, mutually satisfying tumble. It had been too long since he last partook, having just returned to town after months at sea and in foreign lands fighting back Saxons and hunting…other things.
He wasn’t a man of many scruples. He certainly upheld no knightly honor. But there were some things at which he drew the line.
Bedding a married woman was one of them.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he said gently, giving her a regretful smile to ease the disappointment of his rejection.
The barmaid’s come-hither sass faltered a bit, her eyes darkening to betray the unhappiness of her recent matrimonial ties.
