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Bryant was about to mount his own horse, then smacked his head as if he forgot something and turned back to Wilkens.
“By the by, if you have the wish to retrieve this man’s associate for a proper burial, he’ll be warming the meadow across the Silver River bridge. But Sheriff?”
Bryant leaned forward, adding in a lethal whisper, “Do have a care for yourself in those woods. There are all sorts of terrible predators who lie in wait for a man when he’s alone and unprotected. Vicious beasts that love to feast upon human flesh in the most abominable and painful ways.”
Bryant touched his forehead in mock goodbye, then swung up into Pat’s saddle. “Have a nice day now.”
Okay, I couldn’t help it. Before we reined both horses around and galloped away, I grinned behind my shoulder at the fuming sheriff, then twinkled my fingers and gave him a saucy wink.
FATED MATES
CHAPTER 17
Every Rose Has Its Thorn
“Wait, you live how long?” I asked incredulously as our horses plodded side-by-side along the foot trail leading home.
Bryant grinned, answering, “Four to five hundred years typically. If we pass from old age. We’re not immortal creatures and can die by other means.”
“Like silver bullets,” I said.
An anthropologist would have a field day learning all that I was on this subject today.
No, actually they would literally flip their lids and do cartwheels up and down the road to discover this new race of human-animal beings that had been hiding under the noses of humankind for millennia.
If they weren’t were-kind themselves.
“That’s one way, yes,” he said. “Silver is lethal to wolves, and we die when the metal in any form enters our bloodstream and reaches our heart. Although decapitation is more effective and expedient.”
“Lovely,” I muttered, trying not to visualize that graphic image. “I’ll be sure to help you avoid guillotines and broadswords.”
“I have. When I lived in Paris right before the revolution.”
“When you..?” I shot him another wide look. “Exactly how old are you, Bryant?”
“Are you certain you wish to know?”
“Maybe I don’t,” I muttered. “No, wait. Yes, I do,” I added before he could back out that mysterious question that would be sure to keep me up all night. “Please tell me. Oh! I remember overhearing you comment to Alice that first night I came that you could easily be her several times great-grandfather. I thought you were being facetious, but you were serious.”
Yikes with spikes.
His brows hiked at me. “Eavesdropping, were you?” He tsked, adding, “Very rude, to be sure.”
“To be sure. Answer the question, wolfman. When were you born?”
His lips twitched before he answered, “The thirty-first of March.”
I gave him a withering look. “What year, smart guy?”
“Do you truly want to know, Callista?” he asked, this time his voice holding a note of concern. “It might bother you a great deal.”
Probably. I typically didn’t have issues with dating older men, but this was well beyond my scope of imagination.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Tell me.”
“I was born in the year of our Lord, fifteen hundred and seventy-seven,” he said, then gave me a cautious side-glance.
My mouth dropped open. “You’re...”
