Page 72 of A Darkness So Sweet

And off he went. Continuing through the garden, plucking some part of a plant, handing it to her, and demanding she tell him the name. She did so, over and over again, until he seemed somewhat satisfied with her performance.

“When trolls are joined, when we find our mates, our magic is mingled. You were given that gift by the Blood Witch. A true troll wife can use some of her husband’s magic, just as he can use some of hers. That’s why you can use this power now. He has strengthened you.”

“And that... changed your opinion of me? Somehow?”

He sniffed. “You’re not human. You’re a troll wife—that much I am certain of. So you can stay.”

The plants cheered, the sound of their happiness and mirth filling the clearing. The troll grumbled, heading away from her before he spun around again. He looked at her for a long time before finally saying, “You can call me Birger. But if you mess up my garden, I will throw you out on your ass like all the others.”

“Understood.”

Birger nodded, and then quietly added, “But I don’t think you’ll make the mistakes all the others did.”

It was a start. This old troll had no idea how much his words soothed the aching hurt in Maia’s soul.

ChapterThirty

RAGNAR

Ragnar couldn’t see straight. He was so bleary-eyed from working on potions and elixirs and all the other things that his people needed that he wasn’t sure what time of day it was. He’d been working for hours.

Days, really. Days on end where he was barely home and if he was home, he was sleeping. Eating was hard enough. But his people would need more of these healing potions and all the magic he could give them if they were going to fight the humans. The king had decided they would take the fight to Maia’s people. If the humans continued to stay on their mountain, then the trolls would force them off of it.

This mountain was theirs. For years, they had allowed the humans to wander over their land. All because they’d known the humans couldn’t get into their home. But now they could. Now the humans had proven they knew of at least one entrance, which meant they had been watching the trolls for too long. Now, they had to make sure that the humans couldn’t continue to do so.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and tried his hardest to keep going. His magic was already depleted, but it had been so for days on end now. All he wanted was to crawl back to his home, get into his bed, and pray his wife turned in her sleep to rest against him.

Those were the best parts of his evening. No matter how hard the day was, at least she leaned against him. At least she sought him out in her sleep for warmth or reassurance or whatever it was. At least he could hold her while she wasn’t aware of what she was doing.

Because otherwise, he didn’t see his wife. And that drove him mad.

Gunnar strode into the room, carrying another armload of clean bottles that needed to be filled. “When was the last time you saw Maia?”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

His brother grinned and set the box down a little too hard. The sound of rattling glass filled the room. “She’s doing well, you know.”

“I would prefer to hear that from her lips.”

“Too bad you don’t talk to her anymore.”

Ragnar was going to punch him right in the mouth and make it so that his brother stopped talking about his wife like he knew her better, like Ragnar didn’t know what was going on in her life.

Because he didn’t. He had been absent for the better part of two weeks now. And he desperately missed her. A human.

Groaning, he dropped his head onto the desk and rested the aching muscles in his neck. “We were getting along so well, too. We’d made progress, brother. Real progress.”

“You mean you tasted her pussy, and you’d do anything to get another taste?”

Ragnar heaved a sigh. “Shut up.”

“So I’m right.”

“Of course you’re right. But when would I get a taste when I’m always working and only return in the middle of the night?”

There came the sound of a chair screeching against the floor, and then the wood groaning under the weight of his massive brother. “Interesting. I suppose you could always wake her up.”

“That feels less than willing.”

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