Page 89 of Blood of a Huntsman

Not walking down and then back up like everyone else. Oh, no. Eirikr walked on air, until he was standing right in front of the witches again.

They formed a united front, no one stepping away, no one moving. Bash had to admire them. Hand in hand with Cat, Bash closed in on them, and as he got closer, Eirikr's glare chilled him to the bones. If that thing had looked at him like that, he might have pissed himself.

Eirikr laughed.

"Who?" he asked.

Just one word, but Bash felt a potent authority drip from it. He knew he would have answered—if only to say that he didn’t know, or ask for details.

The witches remained silent and immobile, keeping their circle tight. Bash's admiration for them grew tenfold. After watching him dismember and destroy an entire army like they were nothing, they dared defy him? That took some balls.

Eirikr paced in front of the group.

"Eirikr," Chloe called, breathless. "How did you—"

"Escape? I didn't; I was released. By one of your friends here."

Every word had a threatening edge.

"One of your friends who has the blood of the elders, the blood of Tatiana, running right inside her veins. Who?" he demanded again.

His hand reached out to cup Blair's face. She tried to slap it away, but he'd already let go.

"No. You're a White descendant. Powerful bloodline. Not the right bloodline, however. I am looking for a dash of fae. A little Greek. A little Roman. Some Pompeiian…and whatever else you may have acquired over the last few centuries."

Now he stopped and turned slowly, grinning.

At Greer.

He looked her up and down.

"You."

She said nothing, but her chin lifted an inch.

"My, what an exotic cocktail. I'd say you're quite as beautiful as Tatiana herself. Perhaps even more so. I see some Indian, perhaps?"

"Yes, some," she replied.

"Among other things. It matters not. No blood could have overcome the legacy of your elders. And so, you're the guardian of this hellhole. The very last, if I'm not mistaken. I wonder what would happen if I rip open your pretty throat."

"Would you kill an innocent mortal, Primerius?" Greer challenged.

Jeez, the woman had a backbone of iron.

"I suppose I could make an exception."

She didn't falter.

He didn't move to strike.

"I am still tethered," he stated.

"I won't undo the work of my forefathers. I couldn't if I wanted to."

Eirikr tilted his head. "And yet here I am."

Greer lifted her hand. Though he was standing a few feet away, Bash saw and smelled blood dripping from the gash on her arm. Someone had bitten her. Hurt her.

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