Page 68 of The Witch and His Crow

‘Here?’ I whispered. ‘Don’t you make love to strangers in stables then?’

‘Firstly, you’re no stranger. Secondly, this isn’t a scene from a gay western romance book. It’s a very real, very frightening trial to test us. And thirdly, I don’tmake love.’

A shiver raced over my entire body, encasing my skin in gooseflesh. ‘No, what do you do?’

It was moments like that I wished I could bite my tongue off.What do you do?What was wrong with me! It was the least single sexy response I possibly could have had to his comment.

‘I suppose you’ll never know.’

I closed my eyes and smiled, because for a moment, I didn’t think about my parents or Witch Hunters. Arwyn had a gift for distracting me, and I welcomed it. Craved it, actually, like morphine. He was more addicting than a drug. At least I hoped that was the mead altering me thoughts to think that. Regardless, I nestled in close, all too aware of how close he was, where his crotch was pressed into my arse, how his mouth was inches from the back of my head.

‘I suppose I won’t,’ I whispered. ‘Although, if you haven’t worked out yet, I do like a challenge, Arwyn.’

‘Get some rest then,’ he replied, his voice smooth and sultry. ‘You’ll need all the energy for the challenges we’re going to face getting back to our time. Then once we survive we can discuss what I do instead of making love. Deal?’

My cheeks heated. At least tomorrow I could feign ignorance, pretend this conversation never happened and if it got brought up, blame the mead. But for now, I did as he asked, allowing his touch and words to warm me against the storm.

I slept soundly for the first time in days.

Until the screams began.

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘Witch! Witch!’

I bolted upright, knocking Arwyn’s arm off me. Daylight shone in through the wooden slats of the stables wall, highlighting motes of dust that danced around us. How long had we slept for? It had to have been hours, but it was as if I’d only just closed my eyes.

My body was still asleep, whereas my mind was completely awake. I scanned the empty stable, searching for whoever had just shouted, but it was empty beside Arwyn and the rats lurking in the stacks of straw.

‘Did you hear that?’ I asked. Damn, my head ached. How strong was that mead? I pressed two fingers into my temple, massaging the discomfort away.

‘Impossible not to,’ Arwyn whispered, standing slowly. There was no room for ‘good mornings’ between us, or the time to contemplate that we had just spent hours lost in each other’s arms.

Unlike me, he wouldn’t be feeling the aftereffects of the mead. One slight movement and my brain felt like a potato floating within soup. ‘Stay here. I’ll get a look,’ he said.

‘Witch!’ came the scream again. The tone was almost familiar, as hysteric as it was excited. ‘I saw her in the wood. She was dancing naked around a fire, speaking in tongues. Witch. She’s a witch!’

Arwyn’s warning to stay put faded as we both sprung up. In tandem, we said the name of the person weknewwas being accused. ‘Eleanor.’

But we couldn’t have been more wrong.

As we exited the stable, dressed in clothes more appropriate for this time period, a bird swooped down from the blue sky. It followed behind a crowd that paraded up the main street. I’d recognise those blue-black feathers anywhere.

‘Caym?’ I said aloud, drawing Arwyn’s attention.

‘He’s back?’

I lifted a finger and pointed towards the crow. There was no denying as those beady eyes fell on me as he continued to fly chasing the crowd.

No, not a crowd. A cavalry of Hunters. They were back with their bounty. And it was like Caym was attempting to stop them, swooping down to attack faces and horses.

‘Found Romy—got into some trouble—stall for me.’Caym’s inner voice was broken and panicked. He spoke quickly, without breaks, blending the three separate sentences into one.

My hand clamped over my chest, pressed to the painful thump of my heart through bone. ‘Romy,’ I whispered, searching for her amongst the growing crowd.

Arwyn was watching me, but I was trying everything to concentrate on the bond between Caym and I. It was weaker than it had been before, almost quieter. But even if he whisperedacross hundreds of miles, I would’ve understood the word he said next.

‘What did he say?’ Arwyn asked, grasping my shaking hands.

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