Page 14 of The Manticore's Fire

Abby shrugged. “Sure. I can’t see you wasting time teaching me gibberish that I can’t use. I suppose you might even enjoy having a companion who could read and discuss these books with you,” she added, gesturing around her. “That is if you have any compelling stories and it’s not just a pile of academic tomes.”

His soft chuckle in response surprised her and sent a strange flutter in her heart. Something very small in his expression shifted and softened and he nodded.

“Very well, Abby, we will begin with some children’s tales, I think. It will help you learn some rudimentary words and grammar as these are written for very young children. I had kept the book to teach my own cubs when the day came. You will find the book on the first shelf near the hearth. It is small and thick; you cannot miss it.”

Nodding, Abby rose eagerly from her chair and went to the specified bookshelf. Just as he said, there was a book smaller than the rest but there was no printed lettering or any other professional detailing to it. In fact, it looked almost hand bound. Curious, she flipped it open to find each page scrawled with elegant, sweeping foreign calligraphy beside beautifully illustrated pages painted with what appeared to be some sort of quality water-color work. She ran her fingertip over the illustration of a manticore, admiring the beauty of the lines and saturation of the pigment.

“This is beautiful,” she murmured as she brought the book back to Samir.

The male glanced away in embarrassment. “It is satisfactory enough,” he replied and gestured for her to sit.

She looked over at him in surprise. “Did you make this book?”

His ears twisted back and flattened with discomfort. “It is nothing. Now, are you ready to begin or do you wish to delayyour study to pelt me with your endless questions. If you are not serious about this, I will be happy to go back to my own reading.”

“No, no, please, let’s begin,” she said urgently, suddenly excited to delve into the book. A book created by a monster was such a novelty. She didn’t think anyone among the hunter’s guild had even heard of such a thing before.

With the book spread between them, Samir’s deep voice filled the cavern as his fingers traced over the markings, drawing her into a world she barely remembered as a small child and her father’s deep voice murmuring to her in his native tongue. The words rolled beautifully off Samir’s tongue, some of them with a resonating purring sound that she knew was distinct to him. The words slowly came to life as he went over each of them.

More than once her eyes rose to him to watch the play of shadows and firelight over his powerful features as he spoke. Gods, he pissed her off and yet how strange that she found this image far nobler than those of any man she’d known? It wasn’t because he had some great intrinsic kindness that shined through. She had known many kind people and hadn’t found them the least bit compelling—and Samir wasn’t exactly what she would call kind anyway. But there was a quality to him that seemed larger than life and yet intimately close to her at the same time as she attentively listened.

Chapter

Eleven

Samir supposed that every male had some weakness and perhaps due to his own fault, Abby had found one of his. The picture book he had crafted when he was young and still idealistic, and perhaps a little romantic. He had no thoughts of conquering a female to keep for his own back then. Instead, he had entertained ideas of finding a rare person, perhaps someone as alone in the world as he was, who might love him and wish to spend their life with him and raise some monstrous cubs together to whom he would pass down all of his knowledge.

And reading, it happened, was something that he had prided in himself from early on. It had opened up the world to him as he taught himself numerous languages over the long span of his life. And yet, as the years passed, that dream had faded slowly bit by bit. So he had set himself to the task of making several primers, dreaming of the cubs that he would someday have. He had never suspected that those same books would gradually come to weigh heavily on his heart. He had once thought he had found a potential companion to share his life with and have offspring, but he did not want to be reminded of that betrayal.

His gaze drifted over to Abby as she bent down to inspect the shelf that she had pulled the first primer from. Over the lastfew days, he had raided his library to bring out others that he had made since she appeared to appreciate them so much. Her fingers trailed over the handmade books slowly, her attention fully absorbed by the volumes on the shelf.

“You really made quite a few of these,” she observed.

The note of awe in her voice rushed over him pleasantly and he allowed himself a moment to bask in it before replying.

“It was a long time ago and, as you can see, a manticore’s day is not exceedingly demanding.”

Abby looked up at him then, her brow scrunching as she straightened. “True,” she said slowly as she rejoined him and sank into her chair. “But this is more than just some hobby to pass the time, Samir, yet you don’t want to talk about it. I’m curious as to why that is. Didn’t you want a family?”

Sadness rose abruptly, almost strangling him, but he released a dry bark of laughter, scoffing as he shook his head. “I would not even know what to do with a mate in my care much less cubs.”

“But obviously you thought about it,” she pressed. “So much is unknown about monsters. Sometimes it is easier to imagine that they sprung from darkness or from some pit in the ground rather than reproduce.” She made a face. “Actually, I’m pretty sure most hunters believe that.”

He chuckled at that as it was utterly absurd, yet he had the feeling that she was telling him the truth. “Are you planning to write a book, kitten?”

“Me? Write a book?” She giggled as if he were the one being absurd. She gave him a crooked smile and shook her head. “I’m afraid that I don’t have the patience to sit in one place that long, much less occupy myself with something so tedious as writing an education manuscript. I’m a hunter, sir, not a mage.”

The corners of his mouth quirked at the title she addressed him by so easily. He was a sir now, was he? He knew it wasmeant in jest, but he hoped that it also meant that she was coming to see him as more than a monster but as a person, too.

“But I have to admit that I’m curious. You say that manticores have cubs. I don’t buy that you never once been tempted to have cubs of your own—even a little bit—otherwise you wouldn’t have done all of this,” she argued, gesturing to the bookcase.

His jaw clenched and his claws dug into the arm of his chair as the image of the scholarly male he had entertained rose within his mind as if conjured there by her observation. The male had seemed so soft and fragile by appearances—as delicate as the flowers that bloomed in the winter rains—and yet had been surprisingly strong and agile. His companion had possessed surprising contradictions that had fascinated him… to nearly his own peril.

He grunted softly in agreement. “Once.”

Her eyebrows winged up and she leaned forward in her chair, drawing closer to him. “What happened?”

“He betrayed me,” Samir replied flatly.

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