Page 56 of Captive

Damn. I’d ride him.

Right here.

Right now.

Heat spreads across my face as I imagine straddling Hector’s lean hips.

Mildred whispers. “Organ?”

She shifts to her left and leans down slightly, as if she’s listening to someone much shorter. “Oh, origin,” she says. “Well, why didn’t you say that?”

Hector goes on the offensive, and with his larger frame, forces Cenric back to break the edge of the circle. Warriors scatter out of the way. Luc and Leah push Cenric back to the middle as the crowd roars.

“Running away, Cen?” Hector says with more arrogance than should be able to be contained in one man. “Does your woman know you like to finish early?” He pauses, then concludes the insult with. “Whelp.”

The smile disappears from the younger warrior’s face as he cocks his head, then lunges. Back and forth, they continue, and I wonder how long they can keep this up.

“Get him, Hector!” Leah shouts.

A smile lights the Muchrah’s face as she points to Hector. “It’s Hector,” she says with awe.

Oh my.

This poor old lady really has lost her wits.

Two Bloodstone warriors next to us give her a brief, puzzled look. One raises an eyebrow. Both turn back to the center of the circle, just in time to push Hector back into the ring.

Mildred shouts, “It’s you Hector!”

When I glance at her again, happiness twinkles in her eyes as her smile broadens.

Apparently, I am not the only one who appreciates him.

Mildred waves her hands above her head and shouts louder, over the din of the other warriors. “Hector, it’s you!”

He pauses and turns enough to glance at Mildred. Cenric takes the opportunity to kick Hector’s legs, sending him to the dirt. Quick as a flash, Hector regains his footing and reaches out, whacking Cenric in the throat. I gasp at Hector’s speed. There’s nothing Cenric could have done to counter him.

Cenric bends in half, coughing as the men watching laugh. Everly hurries from a nearby wagon to Cenric. Concern glints in her eyes as she offers him a jar of water, but he pushes it away.

I shove loose strands of hair behind my ears as Luc pounds his fist on his armored chest two times.

“We need to mount up,” he announces.

“No.” Mildred shakes her head. “We must not travel today.”

The lines across Luc’s forehead deepen as he studies her for a moment. “Why?”

“We need to perform the Medheela Ceremony and ask for Olah’s blessing to continue our travels.”

What is a Medheela Ceremony? It must be important based on the urgency in Mildred’s tone.

Luc’s eyes widen as he exchanges a look with Hector, who has come to stand in front of her.

“Are you certain?” Hector asks as he stares at Mildred.

“Yes, and Annaleigh and I must speak to you.” The old woman shuffles her feet and clutches her worn cloak to her frail body.

“I know, and we will talk soon.” He swipes a hand across his sweaty forehead and turns to Luc. “Prepare everything for the ceremony.”

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