Page 117 of Bruised MC Bear

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Xander

Xander was pleased. His plan to bring Kiera to his side was coming along almost too easily. The woman was already so desperate for the truth. All it took was telling her about the eight dead Chosen witches, and now that she had stayed overnight at his cabin, he was confident she trusted him more. Seducing her would be a breeze. He could do it with his eyes shut, although he much preferred the idea of feasting his eyes on every square inch of Kiera’s body. The best part was that Kiera already wanted him, and that fact was almost as intoxicating as the prospect of seeing change in Sector Two. He could not wait to see her again, or to get her to where all she could do was beg him to take her.

As he walked back to the camp, he remembered the way she smiled at him, the way the light hit her face at just the right angle to make her eyes shimmer like emeralds. His expression hardened again. Falling for her was not an option. Kiera had a part to play, and nothing more. They could have a bit of fun, but after his plan was realized, she would not be his concern. Besides, he, his mother, and anyone soldier who was willing would leave the central village before the dust settled. There was a possibility Minassus would try to capture them if their plan did not end up going exactly as hoped, but at least they could fight on their own turf and on their terms. Whatever it took, they would be free.

By the time Xander got to his cabin after meeting his troops that evening, a folded note was wedged in between his front door and the frame. He opened the message.

If you are available, I will meet you tomorrow at noon. Same place as we planned.

How that shifter witch bird managed to know which cabin was his out of all the other living quarters was beyond him. Kiera did not sign her name, but it was clear the message was from her. The memory of her skin tingling beneath his fingers, of touching her soft, silky hair, made him stir. He had no doubt in his mind that soon, he would have all of her.

“When is your witch coming back?” Liam asked, appearing from between their two cabins.

“Soon. How are the traps coming along?”

“Right on schedule,” Liam confirmed.

Xander looked around to be sure no one was there. “Just to be sure, you have not said a word to anyone, right?”

“Of course not. I’m a vault, remember?”

“Good. I have faith in my men, but it’s best to keep them focused on preparations for the coming storm.”

“Trust me, I get it.”

“Especially as she will be visiting the camp again.”

“You were both pretty low-key yesterday. And all our men know not to question your actions…So, how was she last night?”

“What?”

“How was it, being with a witch?”

“Nothing happened.”

“The fuck it didn’t,” Liam muttered.

“Man, are you deaf? You live next door. Did you hear anything?”

“No.”

“Then you should not have to ask me shit. I told you. Nothing happened.”

Liam scratched his head. “What the fuck did you do in there all night, then? Talk? Whisper compliments in her ear? Play cards?”

“The woman was wandering the streets all day. She fell asleep.”

“She saw your huge dick and said hell no, didn’t she?”

Xander chuckled, play-punching his friend in the jaw. “If what I’m packing is huge, yours is the last fucking ravager we killed, you big ole behemoth.”

“I think I need to try out a witch for myself to find out. At your rate, it will take you the next week to get her to first base.”

“Fuck off and mind your own damned business. Listen. About tomorrow…”

“Yes?”