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Oh, this was a dangerous road to navigate. Denying him would be like denying the sun its heat, but encouraging him would only fan the flames of a different sort of fever.
It wasn’t a real kiss. Be on your guard.
“What if I said no? What if I said I preferred males with shorter hair or no hair?”
“Then I’d cut it all off, and the goatee to boot.”
“You would not,” she asserted.
Those dark promises from earlier lurked behind a screen of hazel. “We have not yet learned what each other is truly capable of, princess. As for what lies ahead, I can assure you I have no interest in ruling anyone, let alone a race of people who are not my own. I’ve got enough headaches just trying to have a say in the kinds of snacks that get stocked in our kitchen back home.”
“Then why agree to any of this? Why accompany me back to my home and volunteer to aid me? You mentioned before that you have your own reasons for attending me and not dismissing me outright, but you never clarified them. I should like your explanation now, warrior.”
Bronze retreated a step and focused his attention on a patch of moss that had overtaken a nearby tree trunk. His features took on the faraway indifference of a ghost. “It didn’t sit well with me, how I found you. Part of me still can’t believe you’re here walking and talking, let alone asking me for the kind of help you need.” He gently toed the velvet greenery, careful not to disturb it. “I’m a sentinel. Or was at one point. Mages know what I am anymore. Regardless, let’s just say innocents suffering are the kinds of things that can keep a male like me up at night.” The citrine in his gaze darkened until it had been overcome by the forest’s dusty green. “And when you live for-fucking-ever, you’ve got a lot of nights to contemplate the ones that got away.”
Bronze’s head snapped up before Clara had an opportunity to ask what he’d meant. “As I said, I have no interest in ruling. That’s all up to you. I haven’t the head for it. But I’ll help you get there and attend or sign whatever crap I need to until the boat’s going the right way down the river. With you on the damn thing this time.” He winked, and just like that, the light returned to his countenance.
“But what of my father? The other suitors and competing warlords?”
“I’ll take care of ‘em.”
“So simply? Just like that? You don’t even know how many there are!”
“As I said, just like that.”
“How?” She could hardly keep the amazement out of her voice, or her enthusiasm.
“I’ve got some tricks you haven’t seen yet, princess, and some that’ll no doubt be making an appearance shortly.” He patted the side of his rucksack with a wistful sort of fondness.
Just what on earth had he packed in there? Oh, hell, did it matter? He would help her, and he would win. She was sure of it.
This was happening. This was really happening. She’d done it!
A curious effervescence prickled beneath her skin, making her feel lighter than she’d ever hoped to feel. The weight of it all—her foolishness, her people’s disappointment if she failed, her fear of manipulating a male who had only shown her kindness—floated away, allowing her lungs to fill with their first full, easy breath in months.
Was this what it felt like to be lucky? She’d never known luck. Such a concept had always been reserved for children’s stories. But she did have perseverance and preparation on her side, as well as timing. Was that, in and of itself, her own sort of crafted luck? And would it only hold out so long as she learned to trust this male rather than carefully maneuver him through her world the way she’d originally intended?
Yes, she decided with a finality to rival her death, if it came to such a thing. Yes, she would trust him.
The moonstone relic was a warm and comforting weight against her heart. This was the right path, she was sure of it. This path, with this male, at this time.
She’d done what she could and nearly died in the process. Not only had the Moon Mother, in all her wisdom, not abandoned her, but the goddess had sent her a warrior to aid in her plight.
An angel. A sentinel.
Clara’s cheeks pinched with the force of her smile. It had been so long since she’d fully used the thing that the muscles were out of practice. But her wolf still knew how to rejoice. Oh, did she ever. A joyful canine whine vibrated through her and shook the forest floor with the force of its emotion.
Bronze’s features tightened, and the outline of his biceps sharpened beneath his shirt with readied tension.
Confused, Clara tilted her head to the side. Had he heard her wolf? How was that possible? Her mouth fell open to ask him when they both heard the sound again.
Not a whine this time. A growl. A warning, one that always came seconds before the bite.
Clara risked a slow glance back at the path they’d just traveled and stared into the gaping maw of a snarling coyote.
Chapter 11
Bronze took advantage of Clara’s immobilizing fear and flung her behind him. A quick shift of his shoulders had his pack free and anchored like a boulder in front of the female. Before her shock had cleared enough to register the threat, he already had his sickle sword in hand.
