Page 78 of White Raven

As a woman, if they didn’t kill you, it was because you were meant for something far worse than death.

“Huginn-Muninn.” A chuckle came over from the fire. “King spends years trying to infiltrate Stallard’s castle with top-tier spies to get her . . .” Bjørn cackled louder. “But leave it to you to do it in a few months!” He rubbed his belly, his genuine humor feeling at complete odds with my situation. “And clearly getting her to come willingly!” His laughter boomed, shaking his whole body, motioning toward me. “Not even tied up, standing by your side, ready to fight with that tiny thing when you thought we were thieves!” He roared. “You are a fucking legend, brother!”

My gaze darted to Onyx’s, swallowing back the feeling of humiliation, realizing he was right. I stood with my own kidnapper like we were a team.

Allies.

“Don’t take it too hard, lille ravn.” Bjørn winked at me, his open friendliness extremely jarring. “Stronger women by far have fallen for this stoic bastard.”

“Can you shut up, Bjørn.” Brynn folded her arms, her jaw tightening in irritation. “Let’s set up camp and eat, so we can get an early start tomorrow.”

“Oooo . . . think I touched a nerve.” Bjørn winked at me, the smile not leaving his face. His unguarded happiness was hard to associate with what I had in my mind as a Night Hunter. Someone malicious and deadly, devoid of any personality except cruelty. Not this huge guy, who like his namesake bear seemed cuddlier than savage.

She glared at him, stomping off.

“Don’t leave us again, Onyx,” Bjørn pleaded. “She likes ordering us around too much.”

“Why I left her in charge,” Onyx replied. “Otherwise, you assholes would still be drunk in a pub, missing your clothes and money.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.” Bjørn snickered. “And that only happened once . . . okay maybe four times.”

“In a month,” Onyx scoffed. “Go, help Brynn out.”

“The Sjef is back.” Boss. Bjørn winked again at me before retreating after Brynn.

“You too, Sven,” he ordered the younger man.

“Yes, Hersir.” He responded, running off after the others.

Onyx and I were alone.

He slowly turned to face me, taking a step toward me. “Wren . . .” My name was a stab in the heart, dragging down to my gut with the force of a knife.

“No.” I retreated, keeping the same distance, my head wagging back and forth, still fighting the truth. I needed to hear him say it. “You’re a Night Hunter?”

“Yes.”

“The hersir of the Night Hunters.”

“Yes,” he repeated in the same monotone voice.

Biting down, I tried to hide the emotion clogging my throat. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Why would I?”

“Right,” I whispered, realizing how little we actually knew about each other. “I’m just a prisoner to you.”

“Wren—”

“No!” I belted, shaking off the intimacy of my moniker. “You don’t get to use my name! Not now. That’s not what we are. You are a Night Hunter and I’m just the prey, right?”

“Yes!” He huffed, his arms going out. “What else do you think this is? That we are lovers venturing north on holiday?”

I sucked in, stepping back more, the hurt and embarrassment digging in deeper.

“I was sent to retrieve you for the king,” he spat, moving up to me, his frame looming over mine. He seized the blade from my grip. “That is all there was. My duty.”

“Your duty?” I spat back, inching even closer, my hands undoing the cloak ties, letting the fabric slip off my shoulders to the ground. “This was part of your duty?” I trailed my hand down my inked neck, his throat bobbing as his gaze followed the healing symbols. “Making me yours?”