Page 43 of Blood & Claw

The fire crackled and popped, sparks spraying into the darkness.

Ailsa sat cross-legged before it, cloak pulled tight. Dale knelt opposite, whittling a piece of wood with a small, thin-bladed knife.

Her muscles were stiff, yet for the first time in days, her feet didn’t throb. But it was impossible to relax.

Not after her brush with the aughisky.

Not when Kayla was somewhere out there in the dark.

“I wonder if Kayla has tried to escape,” Ailsa said then, breaking the long silence between them. After he’d rescued her from a grisly death, she’d said little—she’d been too embarrassed—but she was recovering now. “She’s not one to submit easily.”

Dale glanced up, his brow furrowing.

The flickering firelight highlighted the handsome lines of his face—the slant of his high cheekbones, his strong brow, and the slight cleft to his chin.

Once again, a sense she’d seen him before nagged at her.

It irritated her that she couldn’t place him.

Shadows played across his throat from the dancing flames between them, and she found her gaze drawn down to it.

To where she could have sworn a vein pulsed just beneath the skin.

She imagined drawing a sharp fingernail down the column of his throat, and bright blood welling. She’d lean in then, and lick—

Gods!

She went rigid, ice flooding through her veins.

What was she thinking?

That was fucking depraved.

Cutting her gaze away from his throat, her heart started to beat wildly.

She recalled then how she’d questioned that vagrant back in Braewall. How her nostrils had flared when she’d scented his blood, how it had made her feel … hungry. She’d pushed aside her reaction then, for she’d been panicked about Kayla, but she didn’t ignore it now.

Was she going insane?

First the violence, and now she was having thoughts about blood.

Dizziness assailed her.

“Your mentor certainly has some fight in her.” Oblivious to her dismay, Dale dug the tip of his knife into the piece of wood he was whittling. “There were signs of a struggle at their lodgings in Farnoch … and she’d marked the floor with a triple spiral. In her own blood.”

Ailsa blinked, forcing herself to focus on him. “Why didn’t you say something before?” she asked hoarsely.

Dale cast her a sharp look. “I forgot.”

She bristled, even as her breathing came quick and shallow. It was hard to concentrate. She was still reeling from that horrifying urge. “That mark calls upon earth, air, and fire … for help.”

“I know.” He paused then. “Does the tattooist have a quarrel with anyone?”

Ailsa’s first instinct was to say no immediately. Instead, she cast her mind back over the past moons. She couldn’t remember any disputes.

If Kayla had made enemies, she didn’t know about them.

It struck her then that she knew little about her mentor’s past, her life before Braewall. Kayla rarely spoke of it.