Page 98 of Vasmora

“She’s coming with me.” There was no question in Zevander’s tone.

“She’s not,” he argued. “If you intend to leave this cave any time soon.”

Three and a half seconds. That’s all it’d take to burn his leathers, mask, and body into ash and stone. Not even the wolf behind him would be able to counter an attack fast enough to save him.

Maevyth surged to her feet and stumbled. “You’re not taking him.”

Leaning against the stone wall, Zevander crossed his arms and shrugged. “You heard the lady.”

“Ah, you stubborn bastard.” The man rubbed a hand down his masked face. “Has anyone laid so much as a finger on either one of you since you arrived?”

Zevander didn’t bother to answer.

“She’ll be fine,” he said to Zevander, then turned to Maevyth. “He’ll be fine. I promise.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward the beastly wolf still standing guard outside of the cave. “Trust me, nothing’s coming close to this cave. They’d have to get past the wolves patrolling the camp before this one. Isn’t happening.”

“Why not take both of us, then?” Maevyth asked.

“Because my wolf friend tells me you’re mortal. And I don’t need anyone catching a mortal disease in this camp. Nothing against you personally. We just like to protect our own. It’s better if you stay confined.”

“Who summons me?” Zevander countered.

The guard snorted. “The Lord of Darkness,” he said in an amused voice. “Something tells me you’ll get along swimmingly.”

“Your leader?”

“Yes. He has some questions for you.”

Sighing, Maevyth turned toward Zevander. “I’ll be fine. I’ve suffered worse.” The thin waver in her voice told him otherwise.

The guard glanced down to the tray of food and back. “Was the meat shit?”

Ignoring him, Zevander put his back to the guard. “Say the word,” he said, his voice low. “And every one of them will burn.”

Her brow flickered as she seemed to understand the weight of his words. She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” A strained smile pulled at her lips. “I could probably stand to eat a bit more. The fire feels good. So long as that wolf doesn’t get hungry.”

“Oh, they’ll eat a human, but we’re not their preferred meat. ‘Sides, you don’t have enough on your bones for this one. She’d much prefer the big guy.” The guard chuckled to himself.

Chatty bastard.

Zevander shot him an unamused glance and turned back to Maevyth, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

She stepped to the side, regarding the guard with furrowed brow. “You promise me that you won’t touch a single hair on his head, or I will unleash a plague in this camp, the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you are, in fact, diseased?”

Zevander hooked her chin and guided her face back to his. “It’s nice to hear you haven’t lost your thorns.”

She lowered her gaze, her fingers biting into his bicep, and he felt the pull in his chest, not rejection or frustration. Something deeper. A secret shared between them. “Don’t let them take you from me. Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I’ll come back.” He summoned a scorpion to his palm and watched it crawl onto her outstretched palm as if it were just as much at home there. “I won’t be long,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Her fingers curled tighter into his leather armor, and she let out a shaky exhale before releasing him.

Zevander strode up to the guard who held copper shackles–a means to bind his magic. Too bad it didn’t work on sablefyre. “Harm her, and neither copper, wolf, nor the gods will save you.”

* * *

Zevander’s eyes tracked every tent and body that he passed, as he led the way through the camp toward the much bigger tent, his movement controlled like a caged predator. He counted guards and wolves present in the camp, noted weapons, horses, spaces between tents that led toward the dark woods behind them. To their credit and diligence, all of the entry points were well guarded.