Page 99 of Blood of Ancients

Chapter 27

Ravinica

THE RIVER TH’RACE WASwide and winding, curving out from the tree line before disappearing deeper into the forest.

And there, rummaging around in a glade, was my man. Pale and sexy as ever, showing his bare back and scarred flesh, the swirling blue runic tattoos that spread across his sharp shoulders and muscled back.

Magnus was about thirty feet from us, shirtless, chopping wood with an axe near the bank of the crystal-clear river. He looked pristine and glistened with sweat, with his auburn hair wet, perhaps from a recent plunge in the water.

A rattling sigh left my lips. The world settled around me, everything closing in as I watched Magnus grunt and work, oblivious and beautiful. My heart soared and tears came to my eyes.

To think, I’d nearly lost him. Everyone else he’d traveled with had died, save one escapee. Our farewell to each other had only been brief, and not meaningful in the way it should have been if it was to be ourfinalfarewell.

I’ll never take these guys for granted again. Any of them.

The Skogalfar made nary a sound as they hemmed in. My group was also relatively silent since we’d been trained by none other than Kelvar Hersir to be that way.

Magnus didn’t notice us at first.

Jhaeros and the wood elves studied Magnus with scrutinizing eyes, like he was a feral animal they wanted to domesticate or put in a zoo. Their murmurs were low, whispers to each other as they pointed and chuckled at the way he chopped wood on a stump.

I flared my nostrils, frustrated they were poking fun at my lovable sociopath.Laugh it up, assholes. I’m guessing you don’t get too much action out here, so this is your one big event for the generation—a sexy tattooed human showing up on your doorstep.

When I thought of it like that, my anger subsided. I almost felt bad for the Skogalfar. My “Races & Realms” book hadn’t even mentioned them. Which meant they must have been forgotten for the more illustrious Ljosalfar and Dokkalfar elves.

If the Skogalfar moved here from cities, hundreds of years ago, does that mean they technicallyareLjosalfar? Light elves who have . . . lost the sunlight, perhaps, to make their homes under the canopies?

It was a question worth asking later. Everything in Alfheim intrigued me. The fact we hadn’t been slain on the spot by the wood elves was also promising for my endgame goal.

For now, my focus was on Magnus. A small smile came to my lips, and a gentle hand fell on my shoulder. I glanced over, blinking away tears, and Grim smiled at me.

“Well, little sneak? You should be the one to greet him.”

I swallowed hard over a lump in my throat. He gave me a gentle push and I started forward. One of the wood elves hissed at me leaving the thick trees and their entourage, but Corym scolded him in the elvish tongue.

I took three steps, only getting a few feet closer—

And Magnus straightened. His axe was lifted, muscles corded and vascular in the elven sunlight, when it dropped to his side.His head raised, chin tipping as he seemed to breathe in the sky and pollen swimming in the air around him.

He abruptly spun, as if he could scent me, even though he was no shifter with preternatural smelling abilities.

No. Not scentme. Scent my blood.

His eyes bulged in perhaps one of the first moments of shock I’d ever seen from the cool customer, always guarding his emotions like they didn’t exist. I was the only one who could bring these tender moments out of him—just like was happening now.

I smiled wide, showing my teeth, choking back a sob while I ugly laughed. “Magnus.”

“Silvermoon!” he roared.

Then he was running, closing the gap in long strides, barreling through the high grass and around the twisting trees.

Bracing for impact, I still wasn’t ready for the sheer force of his embrace, his arms wrapping tight around my middle like I was his everything—the only thing that mattered in his world.

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