Page 36 of Bitten

ChapterSix

The following morning…

Caelian turned the page slowly, his lids already trying to fall. It was barely eight in the morning—too early for this torment—and he was already thinking of slipping back into his comfortable bed.

He eyed his golden guardsman. It was the same shifter he’d been watched by every other day. Cannon. He was a foul-mouthed, sex-crazed, farting imbecile. Within minutes, he’d be relieved by his partner, Garret, who was much easier on his nerves. The pair traded off every twenty-four hours and had done so since he’d begun his search for the all-powerful needle.

Glancing around his haystack, he sighed, knowing there was no way he’d find anything there. What a waste. He returned his stare to the book and read the next few pages. It was the next to the last of the books his grandfather had brought him, but there hadn’t been anything within them to give him anything.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the glint of gold and knew Garret had arrived. Thank the gods.

“Caelian?” came a growl.

Caelian lifted his stare from his book, curious what Garret had to tell him.

Only, it wasn’t Garret.

A shiver raced down Caelian’s spine as he met a pair of black eyes that seemed to somehow glint with light.

The guardsman was gorgeous. Dark blond hair that looked perfectly tousled. A strong jaw… soft lips…

Kissable lips.

He moved closer, pinning Caelian with a glare. He gawked. Seriously gawked, his lips opening, but no sound coming out.

Say something, you dolt!

“I suppose you’re today’s babysitter?”

The guard didn’t say anything. Didn’t crack a smile. Just stood there, glaring.

A sense of self-consciousness came over Caelian. He reached up to his nose, dabbing it, worried he had a booger or something as shame-inspiring hanging from his nose. When he was fairly sure he was free and clear, he sat up a bit straighter. “Take a picture. It might last longer.”

The guardsman rolled his eyes and sighed before turning to the fartmonger, Cannon. “You can go.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Cannon said, rising. “I’ve got a warlock waiting for me at home for a good pounding.”

Ugh. Caelian winced, hating Cannon more and more each day. If he had to spend much more time with the ignorant bastard, he might take that exile he’d been threatened with. It might be easier to handle.

Cannon left them. The new guard remained standing, hovering over Caelian.

“It’ll be a bit hard to read with you standing there, trying to look intimidating. You’re not, by the way. Intimidating. Not in the least.” He so was. Those black eyes glaring. That angled face. Those wide shoulders and narrow waist… thick thighs. My gods, to have that man for a night in my bed. His stare slid to the bulge in the armor, knowing each set was made for its wearer. And the guard appeared to have plenty to protect. I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

Yet he didn’t move.

“You hard of hearing?”

The guardsman leaned in, inhaling slightly. He eyed Caelian close. “What are you?”

Caelian frowned. “Not rude. Unlike other people.”

The guardsman narrowed his eyes before taking a step back—and allowing Caelian some breathing room. His stare followed the guard as the man went to the end of the stacks he sat between and moved out into the aisle linking the stacks. Unable to focus, he watched as the guardsman searched the whole area, looking for only the gods knew what.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m supposed to be guarding you,” the man said before walking down to the opposite end and searching again. When he walked closer, he took a seat on the table, his back to Caelian. The man’s head whipped back and forth, ever vigilant.

Making him almost wish the fartmonger was back.

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