Page 157 of Born for Lace

“Are they dangerous?”

“Yes.” I hear him grunt, then the unmistakable thud of the lifeless bodies hitting the ground. “They’ll maul a raider to pieces within a minute.”

I swallow, my eyes darting to the door to check it is closed. The children are safe inside. Two under one means lots of intermittent sleeping. “Then why are you happy about the killer animals in the mountains?”

I hear his amused huff and can’t help smiling despite the conversation.

“Because I can use them. I can push them back further into a position. Feed them to keep them in place, station them, condition them. They’ll have pups. We’ll have fresh meat forever.”

Pups? Right. Right…

I don’t want to know. “Butyou’re bleeding,” I say, jabbing my finger in his direction. “Did they hurt you?”

“Wasn’t prepared. Won’t happen again.” He sounds deliciously unaffected by the blood and wounds, his tone guttural and hoarse from overuse. Has he been in a fight? Snarling and growling? I often forget he is not a raider, not a Common, barely human—a monster in his own way. I wonder what the Aquilla cats think of him, when they sniff him out. Do they think prey or… No, they know. There is no mistaking that Lagos is a predator.

“Think of them as security,” he adds, moving around behind me, rustling and hauling the animals. “No one can come from the west, north, or south without encountering their burrows. I only have to watch the east.”

“And the kids? Are we safe.”

“I’ve built you strong walls, little flower. They can’t jump over them.” He pauses, and I find my gaze wandering up the ancient brickwork of the farmhouse. The weathered stone is entwined with delicate vines, like pretty green ribbons.

“So…” I chew my lip, listening to the subtle movements behind me. I know what he is doing, putting the animals into the crate we keep in the corner. It is full of salt—and other minerals I don’t know—and when I go to sleep, he will preserve the meat. “This is a good thing?”

“Yes.” I hear him shuffling, grunting some more and then he says, “You can turn around now, little flower. It’s safe for your precious gaze.”

I turn to face him, my eyes curiously scanning around him, from the solid door to the clusters of pots, to the crates, and back to him. “I like my walls. They are big and powerful walls, and everything is more remarkable when it’s big and powerful.”

He hums. “Hm. Good.”

“I can stay here forever, Lagos, but what about you? You’re a rogue.”

“No.” He strides over to me, his potent energy cracks through the air. “I’m a Xin De man obsessed with a Common girl.” Stopping in front of me, his intense stare cuts through his lashes, his expression deadly serious, with blood still splattered across his striking features. “And I want some quiet with her.”

I gaze up at the monster that I love, my heart humming in my chest. “The kids might want to leave one day?” I whisper, fully aware of this sad truth. They will need to explore and meet people and visit places to find theirbits.

“Anything could happen in two decades, little flower.” A warm hand slides between my hair and the nape of my neck, cradling my head with gentle dominance. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Two decades?

But he is Lagos the Rogue. Travelled The Cradle, a fisherman, a vigilante, a saviour, a Shadow, an assassin, met thousands of people, probably slept with hundreds?—

A niggling entity inside my belly warns me; he will get bored of me, of this life. "What will you do next?” I ask, willing my voice to mask my anxieties.

He cocks a brow. "Next?”

"Yes. What is your next task?”

"Fix the windows,” he states, a small grin tugging at his lips, suspicious of my questioning. “Stop them from scaring my girls at night.”

"How long will that take?"

"Few weeks,” he grunts.

I give him big, pleading eyes.

"And then what?"

"A dam.”

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