Page 117 of Centaur Bolt

Havoc poked at the wrapped meat, rearranging them. “Shifting to human helps to heal bone,” he growled. “But the soft tissue stuff sometimes gets worse.”

Marcus didn’t even look at the Dragon. “When we find the Watcher, she can heal me,” he said.

“Are you sure this Witch is a Watcher?” I asked.

“Nope,” Havoc answered. “We’ll ask around in town.”

Marcus raised his head. “I’llask around in town. We need to get her exact location, and the locals will have more information.”

“You can’t go in looking like that,” the Dragon said.

It was true that Marcus’s attempt at scale clothing lacked coverage in many interesting respects. They allowed me to check our bits of his real estate that sent my pulse pounding.

Not that it needed any help in that regard. Instead of abating, my face flushed hotter. The back of my tee shirt clung to my skin, my nipples stood at such rigid attention they poked against the fabric, and the ache between my legs had become so powerful it distracted me from doing anything useful.

To make matters worse, Marcus was far from oblivious to my state. I was pretty sure he’d adopted his current position because his scaly pants could no longer hide his reaction. Dark scales appeared and disappeared at random across his forearms. And he kept inhaling, long and deep, as though I smelled particularly delicious.

Which, after riding for hours through bush, I most definitely did not.

But when Havoc rose and walked over to us, Marcus growled.

It was a distinctly non-horse sound, and when I glanced at him, startled, his eyes had gone dark.

The Dragon’s response was a snarl that caused every hair on my body to stand on end. “Don’t forget yourself, horse.”

“Stay away from her.” Marcus’s voice had gone almost as deep as the Dragon’s.

They looked ready to tear each other to shreds. Over me? What was I, a piece of meat? Suddenly, I was royally pissed off. “Don’t we have enough problems without you two getting into it?”

When their gazes remained locked, I stood up. Tried to ignore the way the world spun as I clutched my torn bit of shirt, and marched over to the stream before bending down to rinse it out.

Silence behind me. When I glanced back, they were both staring at my butt. And their eyes wereglowing.

What. The. Fuck. The intensity sent heat pulsing right through to my core. But be damned if I was an item to be ogled. So I rose, spun, and planted my fists on my hips. “Did I say either of you could stare at my butt?”

Marcus blinked and had the grace to look embarrassed. Havoc’s lips, however, twitched upward. “Just admiring the scenery.”

Marcus’s gaze shot back to the Dragon. “Not your scenery,” he hissed.

Okay. This had gone far enough. “If I want to fuck either one of you, I’ll let you know,” I spat. “Right now, I’d rather hump a toad.”

They both stared at me. My face this time. Not my butt, or any other body parts that would land them in deeper trouble. Then the Dragon asked, “What’s a toad?”

“A much smaller, uglier, wartier version of you,” I snapped, throwing the bit of wet tee shirt at Marcus.

It would help if my stupid boobs weren’t beckoning like a landing beacon and my legs weren’t desperate to wrap around anything with a dick. At the moment, either of them would satisfy the burning ache—but thoughts of both had my face flushing bright red.

What the livingfuckwas up with me? Too much time hanging around with Kiko. Had to be that.

Yet as I stared, Havoc’s human nostrils flared wide, and Marcus’s gave an excellent approximation of his horse form.

I turned away, dropping my nose to give a cursory sniff as I did so. Ugh. No way this body smelled good. Not unless these dudes were cavemen.

I supposed shifters belonged in a category all their own.

When I rotated back to them, they were both, again, fixated below my waist. Good. Bloody. Grief.

“Okay you two, I feel like crap, and we all need rest. Can we agree not to stare at my butt for the rest of the evening?”

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