Page 41 of The Blood that Binds Us

My hand reaches up and caresses the spot he bit, the skin there now fully healed. I should have done a lot worse than slap him.Arrogant bastard.Who goes around biting people, honestly?

A bare-chested man with a head of golden hair and large brown eyes catches my attention from his perch next to the nearby fire pit. He watches me with approval, and judging by his tented pants, that glaze in his eyes is pure lust. Not really my type, but if Eldridge is off somewhere in those woods, tongue dee—

I refuse to finish the thought. I do not care where Eldridge is, or who he’s with. Just as he shouldn’t care that I’m now directing my full attention on the blonde man whose hand now openly rubs the crotch of his tightening pants while not breaking eye contact. Modesty has no place at the Rut. I suck in my bottom lip and bat my eyelashes in his direction—come and get it, mister beastly man.

An arm wraps around my waist and pulls me against a hard mass, shattering the drunken moment I was sharing with the less than handsome stranger. I whip towards the bearer of the mystery arm, ready to bark an obscenity, but the warning flashing in his stark green eyes halts the words deep in my throat.

“We need to go,” Sin says to me. His tone is restrained, but the tightness of his jaw tells me he’s holding back the urge to throw me over his shoulder and haul me out of here.

And being the drunken, stubborn ass that I am, I untangle myself from his arm and plant my feet. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m not asking, Wren.” Angrier now.

“And I’m not leaving. In fact, you rudely interrupted me as I was about to approach that handsome gentleman over there and ask if he wanted to dance,” I say matter-of-factly, lazily pointing in his direction.

Sin’s eyes dart to the blonde man now staring at both of us for a brief second before dropping back to mine and narrowing. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough,” I say and then double over as laughter shakes my entire body.

I think I hear him swear under his breath, but I can’t make it out over my chuckling.

He sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. He’s so sexy when he does that.Gah, stop it, Wren. Definitely too much to drink.

“Now that I know you went and got yourself inebriated, we really need to get out of here.”

“Why, so you can bite me some more? You sick fuck—is that why you ran off? So you could rub your cock while you thought about carving your initials into my forehead or something?”

I’m never drinking again. Especially not liquor meant for transcendents on their rowdiest night of the year. Sin arches an eyebrow, and for a second, I think I actually left him too stunned to speak before the reality of whatever situation we’re apparently experiencing sinks back in and his usual scowl settles on his face. He reaches for my hand, but I yank it out of reach at the last second. I think I utter something about him being too slow, but then suddenly, my arm is being squeezed in his too-large hand, my reflexes severely hindered by the drink.

“Walk with me, or I’m carrying you out of here like a child,” he warns, his voice low and threatening.

Before I can make some remark daring him to try it, a slow clapping behind me draws my attention. A man with a scruffy beard and a matching head of dark brown hair approaches, a woman with a long braid at his side.Wait.

I know her.

My eyes narrow into slits, and my fingernails dig into my palms.

Margalo.

I’d recognize that nasty woman anywhere, though she looks slightly different when she’s not jerking me around by a collar. They won’t recognize me or Sin thanks to Cassius’s potion, which I am now hoping more than ever holds up. The clapping comes from the man at her side, and a small group of the transcendents who were partying just moments ago begin to close in on us. My eyes zero in on the Legion emblem pinned to his leather tunic, and by the pair’s growing audience, the others noticed too.

He stops clapping and spreads his arms out in front of him, gesturing to the celebration.

“Quite the turn-out this year, friends.” He smiles widely, and Margalo mirrors him, but her grin doesn’t meet her wicked eyes.

“Legion are no friend of ours,” a woman behind me spits in their direction.

The man’s mouth falls open in an exaggerated “o,” and he clasps his hands together in front of him. “Hey, hey, hey, we don’t want any trouble, folks. We’re simply here to burn off some steam like the rest of you. I’m Marcus—and this is Margalo.” The edge to his words suggests trouble isexactlywhat they’re looking for.

Legion may be supplemented with a large number of transcendents in their army, but they don’t speak for the race as a whole. Most shifters despise Legion—believing they are to blame for the kingdom’s growing prejudices against their kind. And they’re probably not wrong to think that. Ephraim may have started the fight with shifter-kind, but Legion’s response certainly escalated it. I have a never-ending list of choice words to label Legion as, but cowardly is not one of them. They are bold to show their faces at the Rut.

Or just plain stupid.

Sin’s hand drops to my waist as if holding me in place at his side. This is why he wanted us out of here. He must have seen Legion approach from wherever he was off hiding. They couldn’t have been here for very long given they’re just now being noticed by the attendees, which means Sin must have had eyes on this place the entire time.

Eyes on me.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have room for a few more. Me and my friends back there,” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder to the woods behind him, “would love to have a little fun tonight.”

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