Page 23 of Dark & Dreadful Brutes

Ravv collided with the gargoyle, and both men rolled off of me. I gaped at them as ice blocked stone and stone blocked ice.

My eyes could barely keep up with them.

Gleam’s nose bumped my face. When I glanced at her, she grabbed the back of my undergarment in her teeth and towed me away from the fight. She released me before my fire could burn her, thankfully.

Ravv and the gargoyle moved dizzyingly fast, but the gargoyle was clearly slower. When he turned, I saw a thick shard of ice sticking out of his back—and I watched in fascination as he slowed further, and the ice expanded.

The gargoyle finally went stiff.

He slowly crashed to his knees.

Ravv stepped back and waited there until the man’s body was on the sand.

The gray in his skin slowly gave way to the paleness he’d had before he shifted.

Ravv finally created an icy spear in his fist, and then stabbed it into the man’s chest.

His body didn’t budge; he had been dead before it hit him.

Though my stomach churned, something told me that double-checking was necessary with a gargoyle. Ravv hadn’t been violent without reason, yet.

Satisfied that the man was dead, Ravv stormed back to Gleam’s side. He lifted me to my feet before he dropped his bag and kneeled in front of me, grabbing my leg.

“What are you doing?” I checked, uncertain but not entirely against the way he was touching me.

“Looking at your wounds,” he growled back. “That bastard hurt you.”

I glanced down at my leg, and grimaced as I looked at all of my bruises. A few were clearly shaped like handprints—ones that didn’t glow, thankfully.

Ravv didn’t say another word as he lifted and turned my legs one by one, inspecting them.

He checked my arms out next—and then lifted my hair to look at my back and neck.

The look in his eyes was not a happy one when he finally stepped around to the front of me and started undoing the laces on my undergarment. He didn’t pay my fire any mind, since it had never tried to burn him.

“Uh, what are you doing?” I asked him again, though the answer was still obvious.

“Checking your wounds.” He didn’t even look up from what he was doing.

I plopped a hand down over the laces. “No, you do not have permission to strip me naked. Next time, ask.”

He finally looked at me. His eyes held enough silent fury to make me reconsider what I’d said. “You’re hurt. It’s my fault. I need to see the extent of the damage.”

I blinked.

I wasn’t…

I mean…

Did I really care if he saw me naked?

No, I decided, I did not. He was ancient, and undoubtedly had plenty of sexual experiences. And he’d proven that he could keep his hands to himself when we slept together at night, so… I trusted him.

Enough to strip, at least.

I finally pulled my hand away.

He made quick work of the fasteners, and then stripped the undergarment off my body. I flushed a little at his attention, despite the ache in my entire body, and by some miracle, the fabric didn’t burn.

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