She waved a hand as if brushing away an annoying gnat. “Just because they cared for stallions didn’t mean they were stallions themselves.” Some small demon whispered temptation in her mind, and in that moment she gave in to it. She slanted Serovek a long look and lowered her voice, challenge implicit in every word. “The typical empty boasts shattered by unforgiving reality.”
Serovek straightened from the slouch he’d adopted. The deep blue of his strangely colored eyes had darkened so that she no longer saw the distinction between iris and pupil. He leaned toward her a fraction, his face still as if he sought to mesmerize hers with the power of his stare. “I’m not typical, firefly woman,” he practically purred at her. “Nor do I toss out empty boasts.”
The blush-heat that had settled on her neck and face now spread throughout her entire body at the name he gave her. That heat bore all the hallmarks of anticipation, fascination, and to her chagrin, lust. “You aren’t a stablehand either,” she said before rolling out of reach. If she didn’t put some physical distance between them now, she’d regret it.
Obviously, humans brewed a stronger ale than the Kai did. Surely, it explained why she was seriously considering cutting the laces on the placket of Serovek’s trousers with her claws, crawling onto his lap and learning whether or not he lived up to the reputation of his nickname.
He didn’t try to stop her when she scooted even farther back. She pretended not to see the smirk turning his mouth up at the corners. Straw dust stirred up by her movements made her eyes itch, and she used that excuse to close them against the image of the Beladine Stallion once more reclined against the stable wall, all power, muscle, and grace.
“Don’t you have a nice comfortable bed to sleep in tonight?” she said. “Courtesy of the innkeeper and his wife?” Serovek could sleep in the saddle as easily as she did, but his men would expect him awake and alert when dawn came. Staying up all night with her here in the stables did no one any good.
Her heartbeat stuttered mid beat when he said, “I’ll be sleeping here tonight. I’ll feel better with two of us keeping an eye on him.” He waved a hand at Megiddo’s bier.
Indignation swamped her. Anhuset lunged to her feet to loom over the margrave and glare. “You don’t trust me.” The idea that, despite his assurances, he might not have faith in her ability to protect Megiddo stung. Badly.
He stared up at her, face bland and guarded, as if he had expected such a reaction from her at his news. “I trust you implicitly. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the monk.” The haunted look briefly touched him before flitting away. “I owe him my presence, my assurances that he isn’t forgotten or shunted aside as his brother did to him.”
Her outrage bled out of her like water from a sieve. She regarded him, sitting in the straw, looking for all the world like a man without a care. Until one looked deeper into the blue of his eyes and saw the shadow of melancholy there. “You said no one was keeping tally.”
The lines at the corners of his eyes furrowed deeper with his half smile. “I did, didn’t I?” He flicked a piece of chaff at her. “If you must know, there’s a running wager going on at this moment as to whether or not I’m swiving you or will be swiving you here in the stables.”
He’d danced away from the tangle of emotion the subject of Megiddo seemed to inspire and found steady ground in the irreverent teasing which so often drove her mad. This time Anhuset welcomed it.
“Is that so? And the odds?”
“Four to one in my favor.”
“Wait. There are six of you all together.”
“I want to live to see morning,” he declared. “I abstained from the wager.”
“Such faith your men have in your prowess.” Anhuset recalled the two tavern maids attached to him as he made his way to the stables. That faith wasn’t exactly misplaced. “Who wagered against you?”
“Ogran. He said if I had any sense, I’d spend my evening charming the prettiest alewives instead of chatting it up with a dead monk.”
Knowing what she did about Ogran in their short time on the road, Anhuset easily pictured him saying such a thing. She also heard what he didn’t say but certainly thought when she'd caught him staring at her. Why would the renowned Beladine Stallion want to spend his evenings with an ugly, sharp-toothed, eel-skinned Kai woman?
“I may not remember telling you I wouldn’t forgive you for having me stab you, but I do remember you boasting that if you survived the galla, I’d share your bed when you returned.”
Every speck of humor fled Serovek’s expression, and the blue eyes went black in an instant. He didn’t change position, but every muscle, relaxed just the moment before, fairly quivered with tension now. “I recall that boast as well.” He almost growled the words.
Anhuset crouched in front of him, allowing him to see her gaze touch on various parts of his body, lingering on his wide shoulders and trim waist, the muscled thighs and especially the impressive erection now ridging the laced placket of his trousers. Beladine stallion indeed. “I don’t indulge when I’m on guard duty,” she said in her most no-nonsense tones. “Nor am I a reward for your victory over the galla, though you have my greatest admiration for your bravery. Maybe one day instead, I’ll have you in my bed.”
He didn’t miss a blink, and the smile he turned on her was meant to slay. In that moment, Anhuset was very glad she was Kai and could focus on the strangeness of his looks instead of their seductiveness.
“You once said I wouldn’t survive you,” he teased. “While you were saying hello to my bits with your hand.”
She abandoned her crouch to take a seat in a spot that was a less tempting distance than the one next to him. “Keep that in mind should I ever extend the invitation.” She closed her eyes against the sight of him across from her and tried not to imagine him naked. “Since you plan to stay here and pester me, margrave, you might as well try to sleep and leave me in peace. Besides, I want to dim this lamp before I go blind.”
He caught the extra blanket she tossed him, gave her a salute and turned on his side away from her. “Goodnight, firefly woman,” he muttered before pulling the blanket over his head.
Anhuset shook her head. Silly nickname. Uttered in tones of affection. She dare not dwell on that too long.
She lowered the lamp’s flame a second time, sighing with relief at the returning darkness. Serovek stayed quiet, and she listened to the slowing rhythm of his breathing as he fell deeper into sleep, his ready willingness to embrace slumber wordless proof that he did indeed trust her. They still had hours before dawn, so she took the time to explore the stable’s interior before making a quick reconnoiter of the stableyard and the grounds immediately around the now dark and quiet tavern.
A rustling reached her ears, and she stilled in the shadows, lowering her eyelids to hide her eyeshine as two figures slunk around one corner of the tavern. They skirted the open space of the stableyard with its revealing shards of moonlight reflecting on the ground and kept to the darkness thrown by the inn and two outbuildings before stopping not far from the stables. They didn’t draw closer, only stared as if noting the placement of the doors and high windows shuttered for the night.