The Immortal's Hunger by Kelli Ireland

Author:Kelli Ireland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-10-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Gareth silently fumed as he moved down the river’s bank, stepping around stretches of slick rock and muddy patches. He assumed Ashley followed, but he couldn’t hear her passage over his own heaving breath. And he wasn’t looking back. She’d either keep up or not.

Whatever.

Gods, she’d pissed him off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so mad. Had he been a whole man and not the shadow of his former self, he might have found a way to exercise some grace. Not now. Not when he was faced with calling the goddess out and challenging her claim to his soul or, worse, being claimed by her as she’d alleged. He needed every ounce of strength he could possibly harness. This, this epithicas, rendered him as randy as a buck caught in the rut. With that singular physical need dominating his mind, he was doomed. He’d never be able to fight with the focus required to beat the Goddess of Phantoms and War. Ashley had sealed his fate. No matter what options Dylan, as Assassin, might discover, no matter the possibilities the man offered, the phoenix behind him had stolen the choices that could have been open to him. Those choices might have saved him from the Well of Souls and the goddess’s dictatorship.

He reached the bridge and trudged up the bank, pausing at the road. There wasn’t a car in sight. At least they’d be able to go on without being observed. Killavullen was such a small village that strangers would be memorable, particularly strangers on foot. Should anyone stop them and question their presence or offer them a ride, they could claim they were newlyweds who had rented a small place in the neighboring village of Shonee and had walked to the market.

His mind took off on the tangent involving newlyweds and the activities inherent to them, spearing through him, driving his physical needs—or, if he believed the phoenix, the epithicas—to a new level of desperation.

A duffel bag hit the ground near his feet with a clattering whump. Ashley crested the steep berm and, recovering the bag, moved past him without comment.

That he was the injured party but she was behaving with apparent self-righteous indignation pissed him off. He started after her, long strides putting him next to her in seconds. “You care to explain why you believe you’ve the right to take the piss out of me over wrongs done me?”

She ignored him and kept walking.

He sped up and rounded on her, forcing her to a stop. “I’m serious, Ashley.”

“And here I thought that, given your tone, you were having a go at me.”

She made to go around him, but he moved to intercept. “We’ll hash this out. Now.”

“I’m under the direct impression you’re better with your fists than with vocabulary. Lucky for you I’m not of a mind to kick your ass. Step aside.”

He couldn’t stop his slack-jawed response. “You think... That is...” Clearing his throat, he fought the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

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