Fae King's Sacrifice (Court of Bones and Ash Book 3) by Layla Harper

Author:Layla Harper [Harper, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy Romance Fiction
Publisher: Layla Harper
Published: 2020-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Rogar

“Do you trust me?”

Cupping a hand over her eyes, Kyra cranes her neck, her bright blue gaze scaling the rock face. “I trust you. It’s the cliff I’m worried about.”

I chuckle. “You will not fall.”

Her forehead crumples under the weight of her scrutiny. “That’s all right. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

If you die, I will tear the Otherworld apart to get you back.

I tap her nose gently to keep from squeezing her to my chest, my emotions too raw at the idea of losing her. “We can await the oasis, or utilize the water collected from the smaller pockets—”

“No, no. The prospect of submerging myself in water, even if it’s only a few feet deep, is so worth a plunge-y death. That is, if I fall.”

“You will not fall,” I growl.

“Famous last words,” she teases before her mouth again twists side to side, contemplating the merits of the climb.

“Are you frightened by the height?”

“No.” Her answer is immediate, prickling the burgeoning pride I feel for my sweet mate. “I love tower drop rides. They’re my absolute favorite.”

I do not ask what the term means. I have grown accustomed to the oddities in our conversations due to the magic’s interpretation of her language.

“Is it clean though? I’m not going to die from some flesh-eating bacteria or killer algae?”

Case in point. What is algae?

“The water appears free of debris. There is very little sand on the rock floor, protected as it is by the canyon walls on each side. The accumulation is most likely due to a recent rainfall.” As were the smaller pockets we discovered in other parts of the crag.

But the bundles of brush stored for fire?

Those concern me.

Kyra runs her fingers through the long length of her dark hair, wrinkling her nose when she smells the ends. “Now if only we could magic up some shampoo and conditioner. Maybe some soap, or a change of clothes,” she adds wistfully. “But beggars can’t be choosers.”

Little does she know I plan to surprise her with a bar of soap stolen from the tavern. “The clothes will have to wait until we come upon a village.” I pause, nerves rattling in my gut. “I climb well in this body, but I am stronger in my other form. I will not hurt you. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“I’m not afraid.” Her words ring true. “Does it hurt, the change?”

There is nothing in her world that compares to the experience of shifting from one form to another, so I shrug. “The pain becomes secondary, and at times, it is a release.”

The transition begins, my muscles stretching and pulling, my eyes locking to hers as my flesh expands. She has seen me in my battle form previously, but this shift is unlike the others. It feels intimate. It strips me bare and exposes the parts of myself that have been hated my whole existence.

Will disgust spring to her eyes?

She says nothing when I straighten to my full height, my orc nose inhaling her sweet scent.

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