Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Do not be alarmed,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” His eyes traveled her face again, slower now. “In fact, I would like to speak with you. My castle is nearby. You will come stay a day or two as my guest.”
Elara felt the trap close. “I thank you, but I have business elsewhere. I must decline.”
His smile thinned. “That was not an invitation but rather an offer of protection.”
“I require none,” she said.
The air sharpened.
“I think,” he said, irritation slipping through now, “you mistake your position. You walk alone. No kin at your side. No escort. And I am chieftain here.”
“That does not give you claim to me,” she said, her voice steady though her pulse thundered.
His gaze hardened. “It does give me authority to keep those on my land safe.”
She took a step back and quickly decided it would be wise if he knew she was wed. “I wait for my husband. He is not far off.”
He took two steps forward, closing the space between them. “How convenient you suddenly remember that.”
“Something I didn’t think would prove a necessity after making it known after I politely declined your invitation.”
“It is not an invitation,” he snapped, annoyed. “You will come with me.”
She heard it then, the distant thunder of hooves.
Hope flared bright and dangerous.
She stepped back, starting to retreat, but his hand shot out, fingers clamping around her arm. Pain bit as he twisted, forcing her back toward him.
A cry tore from her throat.
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER.”
The command cracked through the village like a blade striking stone.
Chieftain Pratus froze.
Dar rode straight at them, fury written in every line of him, his horse skidding to a halt so close dust flew. His men fanned out behind him, silent and lethal.
He dismounted, his hand going to his sword, not drawing it, but ready.
“I will not warn you again,” he said, his voice low, deadly calm. “Release her.”
Chieftain Pratus sneered, tightening his grip. “She is on my—”
Dar moved.
Steel flashed, not striking flesh, but close enough to kiss skin. The chieftain hissed and released her with a curse, stumbling back as Dar stepped between them, one arm going around Elara, pulling her hard against him.
“Touch her again,” Dar said softly, “and you’ll taste blood.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Elara felt Dar’s heart hammering beneath her cheek, his hold unyielding, protective in a way that left no doubt—no question of who claimed her, or why.
And every man watching knew it too.
Chieftain Pratus straightened, masking his momentary surprise with a sneer and spoke loudly. “You overstep. This is my land. You have no authority here, Hunter.”
Dar did not move, did not loosen his hold on Elara.
Instead, he lifted his head and let his voice carry—measured, clear, and sharp enough to cut. “I have every authority when you dare touch… my wife.”
The word struck the air like a blow.
A murmur rolled through the villagers, sharp intakes of breath, startled whispers.
Dar went on, his gaze never leaving the chieftain. “And you forget yourself. This is not your land. All land in Scotara belongs to King Dravic. You rule Ancrum at his pleasure.”
“And Hunters are nothing more than mere servants of the king,” Chieftain Pratus said with a raised voice.
“Loyal servants,” Dar corrected sternly, “who the king rewards well. I am a proud Hunter and heir to Chieftain Cadmus of Venngraith.”
Pratus’s color drained from his face.
“I would be more than willing to escort you to Caerith,” he continued with authority, “so you may explain to the king why you saw fit to lay hands on the future Chieftain of Venngraith’s wife.”
Pratus’s jaw ground in anger, pride warring with survival, and survival won.
“I want no trouble with the king,” he said stiffly.
“Wise choice,” Dar replied.
Chieftain Pratus took a step back, then another, his eyes flicking to the Hunters standing behind Dar, to the villagers watching from doorways and windows. His authority here had cracked, if not broken.
“This matter is ended,” he said curtly, as if declaring it so could make it true.
Dar corrected him once again. “Until King Dravic hears about it and decides differently.”
With a sharp gesture to his men, Pratus turned away.
They followed, retreating and leaving behind a village exhaling all at once.
Dar did not move until they were gone.
Only then did he lower his voice and bend his head to Elara. “Are you hurt?”
Worry mixed with anger in his gray eyes, and she shook her head, still feeling the imprint of his grip, not the chieftain’s, but Dar’s. Steady and firm.
“Nay,” she said softly. “But I am very glad you got here when you did.”
“You should never have been touched,” Dar said, his voice low and lethal.
He turned from her then, slowly, deliberately, until he faced the villagers who had not yet looked away.
Every eye was on him.
Dar took a single step forward, his presence filling the space the chieftain had vacated. His voice carried easily, honed by command and meant to be obeyed. “I am here to hunt.”