Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Ripper took a step toward her. ‘When time passed without anything happening to her, I thought you’d decided to let my punishment be enough.’
Opening a jar of honey, Emberlyn again briefly flicked her gaze his way. ‘I was just lulling her into a false sense of security. It makes things more fun.’
‘Agreed,’ said Kerr. ‘You need to keep this witch, Rip, because she’s awesome.’
‘Thank you, Kerr.’ Emberlyn dropped a little honey into the cauldron. ‘So, she reported it you, huh?’
‘She did,’ Kerr confirmed with a nod.
‘Did she cry? I was hoping she’s a sobber.’
‘There were tears.’
Smiling, Emberlyn closed the honey jar. ‘Excellent.’
Kerr chuckled again. ‘I’ll see you guys later.’ With that, he left.
Ripper remained in the consultation room, watching as his witch added lavender to her potion. Green and moldy. She’d turned CeCe’s hair green and moldy while also providing a way to reverse it that would gall the female wolf.
God, she was mean. Seriously mean, but in the best way. It was one of the many, many things that he liked about her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the spell?’
She waved her hand at the cauldron, and the brew ceased bubbling. ‘You would have done what you did just then – asked me to undo it. I would have said no. You would have nagged me. We would have gone round and round in circles with neither of us willing to back down.’
‘So? There’s a lot to be said for angry sex.’
She chuckled. ‘I suppose we would have worked it off in bed.’
Ripper crossed to her. ‘Like I said last night, I see you. But you still often manage to surprise me.’
She searched his gaze. ‘You’re not mad at me?’
‘No. I’d have done a fuck of a lot worse to anyone who territorially marked something of yours and professed to love you.’ They would have been pissing blood for at least a week. ‘I’m kind of scared of what you’ll do to me if I ever upset you.’
‘Aw, you don’t need to be afraid of me.’
‘Oh yes, I do.’
Her lips curved. ‘Definitely not all brawn.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Traipsing through a shallow, trickling creek, Ripper glanced around Bloodhill Forest, ever vigilant. His boots stopped his feet from getting wet, but the water’s icy coldness seeped through.
Several of his clan were hunting game with him, including his brother – who currently walked alongside him. Others were scattered around, but none were too far away.
Adjusting his hold on his bow, Ripper stepped onto dry land. Typically, they didn’t wander too far into the forest when hunting. It wasn’t necessary. The Rabid tended to hole up near the mountains, so the wildlife found a home closer to the town where they were safer.
Though it was unlikely that they’d stumble upon any Rabid while hunting, it was best to be cautious. The Rabid slept during the day, but they would wake if you came too close to their lair and attempt to scare you away. Those occasions were few and far between, but they did happen. Which was why every hunter took handguns.
Arrows wouldn’t take down Rabid. A silver bullet? Different story.
A fatal shot wasn’t necessary – the silver would weaken the Rabid enough that they couldn’t fight as they were dragged back to town, where they could be helped.
At one time, people used to regularly go to Bloodhill to capture Rabid so they could return them to their natural state. But the creatures were hard to track, and it meant roaming deep into Bloodhill. That was risky, especially when Rabid tended to travel in packs and would attack without a qualm. Too often people had been badly injured and forced to kill Rabid in their own defense, which no one wanted on their conscience.
Nowadays, people generally only attempted to search for newly turned Rabid. They were easier to find and usually traveled alone because they didn’t instantly join packs. Once upon a time, they’d searched for Ripper, too.
It was strange for him to think that this forest had once been his home. For four damn years he’d lived out here. Yet, he felt no sense of comfort.
He was better at traversing it than most, his sense of direction spot on. As if he’d retained memories of the typography. But he didn’t look at any landmarks and feel nostalgia or experience any flashbacks.
The hazy memories of his time here were vague and short. He could see flashes of a cave in his mind. Of fights with other Rabid. Of stalking a fox. Of splashing in a stream. But there was no ‘story’ to follow and piece together.
The forest was like many others in the world. There were miles upon miles of trees that seemed tall enough to scrape the sky. Sporadic bursts of wildflowers and shrubbery could be seen. There were creeks, rivers, waterfalls and even hot springs. The air was fresh and scented of tree sap, warm earth and moss.