Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Meg holds on to my hand for dear life. She uses her free hand to point to a spot close to the tent where Kaja and I spent the night. “It’s Cara. She’s going to try to save Cara.”
I push against the crowd. It’s like swimming upstream. A troll with atrocious body odor nearly flattens me against a tent pole. I use a good portion of my strength to keep Meg close. I have mere seconds before Kaja makes her way to the ogre.
The ogre. It’s huge. It’s strong. Perhaps Beck could handle the ogre, but it would be a battle. Kaja is tiny compared to that monster. What’s she thinking? The ogre’s only weakness is its utter stupidity and a Fae creature’s aversion to cold iron.
Cold iron.
“Meg, what does that gun of yours shoot?” I ask.
I’ve played around with the gun. Meg took me out behind the barn and showed me how to use the weapon. I’m quite good with it, or so she told me. I have a good eye and a steady hand. But do I have the right ammunition?
Meg’s jaw drops open as she seems to reach the same conclusion. “After I taught Cian how to use the gun, he figured out how to make new bullets. The blacksmith forged them from cold iron. He thought it was the best way for me to protect myself if Torin attacked. It should work on the ogre. Get me close enough and I’ll take the shot.”
I barely avoid rolling my eyes at her. “You’re not going to do anything, sweetheart. It’s not like he’ll go down from one bullet. You’ll only piss him off. He might be dumb, but he has spectacular survival instincts. The minute you start shooting, he’ll turn on you. I can’t risk that.”
I open the flap to the tent we’re close to and shove her inside. “You have to stay here. I can’t take care of you and save Kaja. Please, Meg. I need you to give me the gun and promise me you’ll stay safe. I’m begging you.”
I’m in an impossible situation. I owe Kaja protection, whether she wants it or not. But I’m responsible for Meg, too. It’s not a position I’m comfortable with. I spent my life without any kind of responsibility at all. Now two women who I care about might die without me.
“I’ll stay here.” Meg places the gun in my hand. “But you can’t expect me to hide if you go down. I’ll stay out of sight until you need me.”
It’s the best I’m going to get. I steel myself and begin to push through the crowd. I can hear Kaja’s bark. She’s on the edge of the throng, making her way toward Cara. I begin to shove people aside. The ogre roars, making the tents shake and the air smell fetid and rank. The big creature reaches down and picks up a tent by the large pole that holds the center up. He tosses it toward the field. Another scream reaches my ears, this one smaller and weaker. I watch in horror as the ogre picks up a small brownie who was hiding in the now defunct tent. He lifts the brownie’s delicate body and tosses it into his mouth. In a second, the brownie is gone, lost to the ogre’s never-ending hunger.
Kaja breaks free from the crowd and races toward Cara. The gnome seems frozen in terror, looking up at the monstrous form above her. Kaja’s sleek body is utterly graceful as she races toward the gnome. The ogre looks down, and his hand reaches out to grab Cara, but before he can catch her between his thumb and forefinger, Kaja strikes. Her body forces Cara’s out of the way, and the two of them go tumbling to the left of the ogre.
I need a plan and quick. A single bullet won’t get through all that muscle. It will, however, piss the creature off, and then I could go straight down the ogre’s gullet. I press past the last of the fleeing Fae.
The ogre stands above my wife. Kaja places herself in front of the gnome. Even from my position, I can see Kaja’s sharp white teeth are bared, her body utterly rigid. She’s prepared for attack, but I can’t see how my small wife is going to take down the mountainous ogre.
Her head turns slightly, and those arctic eyes find mine. Though her stance doesn’t change, there’s a softening in her expression. Her eyes eat at me, the plea in those blue orbs so apparent I suddenly wish I could hide.
What does she want from me? I’m no hero. I’m not a warrior. I’m only a man, and my greatest talent is being able to give a woman multiple orgasms. And I like it that way, damn it. I don’t want to be Beck Finn. I want to have fun.