Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Clasping her in his arms, he scrambled to a crouching position. “Wrathful little witch! You swung on me?” He’d scarcely come to in time. He pulled her tighter against him, baring his fangs at the gang of armed carnies closing in. Hadn’t she said they were all hunters?
When he growled at the mortals, she calmly said, “My freedom for your testicles.” She’d tucked that hexed knife against his groin!
What had happened to his sweet, vulnerable seamstress? He rasped, “Who are you?”
She gazed up at him without fear, steady as a godsdamned assassin. “Release me, or I’ll harvest your balls and give them to the circus’s juggler.”
Recovering his wits, he said, “Too high, lass.” He snatched her knife away, then stowed the weapon in his belt. “You underestimate the size of my ballocks. Besides, I’d be sure to grow another pair for you.”
“Unhand her, cur!” The groom pointed a revolver at them.
Munro craved to take the man’s head, but such a move would earn Kereny’s unending hatred. All of these hunters were untouchable, and they looked like they’d die for her.
After defeating the vassal spell and traveling back through time, Munro would be damned if he lost her now. “She’s the only one you can hurt with that toy, mortal.” Keeping her close, he rose to his feet. “So lower your bloody weapon.”
The male looked to Kereny, who said, “Do shoot him, Jake.”
Motherfucker. Munro shielded her with his body as he spun around and sprinted toward the woods. Shots rang out. Right before he cleared the tree line, three bullets caught him in the back. “Damn it!”
She thrashed against him. “Let me go, or I will flay you.”
Though she was a human, he took her threat seriously. Careful not to squeeze her too hard while he ran, he made sure she couldn’t reach that knife.
As the hunters gave chase, she yelled something in Romanian to them. To Munro, she snapped, “You undying fiend, where are you taking me?”
To the future. “A safe place.” He located his previous route, would backtrack his way through the woods.
When he’d first charged across the warlocks’ eerie time-travel gateway into this time, he’d told himself he would only check on Kereny, to see if she was happy and secure. Then he’d discovered that she lived next to a forest filled with Loreans. On top of that, she worked in the most lethal career a mortal could possibly choose.
No way could he leave her behind.
“A safe place? What does that mean?”
“It means I will no’ allow anyone or anything to hurt you.”
“And what about my people? They will follow, risking themselves for me. You’ll have their blood on your hands.”
Not true. None of this had ever happened. If they died chasing Munro, it would never stick. History could not be changed, so as soon as he returned through the gateway, this timeline would boomerang back to whatever it had been before he’d interfered.
Even Kereny would return to her previous timeline. But once she crossed into the future, a perfect facsimile of her—a mystical replica—would be created. Which meant the only thing that mattered was getting her to the gateway alive.
He told her, “Those hunters should know they have zero shot of catching me.” Their yells faded in the distance. Despite the lingering effects of her blade’s spell and his prolonged torture—not to mention a trio of new bullet wounds—Munro still possessed superhuman speed.
She clenched her fists. “If anything happens to my husband out here, I will hate you forever.”
Her last words in Quondam rang through his mind. I . . . hate . . . you . . . . “The groom should be strong enough to survive such a forest, or he should no’ enter it.”
She bristled in silence, her winged brows furrowed. No doubt scheming for her freedom.
As Munro ran in a strange land and foregone time, the world seemed to spin. The bullets in his back were an unwelcome irritation, and waves of pain pounded in his head.
Though he’d defeated the warlocks’ vassal spell, Munro’s psyche had paid the price, and his beast was hair-trigger ready to rise, still primed from a flood of rage. Plus, it probably sensed its own end; Munro raced against a countdown clock, could only remain in the past for so long.
The rain tapered off, clouds dispersing. The moon was half-full, but to Munro’s vision it blazed with light. Even after so much rain, he spied residues from other creatures. The Instinct warned —Be wary. Immortals in number.—
He needed to stay on guard, but Kereny kept drawing his gaze. The last time Munro had held her in his arms, she’d been a cold statue. Now . . . so alive.
Beams of moonlight struck her, lighting her copper-colored eyes, her plump red lips and even white teeth. Her olive-toned skin looked like it’d been born from silk. The damp bodice of her dress and her bra did little to conceal her luscious breasts and taut nipples.