Black Moon Draw (Chapter Eight, page 2 of 24)

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"You have naught to fear from me, lady, so long as you follow my rules. A battle-witch is only good to me if she is pure."

He has no idea how far from the truth that is. Maybe it's a defense mechanism started by these battle-witches to keep the barbarians from hurting them. If so, it's smart, and I'm not about to ruin it for any fellow witches. This man crushes armies and slaughters thousands to win wars. He isn't the kind who likes to be denied something he wants.

"Thank god you're betrothed." I flush at the disappointment in my voice - and the fact I said it out loud at all.

"Aye, there's that," he says shortly. He throws a wet rag across the space hard enough that it splats against the tree trunk wall.

"My god, she's perfect. How can you sound so . . . meh?" I ask.

"Not your concern," he grumbles. "I have never had a new battle-witch."

You can have me any way you want, honey. I banish the words, knowing they're not the right ones for this situation, even if I am sitting so close to a man that looks like that.

"I'm not here for the long term," I manage. "I'm going home."

"No one who leaves the edge of the world ever returns."

"I'm sure someone goes back." It's not clear if we're talking about the same place - the real world, where I came from - or this ambiguous location I can't quite figure out.

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