Home > Witch's Reign (Desert Cursed #1)(4)

Witch's Reign (Desert Cursed #1)(4)
Author: Shannon Mayer

Flora would have no such constraints in helping Steve.

Maybe we should switch was his last thought.

Green eyes flicked to him as Flora arched a delicate swoosh of an eyebrow, as if she knew something of what he was thinking. “Then we are agreed? I help Steve, and you help Zamira?”

Merlin held his hand out to her and she set her tiny, warm hand in his palm. He tightened his fingers over her hand before he brought it to his lips. He spoke against her skin as he raised his eyes to hers, seeing the flush of desire spread up her neck. “Agreed. Let the games begin, Flora.”

Chapter Three

The winding goat path beckoned and I didn’t hesitate another second. Couldn’t hesitate, to be honest, not if I wanted to live a second longer. With a rush of giants behind me, and safety at the top of the path, there was no reason to hold back. I mean, other than the chance that Balder or I could be snatched off the wall like some sort of fast-moving food if we dawdled.

I pulled Balder forward but he refused to take a step up the slope. I spun around and stared at him. “Not the time to act like a jackass, Balder!”

He grunted and I yanked on the reins, something I never did, but panic made me harder on him than I liked. The rumble of the earth increased as the giants once more picked up speed, seeing us standing there as if we were waiting on them. I ran around behind Balder and pulled my leather belt off from around my waist.

“Sorry,” I said as I raised it and brought it down hard on the left side of his ass, the crack resounding in the air. He dove forward and I kept at him, driving him up the hill. This was not the time for being careful despite the shitty footing. This was the time for running for our lives and praying to the desert goddess that we survived.

“Fucking Steve. Fucking idiot. Flipping me the fuck off instead of helping me get us out of here like the fucking douchecake camel’s dick that he is. Shit and smegma for brains, only ever thinking with his tiny, useless cock, goddess damn him and his stupid, frigging lying face . . .” Somewhere in my tirade, about halfway up the path, I realized the giants had reached us and were not doing anything.

I didn’t dare look at them. And in a flash, I knew why they’d stopped. Steve had said the reason, last night as we solidified our plans.

“You know, if you get stuck, just start swearing.” He leaned back against his saddle across the fire from me.

I curled up by my own saddle and ignored him. That was best. If I said anything, we’d be fighting in a matter of seconds and be loud enough that no amount of stealth would help us.

“Kiara told me she read about giants. They love new curse words and people losing their shit in a rant. Or the potential of learning new words. It’s nice to have someone who’s smart and beautiful.”

I hunched further against my saddle, wanting nothing more than to strangle him.

Okay, so they liked learning new curse words. They loved to hear someone get cussed out, and especially if it was a tirade. We were halfway up the path and now Balder didn’t need me to push him. He fought to get to the top, his back leg working hard not to give out under his weight.

Anger spurred through me, anger at myself along with a tentative hope that we would make it. My bestie Darcy would be howling with laughter at me, seeing me here now while I cussed out Steve to the entertainment of a rush of giants who’d only moments before been bent on pulling my head from my shoulders.

“I should never have trusted that cockwomble, cheating camel’s stinking rotten asshole who thought no one would notice he was playing around, no one would notice because he thought he was smarter, but in truth, he was as always dumb as a sack of hammers that have their handles on backward. Useless, no good for anything—not even sex. Fucker couldn’t even seem to figure out that the woman should enjoy it, too, but what does he care? He’ll just damn well go onto the next one and then the next, not bothering with anything other than what he wants . . .” I let the words pour through me and out my mouth, the pent-up anger and hurt that stemmed from my relationship with Steve and having to work with him after said relationship had broken into a thousand pieces.

And people wondered why I had trust issues.

We were ten feet from the top and I didn’t slow my feet or my mouth. The giants obviously liked foul language, and a good sordid story, but I had no idea that it could be so effective. Or mesmerizing. There was no way I was telling Steve he’d actually helped me.

“I hope the rest of his life he spends with a woman covered in warts and yeast infections, that even a whore wouldn’t sleep with his infected tiny, smaller than a worm, limper than an overcooked noodle for a manhood . . .”

Balder reached the top and bolted away from the edge, away from the giants. I stumbled forward, and the words stopped as I took a deep breath.

From behind me came a screech that ended in a bellow. I felt the air swoop around me as a giant hand swept my way. I spun and fell backward as I pulled a blade from my side. The curved kukri knife was sharper than any razor, and I gave everything I had in that swing as I fell. The three fingers that came for me were curved, grasping, and I saw the queen’s eyes at the edge of the cliff.

The knife cut through her palm, opening it like a ripe peach in a perfect line. Dark blue blood poured from the wound, spilling on the ground, leaching toward me like a floodgate opened. She yanked her hand back and I pushed my way farther from the cliff’s edge as fast as I could, scrabbling while keeping my eyes on the tops of the giants’ heads. The sway of their scraggly strands of hair was like some weird floating forest of dying trees.

A pair of hands caught me under the arms and I jerked away from them, fear making me clumsy. I spun with my knife up, still dripping with the giantess’s blood.

Above me stood a young satyr, the same one I’d seen grinning at me from the top of the hill. His legs curved backward and were covered in hair, and on his head peeking between dark brown curls were two nubby horns, which meant he was young, mid-twenties at best. He grinned at me. “That was amazing. Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. Or heard anything quite like it.” He laughed. “I wish I had something to record it with.”

“Thanks?” I pulled a little farther from him.

“I meant the story mostly; fighting I’ve seen before. Were you really cheated on by some guy with a tiny dick? I mean, wouldn’t you be glad that he cheated, because I thought women didn’t like small . . . packages?”

I snorted and pushed to my feet, wanting more space between me and the cliff edge. For all I knew, the giants would start lifting each other up and over to get to me and the treasures I’d stolen.

The satyr settled into a tight trot beside me as I strode away, following Balder’s hoof prints. Scrub brush grew here and there, and smaller stunted trees, but I couldn’t see my horse anywhere. No doubt he was pissed that I’d smacked him.

I grimaced. He wasn’t like a normal horse—but to be fair, most animals on this side of the wall were not normal. They’d been around the supernatural creatures here for generations, locked in with us, and with that, had learned some tricks of their own, making them smarter than their domesticated cousins, and better survivors all the way around. At least, that’s what my father had always said. I sighed. I would be paying for this for weeks if I didn’t treat Balder right, if I didn’t apologize. Oats, carrots, a nice warm mash at the very least would be the start of my apologizing.

“You can slow down. They won’t climb up here,” the satyr said. I glanced at him.

“Thanks . . .”

“Name is Marcel.” He smiled and I felt the flush in my belly spread upward. Satyrs had sex magic and that could make it very hard to keep your clothes on. I gritted my teeth and closed myself to his magic.

“Knock that shit off,” I growled as the shiver ran through me right to my middle and then lower, curling across parts of me that hadn’t been touched in a long time.

“Oh, come on. From that story, if even half of it is true, you could use a good flouncing.” He got in front of me and jogged backward, showing off, contracting his pecs and even going so far as to flex his arms.

Flouncing . . . that was a new one to me. “Yeah, no flouncing for me. That shit gets old fast.”

   
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