“And just as clever as one?” she asked with cutting disdain.
So why was he getting harder for her? What about her didn’t do it for him?
He knew one thing that would put a dent in his need. He twisted around to assess his bullet wounds. His body might push out the slugs or the skin might heal over, so he took matters into his own hands and dug his claws into one hole. Ignoring the pain, he snared the bullet, then cast it through the curtain of water. On to the next one . . .
Gaze watchful, she asked, “How long will it take you to heal from those?”
He finished up and rinsed his hands, telling her, “Depends on how much rest and food I’ve had. Right now, my regeneration is sluggish.” He would pretend she was curious about her new mate—instead of sussing out weaknesses. He hankered for answers about her. “I saw your wagon at the fairgrounds: The Great Kereny, Transylvanian Blade Huntress. Do you have a knife-throwing act?”
“Yes. For a few years.”
“Your fingers are scarred. You must have practiced like your life depended on it.”
“The villagers say I sold my soul to a demon for my talent. Of course, most of them refuse to believe demons exist.”
“To master an aim like yours, I bet you worked yourself to the literal bone.”
For the first time since he’d taken her, Kereny seemed to see him. Shoulders back, she said, “I am not as strong or fast as an immortal. But my power is determination. If I work hard enough, then what I envision becomes reality. I wanted to be excellent, so I became excellent.”
Fuck. I’m a goner. He reacted viscerally to her steely gaze and iron will. She might as well have clutched him by the ballocks and informed him, Mine.
Voice roughened, he asked, “What did you do before your knife throwing?”
“I ran a shell game or read a crystal ball. Anything to help the cause.”
“So you’re a con artist as well.”
“Do you mean a confidence artist? You don’t believe I can see the future?” She swept the length of her drying hair over one shoulder, sending him awash in her exquisite scent. . . .
Hadn’t she asked him something? Ah! “If you could see the future, you would no’ square off against those newlings. I once saw a pair of them pulverize a stronghold to catch a cat.”
“They’re inherently vicious?”
He scratched his head. “I believe they’re more like uncontrollable toddlers who have the heightened senses to detect aggression and the strength to do horrible things when defending themselves.”
“The newlings wouldn’t attack us if they sensed no aggression?”
He exhaled a breath. “We canna know for sure. Some believe they’ll only strike if you fight or run, but who among us can encounter a newling and no’ do either?”
She seemed to ruminate on that, the wheels turning behind her coppery eyes.
“Yet your circus intends to tangle with a pack of them? There’s no fighting that many. Humans certainly canna do it. You’re the most fragile species I’ve ever encountered. A bee can take you out. A trip and fall. A draft.” He shook his head. “Who is your thickskulled leader? Someone needs to talk some sense into him.”
“You’re looking at her.” Strength and intelligence blazed from her eyes as she said, “Thickskulled I might be, but I will still defeat you and that pack.”
She was the leader? His Lykae curiosity redlined. How had a wee slip of a female gotten hardened men—in this decade—to obey her orders? That would certainly explain her general’s tone. “Then walk me through your battle plan, leader,” he said, though he already saw all the moves on her fairground chessboard.
She murmured, “Circus secret.” Sayer-kiss.
Sexy little Transylvanian! If she whispered that in his ear, he’d come in his pants.
Inner shake. “No matter what you planned, it still would no’ be enough. You canna use a hexed blade on all of them.”
“I’m also handy with a sword and a rifle. We all are. And a bullet to the brain will fell a younger Lykae for long enough to take its head.” A knowing grin teased her lips as she added, “I understand that grenades are effective as well.”
“Once you engage those wolves, there’s no falling back. No retreat. You canna imagine what the chase does to us. How it excites us.”
“Very many things seem to excite you. Perhaps I can use that trait against my foes.” The unspoken words: . . . against you.
Aye, lass. Try to excite me.
She canted her head at him. “What if I told you I’d go with you after the newling battle?”
“Trust the carnie’s word?” He was one to talk. “In any case, I’d never let you wade into that fray.” If anything happened to this timeline’s Kereny, he’d have to return to Quondam, force Ormlo to power the gateway once more, then travel back in time for her yet again.