Blood of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 2)

Jesse gripped my chin and turned my face toward his. “I never would’ve agreed to this if I didn't think you were strong enough to handle it.” He kissed my lips. “You’re over it.”

That sounded a whole lot like a demand, but yeah, I was over it.

“Now you’re going to help him get over it.” He angled my face toward Roark, the hardness in his tone at odds with the tender way his fingers released my chin to glide down my neck. “He fought this plan since we left Charlottesville. The alternative was to use Shea, but we decided you’d be less forgiving if we involved her.”

My nostrils flared. He was damned right about that.

“He’s upset, Evie. When he gets back in here, you’re going to do whatever you need to do to make him un-upset.”

My lungs released a sharp breath. I’d give it a go, but Roark was a master at brooding in self-depreciation. Maybe I should return his rosary beads.

The men across the street began to scatter, leading the new recruits back to our vehicles. The newbies carried their backpacks and weapons, probably the only things they owned. Most of the men we’d met over the past two weeks were like us. Vagabonds, looking for something, with no place left to call home. Link didn’t promise them a roof over their heads. He offered something better: a brotherhood of soldiers, an honorable cause to fight for, and maybe someday, a woman and children to love.

Of all the men who’d passed his tests, not one had declined his offer to join us.

Link followed Roark back to the van and slid in behind the wheel, starting the engine.

I opened the side door for Roark. He stared a hole through me as he stepped in and sat on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Darwin came over and sniffed him from boots to neck then curled up beside him.

“Want to know something crazy?” Link turned in the seat, wearing a maniacal grin.

“Not really.” I sat on the floor in front of Roark, meeting those tension-filled jade eyes.

“Those guys had heard of us,” Link said.

That drew my attention. “Us?”

Link glanced at the side mirror, probably checking to see if the caravan had caught up, and turned back to me. “They said some men passing through were talking about a guy with black eyes”—he widened his for effect—“and the blonde beauty I was gathering an army for.”

Holy fucking shit. I shared a look with Roark then Jesse, their shock as gaping as mine. “How is gossip spreading that fast? The men we’ve met either joined us or died…very fucking gory deaths, I might add.”

“Yeah, about that…” Link put the van in gear and pulled onto the road. “Apparently, I have a feared reputation of castrating.”

“Have you left any balls intact?”

“Nope.”

“There’s your legacy. You’ll be right up there with Billy the Kid, Jack the Ripper, and Dahmer the Milwaukee Cannibal. What will they call you? Link the Emasculator?”

He slammed his hand against the dash, hooting with laughter. “I like that.”

“You would.”

Returning his hand to the wheel, he tapped his thumb. “For every survivor we encounter, there are ten more you don’t see, watching from the safety of their hidey-holes, paying attention, and spreading the gossip.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t thought of that. “So those three men already knew who you are, already knew all about your little gelding fetish? They were on their best behavior.”

“They knew my reputation as a brutal motherfucker and still stood up to me. That says a lot, Evie.”

Whatever. I could argue semantics all day, and frankly, Link’s mental stability really worried me sometimes. But I had a more urgent matter to address.

Roark sat with his back against the wall of the van, one knee bent, his hand moving over Darwin’s pelt as he watched me with the wary look a husband might’ve given his wife when she turned into a nymph. Like I was going to suck the blood from his soul, but he loved me too much to stop me.

I crawled over to him, made myself at home in his lap, and hugged his neck.

A relieved breath stumbled past his lips, and he cautiously moved his arms around my hips. “After everything you’ve been through…”

“Shhh.” I ran my hands through his hair and nuzzled his neck, showing him without words I was fine. We were fine.

He kissed my temple, his accent nursing the words. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“I know.”

He leaned his head back until our foreheads touched, my hair falling in a curtain around us as he whispered, “I’ll make it up to ye tonight.”

Wouldn’t be any different from any other night for the past two weeks. Whether we were sleeping in the van, an abandoned building, or beneath the moon, he, Jesse, and I managed to find an hour or two of privacy. Just one of the many security advantages of traveling with a band of soldiers.