“You’ll wear traditional attire?” another asked excitedly. “I vow to the Lore I’ll be in attendance-unless an emergency crops up.” Tacking on that qualifier. The braid-y nymph said, “I’ll tell you, but only if you vow to the Lore you’ll attend our next Bacchanal.” Why should she care if all these women were pawing Rune? Yes, Jo had a crush on him, but crushes could end. If he was like her, she’d teach him everything she knew about ghosting and telekinesis. Soon Thaddeus would be in Jo’s life again. She reminded herself that nothing mattered more than freeing her brother. Which might be a problem if they were linked by destiny and all. So unless he could keep it zipped, she’d have to move on. Her fangs sharpened with aggression.Īs much as she liked Rune, she would never share a man. How would a one-man orgy work? Would it be a nymph free-for-all? Maybe they lined up the way they had in the courtyard. Which also means I can’t linger here as I normally would.” “I can find a demon on my own, but I’m asking you ladies in order to save time. “It’d be worth a small favor,” he said smoothly. Was the chick angling for Rune to screw her? Would he? “I know of one,” said a nymph with an arrangement of thick blond braids piled atop her head. “One who can trace me to every continent in Gaia.” “Doves, I’m here to find a demon,” he told them, and they quieted. Why on earth-or anywhere else-would a male give up this kind of lifestyle? They definitely had his number.Īnd I thought I could get Rune to fall for me? Stupid Jo.

With worshipful expressions, they petted his arms and chest. Nymphs surrounded him, jockeying for position, crowding Jo out of the way.

They acted like a rock star had entered the premises. When they jumped up and down, their cloud dresses slipped, boobs flying. The rest cried his name and clapped excitedly. Nymphs congregated there, like super-models at a vino convention. In the center, a fountain flowed with wine. The fog floated above, resembling a giant awning. They approached a clearing in the mist, spread over a section of the meadow.

Probably not best for their burgeoning relationship if he again decided to kill her.

She considered confessing to the dreams, but reminded herself that four days ago he’d reached for his knife-because he’d suspected she might be a cosaş. Casting her a strange look, he said, “You’d be amazed how closely tied those two numbers are.” “That’s the same answer you gave me when I asked how many you’ve killed.”Īll his previous good humor disappeared. “A while.” What would he think if she told him she’d only had sex a handful of times? “How many have you been with?” “Three? Yet more evidence you were raised among monks.” He again muttered, “Three,” as if that were the punch line of a joke.

Sweet ruin by kresley cole